Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"What are you doing up there? You're going to fall!"

Belle glanced back and smiled, her long brown hair and blue silk dress blowing in the strong ocean breeze. "I'm fine! It's wonderful—come up here!" she yelled, throwing her head back, as she leaned up against the sailboat's bow.

When she didn't hear a reply, she looked back again. Gold was still standing behind the wheel, his eyes fixed anxiously on hers. "Come on, Gold," she smiled. "You can almost see the island from up here."

"I'd feel much safer if you were back here. Please, Belle?" he pleaded, his quiet voice nearly getting lost in the wind.

"All right." She hopped down off the bow, and nimbly skirted down the long vessel's wooden decks, without needing to even use the side rail for balance.

Gold visibly relaxed as soon she reached his side, although she could still see his hands trembling on the wheel.

"Hey, it's okay. You can stop worrying now." She reached up and covered one his hands with her own, leaning into her best friend's side for comfort. "We're almost there. See?" she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

"That we are," he agreed, looking off at the lone speck of brown dotting the ocean's horizon.

"How long do you think until we get there?"

"Half a day, at the most, I'd expect," he said, glancing back at her, his warm brown eyes still anxious.

Belle sighed happily, laying her head on his shoulder. "I can't wait. I think that it will be wonderful. What shall we do first, once we arrive?"

"I don't know," Gold murmured, bowing his head so the ends of his soft, brown hair tickled Belle's cheek. "Whatever you want."

"Oh, there must be something that you want to do! Tell me, please."

"I want to make you—"

CRASH!

Before Belle could react, or realize what was happening, she was thrown suddenly into the water. Dark blue ocean and bubbles surrounded her, pulling her under. She looked up and saw the light turquoise water above, and kicked her legs with all of her might to make her way to the surface.

Her lungs burned for air, as she struggled upward, finally breaking free and taking a deep breath of air. Flaming debris surrounded her. What was left of their sailboat was listing on its side, completely blown apart.

"Gold!" she screamed. "Gold!"

"Bell—"

His cry was silenced, and Belle swung frantically around in the water. Gold couldn't swim.

"Be—"

Belle heard his cry and swam towards it. Burning wood and debris from the wrecked ship slowed her path, obstructing her view. "Gold! Talk to me, Gold! Please!"

"Belle!" he shouted back, followed by thrashing splashes.

I'm coming, Gold. She dove towards the splashing, willing her arms and legs to swim faster, and faster.

Finally, she spotted the back of his head in front of her, but then, he disappeared.

"Gold!" she screamed, diving under the water.

She spotted him immediately, already several feet down, his legs futilely kicking with all of his might, as he continued to sink down.

Belle kicked, and kicked, driving herself lower, causing a sharp pain to radiate from her ears. She ignored it though; Gold was nearly within reach, and his wide eyes pleading with her for help.

No, no, Gold, please, no! she begged, trying to catch him.

Her body rebelled against her, though, trying to force her back up to the surface, but she couldn't—she couldn't— leave Gold. He couldn't die.

She gave one last, desperate kick, bubbles escaping from her mouth, as the water began to turn black around her, and drove forward, trying with all of her might to reach him.

Gold kicked upwards as well, and their fingertips meeting for one, brief second, before he was dragged backwards again, his eyes widening in pure terror, as he began to disappear right before her eyes.

"Gold!"

Belle gasped for breath, instantly startled to realize that she was in her bed. Heart pounding, she collapsed back into the cushions.

Just a dream…it was just a dream.

"Good morning, Belle Eight-Delta," Siri announced; the same script running across Belle's bedroom ceiling as well, along with the date: Good Morning, Belle Eight-Delta, December 2032. "Erratic REM Sleep Cycle detected."

No kidding, Belle groaned, and rolled over, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. White curtains opened immediately at her movement, revealing a bright winter morning.

The sunshine enveloped her stark, white room instantly in blindingly bright light. Belle squinted, and covered her eyes. "Siri, lower the light." The room complied immediately, becoming a more pleasant, darker shade.

She gave a glance over to the clock on the wall, and gave a little gasp, jumping out of bed. 08:15!

She was supposed to meet Gold down in the cafeteria at 08:30. Even though they had eaten every meal together, ever since Gold had been rescued and brought to Storybrooke, her best friend would still get unbearably anxious, fearing that she wouldn't show up. Belle couldn't bear to make him wait a minute longer than necessary.

Quickly taking care of her bathroom necessities, during which Siri announced that Belle had "high levels of cortisol detected," Belle quickly hustled over to her closet, which automatically opened before her. She knew what that finding meant—she was destined for yet another appointment at the Wellness Center.

Sure enough, just was she was determining which of her identical white shirts that she should wear, her thin, metal iD band flashed: Please report to Wellness Center at 09:00 for evaluation.

"I'm fine," Belle grumbled, selecting the second white shirt. She hated white. Why did everything have to be white? It always got dirty, and it wasn't attractive on anyone. The workers at Storybrooke got to wear all sorts of colors, even different types of clothing, yet she was stuck with this plain, white cotton long-sleeved t-shirt and matching pants. She hated it.

However, she didn't have any more time to think on it, lest she be late for Gold, so she laced up her tennis shoes as quickly as she could, and then swiped her iD at the door, causing it to slide open before her.

Once outside her room, Belle merged into the large crowd of women, wearing identical outfits to her own, also making their way down the wide, stainless steel corridor to the elevators at the end off the hall.

Flashing bulletin boards, advertising some of today's various activities, announced Belle's name each time she passed by, thanks to the retina scans within them. Every other board, though, was a different sort of bulletin—they were congratulations announcements for the latest Island lottery recipient. In this case, it was yesterday's winner, Nolan Two-Delta's, moving hologram excitedly declaring, "I won! I'm going to the Island! I'm so excited! You can win too!"

His image dissolved into a rotating image of the Island, and then into the more familiar lottery announcer, an attractive brown-haired woman, who smiled, her eyes following Belle's. "The Island: Nature's last pathogen-free zone. Are you going to be the next winner?"

"Ugh, can you believe that?"

Belle glanced over her shoulder, and smiled, seeing the source. "What?"

"That," Swan Three-Delta said, pointing to Nolan's smiling hologram. "I've been here for over four years, and then he gets to go to the Island after being here for less than a year? It's ridiculous!"

"Well, it's a lottery. Maybe, he just got lucky?"

"Lucky. Right," Swan said, rolling her eyes. "At this rate, I'm never going to be able to go to the Island."

"Don't say that! We're all going to go—they're just spacing us out, so there isn't over crowding."

Swan grumbled, rolling her eyes again. Even though Belle wouldn't admit it, she felt the same way as Swan, possibly even more so. Belle herself had been rescued and brought to the Storybrooke complex nearly five years ago, and she longed for the day that she would finally get to leave this place, and get to see the world.

"A healthy person is a happy person. Remember: be polite and peaceful to one another."

Belle jabbed her friend's side playfully at the announcement. "Yeah, Swan, be polite and peaceful to one another."

"Bite me."

After a beat, they both began laughing heartily at each other, and began to draw looks from the peace officers stationed around them.

"Sorry," Belle said, apologizing to the nearest officer, not wanting to be sent to the Serenity Center again for simply laughing.

The man, though, stared back at her with indifference.

Trying smiling, Belle thought, making a sharp turn away from the man, and over towards the glass elevators. The immense cloverleaf structure was located directing in the center of Storybrooke, and was the main way for anyone to get around between levels, unless they went out into the outer Sector Six corridors and risked being sent to the Serenity Center for decontamination.

"You headed to breakfast?"

"I am," Belle agreed, watching the floors pass rapidly by in front of her though the glass. "Are you?"

"No," Swan said. "I'm scheduled to go get some UV exposure today, so I'm going to head down to the pools early before it gets too crowded. You want to join me later?"

"Sure. I have an appointment at the Wellness Center, but I can meet you there afterwards."

"Sounds good. If not, a bunch of us are going to meet up tonight at the Bar for a drink, if you would like to join. You can even bring your friend 'what's his name.'"

"Gold. His name is Gold."

"Well, tell him to speak up more often, and then I might remember it. Why do you hang out with him anyways?"

"He's sweet," Belle protested, stung on her friend's behalf.

"Right," Swan deadpanned. "Bet he's going to win the lottery and get to go to the Island before me too.

The doors opened before them, announcing, "Level Four." Swan stepped out, turning around. "Anyways, see ya, around?"

"Sure thing, I'll—" The doors closed again before Belle could finish her response, whisking her downwards, finally stopping on the cafeteria's level two.

Most of the morning crowd was already seated, so the line to the servers wasn't very long. Belle scanned the white-clad diners for Gold, but gave up after she was beckoned forward to scan her iD bracelet.

"Let's see what your options are today, missy," the short, obese cook announced, swiping her finger along a key code. A second later, a personalized menu selection popped up, showing Belle's options. "Fruit salad, or soy oatmeal—your pick."

Belle cringed. She'd had those exact same options for the past week. "Can I please have some bacon instead? Just one slice?" she pleaded, giving the lady her best smile.

"I just make the food—don't get to choose what you can eat. Oatmeal or fruit? Pick. You're holding up the line."

Deflated, Belle looked over at her two options. "I'll take the fruit."

"Fruit, it is," the cook said dryly, placing a large fruit platter on Belle's tray.

"Thanks," she said, walking away towards the tables. It wasn't that she didn't like the fruit platter; she just didn't understand why she had to have the same thing over and over again. What would the harm be in eating one piece of bacon?

She continued to scan the surrounding crowded tables, looking for Gold. Finally, she spotted him off in the corner, sitting by himself with his back to her, looking off into the crowd.

Guilt nearly overwhelmed her as she rushed over, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

"Hey," she said, smiling as she placed her tray next to his.

Gold's eyes jerked upward, relief coming over his features instantly. "Hey," he said quietly, his lips fighting to hold back a smile.

"Sorry for keeping you. I was in a fight with the food lady over bacon."

He chuckled lightly, his long tresses hiding his face for a brief moment.

"What?" she said, resisting the urge to playfully smack him, lest an peace officer come over and order them to separate for being too close; Belle was already risking their wrath by sitting this close to Gold as is, and they could still fit nearly two people between them.

"That's the third day in a row that you've gotten into an argument with her over food."

"So? I don't see why I can only eat this, while everyone else gets to eat whatever they want."

"They'll send you to the Serenity Center if you keep talking like that," he said in a gently reminder.

She sighed, jabbing a piece of fruit with her fork. "I know."

"It doesn't matter anyways," he said, "because, I got some for you." He lifted up his hand, revealing three slices that he had been hiding behind his palm, and then quickly transferred them to her plate.

Touched, Belle looked over at him and smiled; noticing a slight blush rise to his cheeks. "Thank you."

He averted his eyes, and shrugged. "It's no matter."

"No, that was really nice of you to think of me."

Gold simply shrugged again, uncomfortable as ever with any compliment.

She took a bite, savoring the taste. "I think I might have gone crazy if I didn't have something besides fruit today. Plus, they already think I'm crazy as is."

"What do you mean? No one thinks that you're crazy."

Belle shrugged, picking up another piece of bacon and eating it as a distraction.

"Belle…? What's wrong?"

She bit her lip, embarrassed that he could read her that easily, but then, he was the only one who could.

"Did you have a nightmare again?" he whispered.

She could only nod in reply. She had finally told him about the nightmares only a short while ago, even though they had been happening for well over a year. While Gold knew that she was suffering from them, she had never divulged what they were about. She knew that if she told him, he would assume that it was his fault, and she wouldn't do that do him.

"You can tell me, you know?"

At this, she looked up and smiled, slightly unnerved how it seemed that he could read her mind. However, his warm eyes showed nothing but compassion and sincerity. "I know," she said, embarrassed that she tell him any more. "I just…right now…"

"It's okay, Belle. You may tell me though, whenever you want. I will always be here."

"Unless you win the lottery," she said in jest, eager to change the subject.

Gold continued to look at her, shaking his head. "They don't want the likes of me for the Island."

"Don't say that! Why wouldn't they want someone like you?"

He winced, and shrugged, looking away once again.

"One day, I promise that we'll both be on the Island together. Someday soon." She felt a nearly overwhelming urge to touch him, but held back, not sure where exactly that strange feeling had come from.

"Someday," he repeated wistfully.

"We will," Belle said firmly, looking directly into his eyes, trying to will it into him.

Bzzz Bzzz!

Her iD band buzzed loudly again, and Belle silenced it with a touch of her finger. REMINDER: Wellness Center Appointment at 0900.

"What was that?"

"Oh, just a reminder for my Wellness Center appointment," she said, waving him off. "I still have ten minutes."

"But, you can't be late for Director Mills," Gold said worriedly.

"Mills can wait," Belle declared, with a smile, leaning in. "Right now, I'm having breakfast with you." She took another bite of bacon, feeling triumphantly rebellious.

"You two, back away."

Belle glanced over her shoulder at the peace officer, and resisted an urge to snap back. She was going to see Mills anyways—what was one more grievance against her? However, she couldn't do that to Gold, especially since it would only mean that he would have to have a meeting with her as well. "Sorry, sir," she said finally.

When she turned back around, Gold was already halfway down the bench, cowering by his plate. She swung back around, and glared back at the black suited man, who hadn't moved. "I said, I'm sorry," she growled through clipped teeth. "It won't happen again."

The man's nostrils flared in anger, and he murmured something into his wrist piece, glaring back all the while.

Belle felt as though she was a breath away from being escorted directly to the Serenity Center, but suddenly, the man turned and walked away. Grinning to herself, she turned back around, scooting down towards Gold in defiance.

"You shouldn't have done that," he whispered, his voice shaking.

"Hey," she said, wanting nothing more than to be closer to him. "It's okay. I'm not going to let them do anything to you."

"You shouldn't risk it. Shouldn't risk yourself for me."

"Gold?"

He looked up at her, appearing so frightened that it broke Belle's heart.

"That's what best friends do. I'll always be there for you."

"As will I," he said, offering her a shy smile.

Her own smile grew at the sight of him growing calmer. "Speaking of friends—Swan invited me to meet up at the Bar tonight. Want to join us?"

"I…I don't…"

"Please? For me?"

He swallowed, giving her a slight nod.

"Okay," she agreed, continuing to smile back.

"You should go," he said, gesturing to her watch. "You can't be late for the Director."

"I suppose. I'm taking the bacon for the road, though," she declared, picking up the last slice and taking big bite out of it. "Tonight, though—you promise that you'll be there?"

"I promise."

"Okay, 'til then."

"You're late, Belle Eight-Delta. Again."

"I'm sorry, Director Mills," Belle said, sitting down in the seat in front of the Director's desk. Her eyes widened in alarm—several picture of Gold were displayed on the woman's desktop.

"No need to apologize, Belle," she replied airily, swiping away the images. "I'm only concerned for your well-being. You know that," she said, her bright red lips widening into a smile. "Your monitors indicated erratic sleep patterns and elevated stress hormones. You're still having nightmares, Belle?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you want to talk about them?" The tall, elegant woman walked around and sat on the corner of her desk beside Belle, folding her hands in front of her. "You can tell me, Belle. You can trust me."

Belle nodded, and took a deep breath. She had told Mills about her nightmares before, not in much detail, but slightly more than what she had told Gold about them.

"Are they about the Island again?"

"Yes," she said, looking away.

"And what happens in these dreams?"

"I'm going to the Island. Gold is with me, and we're on a boat, and then it…" She paused, seeing a flash of Gold's panicked drowning face. "We, uh…we don't make it."

Mills leaned back on her desk, swiping her finger, bringing forth Gold's face again. "You've been seeing Gold Two-Gamma a lot recently, haven't you? In fact, I just received a proximity warning report about you two, shortly before you arrived here."

"We didn't do anything wrong. We were just eating breakfast together!"

"Belle, you know the rules about proximity."

"But, he's my best friend! Aren't we supposed to be friends with one another?"

"Not with members of the opposite sex—you know that," she said, sighing, tilting her head. "Now, I know you are upset with me, but please trust me, Belle. We only have these measures in place to ensure your utmost happiness."

"But, I'm happiest when I'm with Gold!"

"Belle—don't force me to send you to the Serenity Center. We can't have you this stressed. It's not healthy."

Belle bit her lip and looked away once again.

"Let's get back to these dreams of yours, though, shall we? Why is it that you are so afraid to go to the Island?"

"Afraid? I'm not afraid to go to the Island. I'm not…they're just dreams. I don't know why I dream about that."

"It sounds to me like you're afraid of winning and leaving someone behind. Is that it?"

Maybe. "No."

"Then, what is troubling you? I heard that you started writing some your own stories recently."

Belle's head jerked up; she hadn't told anyone besides Gold about her writing, and she knew that he would never betray her. Besides, she kept all of her stories hidden in her own room.

"These," she said, swiping her finger on the desk.

Belle's handwritten pages appeared before her eyes, and a lump grew in her throat, knowing that she couldn't deny it.

Mills turned back around to face her. "Why did you feel an urge to write? We have a library—you're more than welcome to read those books."

"But, I've read those books."

"So you decided to write new ones?"

"Yes. I, uh,…I had an idea, so I decided to write them."

"And, where do you get these ideas from?"

"I don't know," Belle shrugged. "My dreams sometimes. Other times, it's just a thought that pops into my head."

Mills frowned, and tilted her head. "Interesting. So you say that these stories just 'come to you'? You've never read, or seen, them anywhere before?"

"They're mine. I wanted to write something new."

"Interesting. Well…it sounds to me that you're simply frustrated over a lack of choices," Mills declared.

"Yes!" Belle sighed, feeling a wave of relief that the Director understood her. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but every, single day, I'm told what to do. Why are all of my clothes white? Why do they have to be white? You're not wearing white; the guards aren't wearing white; why can't we wear a different color? And our food," she continued, "I've had to eat the same thing for nearly a week straight. Why is that? Why can some people have lots of choices, and I have none? I don't know…I just wish...I wish there was more. More than this. More than just waiting to go to the Island."

Mills stared at her coldly, and for a moment Belle felt a pang of fear, worrying that she may have gone too far. However, a second later the Director smiled, and stood, walking over to stand right in front of Belle. "Belle, do you know how lucky you are?"

Belle gulped, guilt seeping in at the reminder, and nodded weakly.

"You're one of only two hundred survivors that we've found so far," Mills continued, "and we've discovered the last place on Earth that you can go and live. Nature has given us a second Garden of Eden in which to repopulate the earth—a second chance. Do you realize how lucky you are?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You see, I don't have the opportunity, like you, to go the Island, because my place is here, at Storybrooke, helping recondition you survivors, so you'll be at your healthiest when you're chosen to go to the Island; just like how your place is to ensure that you're at your utmost best, so you'll be able to have children once you arrive there.

"Those food choices, Belle, are simply because we want what's healthiest for you, and your clothing is the same. We have you wear white so we can see if there are any contaminants on you. We do all of this for you, Belle, because we care about you. I care about you and it pains me to see you this unhappy. Now, I'm going to order a synaptic brain scan for you, so we can get to the bottom of these dreams and ideas that you're having. Maybe we can help you. Would you like that?"

Belle nodded back. She did want the nightmares to end, even if she wasn't exactly sure what a synaptic brain scan was.

"All right," Mills said, smiling. "Now, just simply look up at me, and relax."

Before Belle could react, metal bands came out of the chair and clamped on to her wrists and ankles. "Director Mills?"

The woman continued to smile at Belle, reaching over her desk to grab a long needle. "Now, don't you worry, this will only take a second. Just sit back…relax…and breathe deep."

Belle tried to squirm away from the approaching needle, but her restraints held fast. The Director's hand shot out and clamped on to her jaw, forcing her to be still.

"Now, that's not a good girl. Hold still now."

To her horror, the Director positioned the needle above Belle's eye and lowered it. She felt a second of piercing pain, and then succumbed to the blackness.

"Hey, where you been, sister? You're late."

Belle frowned at the question, not quite remembering how she got to her job site. Something about Mills? "I, uh…I don't know."

Her friend, Leroy Two-Echo, chuckled as he dipped his syringe into the nutrient lines in front of them. "Daydreaming again?"

"Better than falling asleep on the job," Belle said, teasing back.

"Hey, that was ol' Sleepy over there, not me," he said, pointing to the yawning worker, feeding the nutrient line four positions up, on the opposite side of the bench.

"I know. I'm sorry—just giving you a hard time."

"There's nothing wrong with dreaming," a soft voice interjected.

Belle leaned forward, spotting her friend a couple spots down. "Thank you, Blanchard."

Her friend reciprocated her a smile, and continued her work, injecting the lines. All of Storybrooke's inhabitants were required to work at least a couple hours in the nutrient room. Long open tubes passed through on the long tables, and it was the residents' job to inject the lines with vital nutrients, so the water was safe to consume, after being out in the contamination for so long.

"So did you hear that they're going to have another lottery tonight?"

Belle looked up from her own work. "No, I didn't."

"Jefferson, there, thinks that the lottery is rigged," Leroy replied, gesturing his head two spots down.

A brown haired man leaned in, lifting his eyebrows gleefully. "Did I hear someone say my name?"

"No, I was talkin' about the other nut in town. Speakin' of nuts…did you guys get a look at the new guy that they just brought in?" Leroy looked over and dramatically gestured to a man sitting in the corner, with two assistants holding each of his arms up, as they slowly explained to him how to coordinate his movements. In fact, all of the survivors were like that when they initially arrived to Storybrooke; Belle, though, could barely remember her own experience. The contamination outside was so severe that it took months sometimes for the effects to wear off. Until then, they were as helpless as a child.

"Can you believe we were like that?" Jefferson asked.

"Hush," Blanchard said, pressing a finger to her lips. "He can hear you."

"Eh, it's not like he knows what's going on anyways. At least he's not going to be picked to go to the Island."

"You don't know that," Belle reminded him.

"No, I do know that. I have devised a perfect formula for us to know who will be picked next. One moment…I have it here." He put down his syringe and grabbed a piece of paper out of his pocket; numbers and names were all scrawled all over it. "You see, what I've done here is—"

"Jefferson, put that away," Blanchard hissed, looking pointedly at their supervisors in the corner. "They'll take that away from you."

His face became instantly alarmed and he folded the piece of paper quickly back up. "Right, right. I'll tell you all later. But know, that I know. And…know that."

Belle chuckled. "Jefferson, you're not making any sense."

"You say that, but I'll be able to tell you exactly who the next person going to the Island will be. I've made it work this time. It will definitely be—"

"AHHH!"

The loud scream echoed throughout the large room, followed by the sound of glass breaking.

Blanchard was instantly on her feet, running towards the fallen woman. "Boyd?"

The young blonde woman grimaced in pain, and clutched her large belly. "It's time," she gasped, smiling. "The baby is coming!"

A loud eruption of cheers sounded in the room, as the supervisors ran over with a wheelchair to help Boyd into it.

"I'm going to the Island," she exclaimed, tears rolling down her face, as she doubled-over in pain again.

"You are," Blanchard said happily, hugging her friend, before a peace officer pushed her away. "I'm so happy for you. We're all so happy for you!"

The cheers didn't stop, as everyone rushed forward to pass on their own congratulations, knowing that Boyd's baby meant that the woman got to go directly to the Island—no lottery needed.

The only person not happy was Jefferson, who had a sour look upon his face.

"It's okay," Belle said, resuming her seat. "You'll get your formula right next time."

"I was sure that I had the right person. But wait—she doesn't count, because she wasn't part of the lottery. My formula still stands!"

A loud, pointed cough behind him silenced the table. "Can one of you go get a decontamination kit?"

Seeing an opportunity to get away from work, Belle jumped up off her seat. "I will, sir."

The supervisor handed her a yellow, hooded Sector Six contamination suit. "Be quick about it," he said.

"Of course," Belle agreed, fleeing the room. Chances to go outside to Sector Six were few, and far, in between. With few opportunities of adventure inside Storybrooke, Belle made it a point to try and go explore outside the complex as much as possible.

Donning the bright yellow suit, Belle made her way through the corridors, until she arrived at a huge metal door, with flashing lights and warning signs, telling people of the danger to proceed, unless they had the proper protection. Belle knew better though.

After one swipe of the supervisor's security card, the doors opened, revealing a massive iron structure, with hot, steam-filled air partially obstructing her view.

The first time Belle was here, she had been terrified. The loud, screeching noises of metal pipes being formed and welded into place had nearly sent her running back into Storybrooke. Now, she knew differently, and removed the suit's hood, knowing that no true contamination danger existed here. It became immediately easier to breath without it, and she followed her well-traveled path to the upper corridor of the Sector.

Another thing that she had discovered about Sector Six was that people worked back here—fascinating people, with different styles of dress that weren't afraid to get dirty, or say whatever they wanted. There were no supervisors, or peace officers back her either, and they had no jurisdiction over the men back here.

She continued to walk around the complex, being sure to hide herself from view when people passed by. She wasn't naïve; she'd already been sent back one time and had to spend days in the Serenity Center getting "decontaminated" for venturing out here. However, it was worth the risk, and she continued to look around, smiling when she spotted whom she was searching for—a tall, brown haired man, clothed in an orange jumper, working on a steaming pipe a couple of catwalks over from where she stood.

"August!" she called out, ducking below another pipe to get closer.

Her friend jumped, springing up to a standing position. His eyes widened once he saw her. "Belle—what are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I came to say, hi."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Of course not."

He groaned, running his hand along his face. "Argh, why do I get myself into these situations with you?"

"Because, I'm your friend," she replied happily. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Christ, you're going to get me into trouble for this," he muttered turning away.

Belle frowned at his reaction, but still followed him down the railing to a small office at the end of the catwalk.

"So what was it this time? Fried chip? Broken iD band?"

"Decontamination kit."

"Right," he said, opening up his small drink box, and taking out two cans. Belle couldn't quell her excitement at the sight of her favorite drink. August had a secret stash that he had found preserved from before the contamination that he kept here. He had made Belle swear not to tell anyone; an arrangement she was happy to keep if it meant that she got to drink more of this "Coca Cola" more often. "You know, you're going to get caught one of these days—run out of excuses for coming back here."

"I haven't so far," she said, shrugging coyly. "August, can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, sure. What's on your mind?"

"Do you ever wish that you had more choices?"

He chuckled, taking another swig of his canned drink. "Of course. Who doesn't?"

"See, that's what I thought too, but Director Mills made it sound like I was being ungrateful, which I suppose I kind of am, since we're the ones who survived, but I can't help wishing that…" she sighed, spotting a decorated card on his desk, picking it up to examine it. Stromboli's – I-10. Huh.

August snatched it out of her fingers. "That's mine."

"Of course. Sorry." August was very possessive over his relics that he had found preserved from before contamination, not that Belle could blame him; however, it didn't stop her from being curious, especially since he had so many.

"Look, Belle, the reason Mills is making you feel that way is because she has a God-complex, and wants everyone to bow down to her."

"Who's God?"

"Oh, geez," he muttered, chuckling. "I forget."

"Forget what?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, waving her off and taking another swig. "Hey, you don't tell anyone about your visits out here, right? Because you know that I could get in a lot of trouble—"

"I know. Don't worry. I would too," she paused, offering him a smile. "I just like talking to you; getting outside of Storybrooke for a while is all. Do you want me to stop coming?"

"No, I'm sorry. Just having a bad day, I guess."

"Anything that I can do?"

He laughed. "Unless you know how to fix an overheating capacitor…"

Belle blushed, and shrugged. "Sorry."

"Tech service required in product extraction. Tech service required in product extraction."

August growled at the intercom announcement, and stood up, grabbing his tool belt off the table. "Damn it, I told them not to use that so soon."

Belle stood as well, in order to get out of his way, following him out.

"You good getting back?"

"Yeah," Belle said.

"All right," August said. "Well, I gotta go out this way, so you take care getting back."

"I will. Thanks, August."

"Don't mention it," he said, giving her a brief wave over his shoulder before turning down another steam filled catwalk, and disappearing from view.

Belle sighed, discouraged that their visit was so brief. Sometimes August would be in a good mood and regale her with stories from before the contamination, while others, like today, he would be irritated and grumpy. Nevertheless, it was still a welcome relief to get out of the mundane task of putting nutrients into the lines.

Even though the Sector wasn't very crowded—Belle would often time only see only one other person besides August working back here—she still exercised utmost caution walking back to the Storybrooke level, hiding behind several of the immense steaming metal structures before she proceeded to the next hallway.

A quick movement, out of the corner of her eye, caused Belle to duck, and her heart to jump into her throat. She looked up, fearing that she would see an officer standing above her, but to her surprise, nothing was there.

She waited a moment before standing up again. Proceeding with caution, she took a tentative step around the next large steel structure, and once again saw the fluttering movement. This time, though, she saw the source. It can't be…

Belle rushed forward, darting between two cylinders to try and catch the butterfly in front of her.

The little insect darted to and fro, its bright orange wings proving to be a stark contrast, and an easy target, against the dark grey steel structures.

She watched as it began to slowly float upwards toward the lights above.

Undeterred, and not caring who caught her if it meant catching a closer glimpse of the butterfly, Belle climbed upwards, grasping the oily metal rungs on the nearby wall, nearly slipping in her yellow hazmat suit, but climbing higher nonetheless.

So close…

As if sensing her struggle, the butterfly slowed its climb, and allowed Belle to catch up. She hooked her arm around a rung, and twisted outwards to be able to view it better.

The butterfly hovered right in front of her face. Belle had never seen such a thing before, or such beautiful colors. Yes, she had read about them, but she had thought that they had all died in the contamination. For one to be alive…here of all places? It was amazing. Simply amazing.

She held her hand out, trying to will the butterfly closer, and it slowly came forth, bobbing up and down in its graceful flight, finally landing on her hand.

Belle gasped in excitement, and brought the resting insect slowly to her body. Once she had it within range of her other hand, she unhooked her arm quickly, and covered the butterfly with her hand, trapping it.

Little wings beat frantically against her palm, but Belle kept her gentle hold on the small wonder, slowly and carefully climbing down the rungs with one hand. Once on the ground, she walked swiftly down the metal walkways, mindful not to cause too much noise, and wound her way through the complex Sector until she finally arrived at where she was originally supposed to go—the decontamination unit.

Bright, flashing yellow lights lit either side of the door, and Belle slipped her hood on, mindful of the danger within, and then pushed the heavy metal door inwards. Inside, there were dozens, upon dozens, of decontamination kits, along with used kits—thus the need for the protection.

She picked up the handheld kit that was no bigger than August's tool box quickly, and exited the room, with the butterfly hidden in her palm all the while.

As soon as she was outside, she skirted around a big cylinder and crouched down, hidden from view. Inside the box were a multitude of small, sterilized containers. She took one, poking a small hole in the top, and then with the utmost care, transferred the butterfly to it, quickly screwing the top on once it was inside.

The butterfly fluttered around the small transparent box, safe and alive.

Belle smiled, excited to show her new find to Gold, and pocketed the bug carefully in her suit, and then grabbed her case to return back to Storybrooke.

"Where were you today?"

Belle finished swiping her iD band on the bar, and looked over. The bar's loud music made it hard to hear, so she leaned closer to Swan. "What?"

"Where. Were. You. Today?"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

Swan flashed her a frown, and then accepted her drink from the bartender. "I thought you were going to meet me at the pool."

"Oh, shoot. I'm so sorry. Boyd went into labor, and got sent to the Island, and then I had to go get a decontamination kit for the nutrition center, and then had to help clean up afterwards. I'm so sorry, I forgot. It just was a busy day."

"Eh, don't worry about it," she said. "We can go tomorrow."

Belle picked up her drink—a Pomegranate Ginger Juice Cocktail—and followed Swan back to their tables, where Blanchard, Leroy, and Jefferson were waiting.

"So you said that Boyd went to the Island?"

"Which doesn't count for my prediction calculator," Jefferson said, interjecting.

"She did," Blanchard confirmed. "I'm so happy for her, though I wish she could've had her baby here. I've always wanted to see a baby."

"Storybrooke's no place for babies, Blanchard. You know that."

"I know," she said, sighing, pouting at Leroy's point. "I just wish I could just see one, you know?"

"I understand," Belle said, placing her drink on the table, so she could look for Gold, who was conspicuously missing. She could only hope that he hadn't left before she had arrived.

"Well, I guess that means that there won't be a lottery tonight," Swan grumbled, taking a sip of her drink. "They've never done two in one day before."

"No, no," Jefferson said, waving a finger. "January 2nd, two years ago—they took two people."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Right," Swan deadpanned, lifting her eyebrows in disbelief.

"What?" Jefferson whined. "You don't believe me? Look—I swear that tonight…" He trailed off, picking a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it before the group. "Tonight, there will be a lottery. See? I subtracted everyone's number, and then multiplied it by their letter, and then divided it by the total number, which gave me twenty five."

"Which means…?"

"That it will be a man selected tonight," he declared, raising his cocktail glass with a flourish.

"A man it will be, then," Blanchard said, raising her glass in salute.

The rest of the group, including Belle, joined in the laughter, and raised their glasses as well. Jefferson meant well, but it was well known that his extensive contamination exposure, prior to him being rescued and brought to Storybrooke, had left him a little, well, mad. He had a new theory nearly every day as to how the lottery worked, and who would be selected next.

"Great," Swan said, downing her drink. "Another person to be sent to the Island before me."

"Swan…" Belle's words died on her tongue at the sight of Gold inching his way into the loud bar. A wide smile crossed her face, and she left the group to go meet him, knowing that he would never willingly go into such a crowded space by himself.

His nervousness was nearly as palpable as the relief that showed all over his face, once he spotted her making her way over.

"You came!"

He blushed, ducking his head for a brief moment. "You asked me to."

"I did," she said, smiling. "I'm so happy that you came. Come on—we're right over here." She led him forward through the crowd, while being mindful of not losing him, looking over her shoulder every couple steps. Her every glance was met with a shy smile, but he never left her side, even though she could sense his discomfort.

The group turned and smiled, greeting them back to the table to Belle's relief.

"Everyone—you remember Gold?"

"I do," Swan said, flashing a coy smile at Belle.

"What's goin' on, Gold?" Leroy greeted. "You need'a drink?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Gold replied, offering Belle's coworker a shy smile.

"Nah…I'm gettin' you a drink. Peach Energy Smoothie okay for you? It's all my iD will allow me tonight."

"That's fine."

"Anyone else?"

"We're good," Blanchard said. "Thanks Leroy!"

The gruff, bearded man simply shrugged of her thanks, and pushed his way towards the bar.

"Are we making bets if he'll make it back to the table without a warning from the officers?" Swan laughed, watching Leroy shove another unsuspecting person away.

"Not really a bet, now, is it?" Belle said, laughing as well. Leroy was the record holder so far for most days spent in the Serenity Center. They joked that the peace officers kept a reserved room there for him.

"True," Swan said with a shrug, taking another sip of her drink, before turning to Gold. "So Gold, how was your day? Did you hear that Boyd got sent to the Island?"

"No, I hadn't heard that yet."

"Yeah, another person that gets to go to the Island. How long have you been here for?"

"Two years."

"Eh…not too bad. Boyd'd only been here for nine months and she got to go. Don't you think that that's ridiculous?"

"Not ridiculous—mathematically impossible," Jefferson corrected, tipping his drink to her.

"You just said that she didn't fall into your formula."

"She didn't—that's why it's mathematically impossible."

"Right. What else does this 'formula' say? How 'bout you make a useful formula telling me when I get to go to the Island?"

"Maybe I will."

"Maybe, you should."

Belle moved over to the side, motioning to Gold to join her so they could bypass her friends' argument before they were separated by the peace officers as well. She had been waiting for a chance to pull Gold off to the side, so they could talk somewhat in private together. She had been dying to tell him about the butterfly all day.

"They're going to be awhile," she said, chuckling.

"I could tell as much," he said, grinning back. "How are you?" he asked quieter.

"Fine."

"Your appointment?"

Belle sighed, not wanting to discuss it. "It went all right, I suppose. Mills injected something into my eye—said that it was supposed to help with my nightmares. Some sort of brain scan. Have you heard of anything like that before?"

"No," Gold said, looking all over her face with worry. "Are you all right? Did it hurt?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But, I can't feel it now."

"Oh, Belle…"

"It's fine. I'm fine," she assured him, putting on a brave face, which she knew he would probably see through anyways. "But that's not what I wanted to tell you about," she continued, moving as close to him as she dared. "I found a butterfly."

He jerked back in surprise. "A what?"

"A butterfly," she mouthed back, not wanting to draw attention.

He regained his composure and moved back to her. "I thought that they were extinct."

"I know! I did, too."

"Where did you find it?"

She held six fingers out by her side.

"Belle…" he said in alarm.

"Shh…it's fine. I had to go get a decontamination kit and found it out there."

He didn't look convinced. "What did it look like?"

"Orange and black—it's beautiful! I want to show you."

"You have it?"

"Shh…in my room," she whispered back.

He frowned, obviously wary. "But, Belle, I can't go—"

"I know. I'll sneak it out and show you tomorrow," she said, the thought bringing a smile to her face.

"But if you get caught…"

"I'm not going to get caught. And I want to show it to you; that's why I caught it in the first place—to show you."

He looked dumbfounded. "You brought it back…for me?"

"Of course! Who else would I want to show it to?"

Gold bowed his head slightly, biting back a smile, finally composing himself and looking back up "How big is it?"

Belle touched the tips of her index fingers and thumbs together, making a little circle.

"That big?"

"I know! I couldn't believe it—and it'd been living out there. I wonder if it's from outside."

"That's impossible," Gold frowned. "Everything outside is dead from contamination."

"Not everything," Belle countered. "How else can they keep finding survivors?"

"I, uh…I don't know. We shouldn't question it though. We're lucky. We should be dead and we're not."

Belle sighed, and leaned back against the metal railing, running along of the bar, and looked out towards the large open atrium, with the Island Lottery platform directly below. "That's what Mills said…yet…" She turned back around to face Gold. "Do you think that we're the only survivors? I mean, I've been here for four years, and they're still finding people every day. Maybe there are more people and places out there. Maybe there's more than the just the Island. Maybe—"

Gold's hand shot out, clamping over Belle's mouth, before he pulled it back just as quick.

She stood in shock; Gold had never touched her willingly before, not even by accident.

He seemed just as shocked by his behavior, and he shifted awkwardly on his feet, as he clenched his offending hand by his side. "You shouldn't say that," he murmured, raw fear radiating from his eyes. "They'll hear you."

Belle nodded, not wanting to upset him further, but still couldn't help but be disappointed by his reaction. Sometimes it seemed like she was all alone here, the odd person out.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Gold. I was out of line. I didn't mean…I'm sorry."

He licked his lips, giving her a little nod.

Loud alarms sounded, making both of them jump. "Welcome to the Lottery. Will you be tonight's winner? Tonight's drawing will start in five minutes. Please report to the Announcement Platform."

"I knew it!" Jefferson yelled, pumping his fist in triumph.

Belle laughed, and then turned to Gold. "Well? Shall we?"

He answered her with a small smile, and nod, staying close as they followed the crowd through the bar, and then down the two wide set of stairs to the immense selection area.

The area itself was built like an amphitheater, with huge story-high screens filled with rotating images of the Island. Suddenly, all of the monitors switched over to show the Lottery announcer's face, smiling down to all of the survivors.

"Welcome to the Lottery. It's been a busy week. So far we've had two winners. Will you be the next one transported to the Island? Let's see—let's start the spin!"

Spotlights flashed all over the crowd as the monitors went black for a moment, before beginning a rapid flashing sequence of everyone's name and photo. Belle saw both her name and Gold's flash by twice, before it finally stopped, and her stomach dropped to the floor.

The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer as everyone turned around, and clapped enthusiastically at them. No, not at them—at Gold.

Belle stood numb, and unbelieving, as Gold's face swirled on the screens with a "Congratulations, Gold Two-Gamma. You're moving out to the Island" written below.

He stood, staring back at her as well. "Belle?"

"Go," she whimpered, nodding towards the platform where all the winners went to stand after they won.

"Belle, I…"

Unable to hold herself back, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself to him, feeling stinging tears prick her eyes, making her vision go blurry. "You deserve this," she whispered in his ear.

"I can't leave you here."

She pulled back and wiped away her tears, ignoring the pain in her wrist from the proximity warning from her iD band. "Yes, you will. Now—go. I'll meet you there. Don't worry."

"I'll wait for you," he said fervently, pulling back against the people trying to pull him up to the stage.

Belle nodded, and wiped away more tears. "I know. I'll be there soon," she lied, knowing that they were saying goodbye, possibly for years. "Wait for me?"

"I'll never stop waiting for you."

"Gold?"

He stopped, waiting for her question.

Belle tried to think of what to say, but no words could come for what she wanted, no, needed to say, and she stood slack jawed in front of him.

Before she could react, the crowd overpowered Gold, and pulled him away, making him disappear right before her eyes.

"Gold?" she cried. "Gold…."

"Gold!"

Belle shot up out of bed, a cold sweat beading her brow. She glanced over at her clock and sighed, collapsing back down onto her mattress. 05:12. It had been less than an hour since the last time she had woken up from her last nightmare.

She sighed, and rolled over, hoping that Siri wouldn't decide to make a comment on her sleep patterns, or lack thereof. She had barely remembered getting back to her room after they had taken Gold away to prepare for his transport, and her attempts at sleep as she tried to forget that her friend was leaving her tomorrow had only resulted in a nightmarish sleep, that left her tossing and turning, waking up every hour.

The butterfly she captured seemed to feel the same way, fluttering manically in its temporary cage.

A sick, overwhelming feeling of sadness nearly overcame Belle as she watched the little creature fly around. She would never get to show Gold her butterfly now. Might never get to show Gold anything ever again. No, she corrected herself, I will. This was only temporary.

It didn't make it hurt any less though. Belle didn't know if she had any tears left after she had cried well into the night. He had just looked so scared up there by himself as everyone had serenaded him. He needed her; no, they needed each other.

She extended a finger and touched the little butterfly's container, causing it to fly around again. "You want to leave me too, huh?" she whispered.

A thought came to her, and before she could think about it, she slipped out of bed, and got dressed, pocketing her spare key to Sector Six that she kept hidden, and picked up the little butterfly. If Gold was leaving, there was no use in keeping it. It would only serve as a reminder of a promise unfulfilled and Belle couldn't bear to look at it any longer.

Swiping her iD band to open her door, Belle snuck out into the silent corridor. The rest of Storybrooke's inhabitants were fast asleep, tucked away in their rooms along the corridor. Gold, like the rest of the men, were on the other side, kept separate from the women.

Belle paused, ducking her head around the bend, and then made her way quickly to the flashing door at the end of the hallway. With the coast clear, she swiped the key card, covering up her own iD band as she did so, and breathed a sigh of relief once the door clicked open.

Sector Six, to her surprise, was not nearly as quiet as the rest of the facility. In fact, it seemed just as active as during the day, however, thankfully, it also seemed to have just as few workers during the night, as well.

Quickly slipping down her well-traveled path, Belle walked along the metal catwalks, in between the tall cylinders, retracing her steps to where she found the butterfly. She wanted to release it in the same spot, just in case it lived there. She also had another lingering curiosity that she wanted satisfied as well.

It didn't take her long to find the original spot. The cylinder where she caught the butterfly at was located on the far opposite of the entrance to Sector Six, along a tall concrete wall that was so high that Belle couldn't even see where it ended. With nothing to lose, she intended to find out where it ended now.

She removed the still fluttering butterfly's container out of her pants pocket, and unscrewed the top, releasing it. "Show me where you came from, little one," she said, watching it immediately fly away.

However, instead of flying upwards, it flew away from her. Cursing it, Belle took off after it, down the metal walkway. This wasn't part of her plan, but then, if she were caught, a week at the Serenity Center wouldn't be so bad; in fact, it might help her forget that Gold was gone.

Suddenly, the butterfly changed course, and began to climb upwards. Hold on, Belle begged, jogging to catch up.

Like she had before, she began climbing up the metal rungs alongside the large cylinders. Higher and higher, she climbed, keeping track of the rising butterfly to her right. She looked down, and regretted it immediately, nearly falling off from her legs shaking in fear at the sight of how high she was, but she forged on. She had come too far to turn back now, and the butterfly was still climbing higher.

Finally, the butterfly flew next to her, nearly with reach, and then darted upwards, disappearing completely from view. How…?

Belle reached up, and felt cold metal where she had expected to find empty space. She had reached the ceiling, but it was painted a matte black, so it was nearly impossible to see. She pressed it, trying to feel where the butterfly went, and the ceiling budged, revealing a bright sunburst shine down upon her.

She gasped, pulling her hand back, but then her curiosity overwhelmed her and she pressed the ceiling harder, and a panel of the roof completely pushed upwards, revealing a room above.

Not knowing what to do, Belle climbed through it, and looked around immediately in shock, quickly replacing the "roof," which was actually a floor tile to a long white corridor.

Two men, wearing bright orange jumpsuits, and holding a blue box with a white lid, turned the corner, and began walking towards Belle. She thought fast, and opened the closest door next to her, slipping inside, waiting for them to pass.

She looked around the new space, finding that it was a closet of some kind. There were various types of clothing, along with a rack of white coats with names on them with the label "Mills Genetics." She grabbed one and slipped it on over her white clothes.

After hearing some footsteps pass by, Belle waited for another minute, and then walked out of the room, nearly colliding with a person walking by.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," Belle mumbled, keeping her head down, as she scurried away.

She didn't know where she was going, or what this place was, so she tried opening other doors, finding that most of them were locked. Finally, she found another one that was open, and went inside.

Her heart stopped beating at the sight before her. Boyd was in the adjourning room screaming in pain. Belle ducked down in a panic, hoping that no one had seen her through the glass window, even though all of the room's occupants' backs were to her.

The doctor's commands of "push, push," could be clearly heard, and Belle's heart hammered in her chest, not knowing what was going on. Finally, a tiny cry erupted, loud and insistent.

"There we are—a little girl!" a woman announced.

Unable to resist the opportunity to see her first baby, Belle peeked her head up, so she could see. The baby was covered in blood and white goo, but thankfully, the nurse began to wipe it away.

Boyd's arms extended towards the crying baby. "Can I hold her? I've never seen a baby before."

The lady, however, kept the baby tucked close to her chest.

"Please," Boyd said, begging. "Can I please hold my baby?"

Another lady walked into the room. "No honey, I'm sorry, you have to go to the Island now."

"We're going to the Island?" Boyd asked, sounding exhausted.

The nurse, holding the baby, passed it off to a man standing nearby, and then walked forward to where Boyd's legs were held up in stirrups, and strapped each of them down.

"Wha…what are you doing? I thought I was going to the Island."

"You are, honey," the first lady said, holding the little tubes by Boyd's head, and injecting something from a needle into it. "You are. You'll be there soon, don't you worry."

Within seconds, Boyd's body seized, shaking the bed, while the two women held her down. Belle could only look on in horror as the woman just stared, doing nothing, as her friend writhed, and then went completely still.

Without saying another word, one of the women opened a drawer and removed a white folded sheet, and then laid it on top of Boyd. After collecting some tools, they soon left, leaving Boyd alone.

Belle gasped, not realizing that she had been holding her breath, and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. What had just happened?

She was torn between going to help her friend, and running away, but she knew that Boyd would never have abandoned her, so she crouched down once again, and shuffled over to the adjacent door that opened into her friend's room.

Once in, she ran over to her friend's side immediately, and removed the white sheet covering her face. "Boyd," she whispered, but then she jumped back, seeing the bloodshot pupils and unblinking stare.

Oh no, oh no, oh no….no, no, no….

Belle stumbled backwards, crashing into a metal tray, sending it flying across the room, and then fled from where she came.

What is this place? she thought in horror, her mind barely able to comprehend what she had just seen. Why did they kill Boyd?

I need to get back, she decided, leaving the observation room and walking back, trying to retrace her steps, however everything looked identical and nothing was marked or labeled, except for the rooms. Belle cringed, cursing herself for not remembering, or noticing, what room number was closest to her from where she came.

She continued to walk down the hallways though, hoping that she would remember something soon before she was caught.

"What are you gentlemen here today for?"

Belle froze at the woman's cheerful voice from around the corner. She peeked around; it was the two orange suited men that she had seen before. They were standing in front of a large desk, with a smiling woman behind it. There was no way that they wouldn't notice her if she passed by; she would have to wait here until they left.

"Ma'am, just sign the paperwork, please."

"Hey," the woman grumbled. "Just tryin' to make conversa—wait, you're pickin' up for David Nolan? The David Nolan—the Liberty's quarterback?

"Ma'am…."

"Ooo he is so fine! Is he here? Do you think I can meet him?"

"Ma'am!" the man yelled sharply. "Just sign the damn paperwork so we can get out of here on time; we're on a tight schedule."

"Yeah, yeah. You damn Grim Reapers are all the same—comin' in here with an attitude, actin' like you own the place. Well, it just so happens that he's still in surgery, so you're going to have to wait…over there, if you please."

Belle heard the men muttering, and walking towards her so she quickly turned and walked towards the hallway from where she had just came.

All of the sudden, loud, screeching sirens went off, and Belle darted towards a nearby door, finding it locked. She tried two more, and began to panic, finding them also locked. Finally, she found a nearby supply cart, and ducked down behind it, trying to curl up into a small of a ball as possible. Please don't find me. Please don't find me.

"Help me! Please, somebody help me!"

Belle gasped, recognizing the voice, and looked around the cart.

Nolan Two-Delta was running straight at her, blood covering his bare chest that was marred by a gaping wound from his collarbone to bellybutton, with wires dragging behind him. "Help me!"

Four black suited security guards came barreling around the corner in pursuit. Two of them lifted guns and shot at Nolan, causing Belle's friend to scream out in pain and collapse only a few feet from her.

She could only look on in horror as the men literally reeled him in, via the hooks that were impaled in his back.

"Stop!" Nolan screamed. "Somebody help me! I don't want to die! I want to go to the Island!"

"Careful," one said, ignoring Nolan's cries. "Don't damage him. We still need to finish the extraction."

"Help me! I don't want to die!"

"Hey, you."

Belle jumped, falling over in shock at the sight of a security guard standing over her.

"You all right?" he asked, offering her a hand up. "It's not like the first time this has happened." He shrugged, pulling Belle up, and then jogging away to help pick up a writhing, bloodied Nolan off the floor.

Only one thought came to Belle through the sheer terror that she felt. Gold. I have to go get Gold.

Belle found her way back down into Sector Six by sheer luck, and wasted no time sprinting over to the men's dormitory wing. Like her own wing, all of the inhabitants were still sleeping, locked away in their beds. Even though she had never been here before, each room had the resident's name on a plaque next to the door. Thankfully, Gold's was one of the first ones, and she banged on his door.

Come on! she begged, banging louder again.

Finally, his door opened, and a bleary-eyed Gold greeted her, his eyes going immediately wide with shock. "Belle—"

"There's no time," Belle said, running inside and going straight over to his closet, pulling out his drawers and throwing him a shirt and pants. "We need to get out of here now."

"Belle, what is going on?"

She swung around, panicked that he was hesitating. "Gold, there's no Island! We need to go! Please, put those on. We need to go now!"

"What do you mean?"

Belle couldn't wait, and pulled his shirt over his head herself, and then ran over to go find his shoes. Thankfully, by the time she returned, he had complied with her request and was changed into his pants. Taking one foot from him, she laced up his one show, while Gold laced up the other.

"Belle, what is going on?"

She grabbed his hand, and yanked him out the door, pulling him into a run. Black security guards were already assembling, shouting at them from on the other side of the complex. Oh, no. She turned, switching course for a different way to Sector Six.

"Belle—"

"There's no Island!" she shouted over her shoulder, as they ran. "They just killed Boyd and Nolan. I saw it with my own eyes! They're going to kill you too, if we don't get out of here!"

Clearly bewildered, but thankfully trusting her, Gold said nothing in reply, other than to run faster, gripping her hand so tightly that it hurt.

"This way," she said, darting down the stairs.

BANG! BANG!

Metal screeched behind them, as the metal hooks missed their targets and retracted without their quarry. Loud alarms also began to go off, echoing throughout the complex.

All at once, all of the screens turned on and showed a picture of Belle's face with a yellow flashing warning, saying "Contamination Risk: Report Immediately."

The sign only made Belle run harder, her legs feeling like they were flying.

"Where are we going?"

"Sector Six."

"Sector Six?"

Belle ignored him, and gripped his hand tighter, pulling him through a nearby door, quickly shutting it behind them. She waited, hearing loud boot steps run by, and then motioned to Gold with her fingers—"one, two, three."

They burst out of the room, and shots rang out again, followed by the screeching of metal.

She knew that there was a door nearby; they just had to get past these men. There! she thought, spotting it.

Without a moment to lose, she slipped the key card out of her pocket, and sprinted to the door, quickly swiping it, and opening the passage.

"Follow me!" she shouted, not knowing exactly where she was supposed to go, but she remembered August going through a far door one day. Maybe it could be an exit?

The guards, though, were just as quick, and Belle heard them enter the Sector with a loud bang, their footsteps clanging on the metal walkway, following their path.

"Belle," Gold cried.

"Keep running. Don't look back."

The guards suddenly went quiet, making their own footsteps echo in the chamber. Before Belle could realize what they had done, she heard a man call out "they're over here."

No, no, no, she thought, trying to run faster. The door was just too far away; they would catch them before they got to it. We need another way.

She looked ahead, and side-to-side, frantically trying to find an alternate path as she ran. There! she decided, sharply turning right. There seemed to be a door up ahead.

Glancing over to see if Gold was still with her, Belle sprinted ahead, towards the dark door, nearly slamming into it. Her fingers jumbled together as she tried to open it, and finally Gold stuck his own hand out, taking the key from her fingers and swiping the iD area. The door whooshed open.

They both froze at the sight, but then Belle remembered herself, and began running again, pulling Gold along. The huge space, bigger than any room Belle had ever been in, were hundreds of glowing pods, containing full sized humans suspended in water, with lines and beeping monitors hooked up to them. Even more disturbing was the loud, monotone recording played from speakers above: You're special. You have been chosen to survive. You want to go to the Island.

Belle glanced back at Gold, seeing that he was as horrified as she, and ran towards the next door ahead, finding it unlocked.

As soon as they ran through it though, they found themselves amongst three security guards, standing with their backs to them.

All three of the men, spun around immediately, looking at them in shock, clearly caught unawares. "Hey, stop right there!"

"Go!" Belle shouted to Gold, darting right, ignoring the commands of the loud footsteps of the men pursuing them.

Gold sprinted up ahead of her, and then paused, waiting a second for Belle to pass, and then pushed over a large workstation, which fell behind them with a resounding crash.

Bright florescent lights in the ceiling betrayed their path, lighting up the corridor even before they had a chance to go down it.

"Look—over here," Gold gasped, pulling on Belle's hand and jerking her to a stop.

A pulsing blue light radiated from underneath a pair of doors down a short hallway to their left.

"Go, go," Belle gasped, nearly out of breath.

Gold, thankfully, took her hand and pulled her along, throwing his body against the doors, which crashed open.

Immediately, they were bathed in a neon blue light. Before them was an immense panel with flickering green and yellow lights, and beyond that was a moving blue screen that looked unmistakably like the bright morning sky that had awoken Belle each morning. A thin, precarious metal catwalk extended into the "sky."

Her friend looked over at her in question, but loud shouts behind them silenced her own lingering doubts, and she took off at a dead run towards the metal walkway.

Belle looked around, seeing that the "sky" was even bigger than she had thought, seemingly encompassing the entire building that she had just exited. She glanced down in horror; the catwalk they were on was suspended hundreds of feet in the air, with the "sky" extending all the way to the bottom.

"Belle…" Gold slowed his step, as he approached the pulsing blue screen. The other side of the catwalk was now visible, yet the blue transparent screen gave both of them pause.

Do the brave thing, Belle thought, and looked over to Gold. "Trust me?"

"Yes," he gasped.

Without pausing to think, Belle ran through the screen, stumbling out the other side unharmed; Gold followed a second later.

Now on the other side, the light was darker, rendering Belle nearly blind after being exposed to the bright blue, but thankfully her eyes quickly adjusted, and she spotted a dark door, down another catwalk.

Gold seemed to have spotted the same thing, and made a run for it as well. Once reaching the door, he stepped ahead of her, and yanked on the handle. It wouldn't budge.

No! Belle's heart sunk, but her adrenaline didn't allow her to give up, and she joined in the effort, pulling the door with all of her might. Finally, it budged, barely an inch. Come on, come on, she begged, pulling harder.

All of the sudden, the door released, sending both of them flying backwards, and falling onto the ground.

Gold was up first, and helped Belle to her feet. Their efforts had been rewarded with a nearly, pitch black space, faintly illuminated by a row of widely spaced out lights above.

With no other options, they both ran into the hallway.

"Wait!"

Belle froze mid-step, and was suddenly thrown into darkness as Gold shut the door behind them. "Gold?" she called out.

A hand prodded her back, causing her to flinch, but she found his palm immediately and squeezed it. He gave a reassuring squeeze back. "I'm here."

"I can't see anything," she admitted, walking forward nevertheless.

"Neither can I, give it a moment."

Sure enough, her eyes slowly adjusted, revealing a long corridor in front of them. "Here—follow me," she said, pulling him forward into a jog.

Gold complied, at first lagging behind, letting her lead him, and then he loosened his grip on her hand and pulled even with her.

A faint light appeared, far off in the distance, and grew brighter as they ran towards it.

Hope surged through Belle and she ran faster towards it, despite her burning legs.

The tunnel grew brighter and brighter, and a faint cool breeze blew from the opening towards them, finally revealing that it wasn't another room, rather the tunnel was open to the outside.

Gold balked in fear, and Belle too slowed her step, but pressed on jogging towards the opening.

"Belle—wait!"

"We have to keep going!"

"It's contaminated out there," he cried, his eyes wide with panic.

"We'll die either way then—we have to take the chance."

He stopped. "Belle…"

She turned back, panting. "Do you trust me?"

"Belle—"

"Do you trust me, Gold?"

He nodded, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"Then, please, we have to go—we have to get away from his place. Please," she begged, darting her eyes back towards the blackness from which they came, half-expecting soldiers to come running out at any moment.

"Okay," he breathed, nodding to himself.

Belle walked back and took his shaking hand again, giving it a squeeze, and then led him out of the tunnel. She stopped dead in her tracks in shock at what lay before her.

"Belle? What is that? Where are we?"

Belle looked out at the morning sun that bathed the red desert landscape before her, stretching for as far as she could see. "I don't know," she admitted, trying to will her feet forward. I don't know…

It was nearly midday before Belle and Gold found their way off Storybrooke's grounds. An old, decrepit, barbed wire fence, with a sign warning people to stay off the "Property of the US Government," was the only evidence of the extensive complex that existed underground in the vast mountain desert.

Cold, weary, and barely able to walk, they had nearly given up all hope of knowing where to go, until they found a paved road, purely by happenstance. They had followed it for hours, not knowing where it went, but a sign for "Interstate 10" made Belle nearly cry tears of joy. August lived on Interstate 10 at Stromboli's. She didn't know how she had been able to remember the random card on his desk, but she was very grateful that she did.

Gold for his part, let Belle take the lead. Clearly still scared out of his mind, Belle tried to steel herself and appear confident for his sake, constantly reassuring him that they weren't going to die from contamination poisoning. She wasn't even sure if the contamination was real anymore, or if it was another lie like the Island. All she knew was that they had to keep running, and August's home seemed like the best place to start.

It was nearly nightfall by the time they reached the outskirts of a town. Belle swayed, barely staying on her feet, but marched onwards, buoyed by the sight of Stromboli's in bright florescent lights up ahead. Gold too seemed to increase his pace at the encouraging sight, and Belle looked over giving him a smile, which he matched by an even brighter one.

A crowd of loud two-wheeled vehicles, piloted by men riding them like horses, buzzed by them at a high speed, and pulled into an area right in front of the house.

"Are you sure he lives here?"

"I…think so." Belle looked over, becoming suddenly unsure herself at the sight of the large crowd of men entering the house. She swallowed, putting on a bright smile, and nodded, trying to convince herself as well.

Walking into the house, they were met with the loudest music Belle had ever heard. It was clearly not a home—it was more akin to their Bar back at Storybrooke, but much louder. Men were clothed in black leather jackets with elaborate detailing, accompanied by women who were wearing clothing that was somewhat similar to Belle's undergarments.

She walked up to the closest woman, and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman turned around, and looked her up and down. "What?" she snapped, clearly angered by Belle's presence.

Belle swallowed nervously, and smiled. "Uh…sorry. Do you know if August is here?"

The woman's face curled in displeasure and she shrugged. "Never heard of him—ask the bartender."

"Thank you," she said, but the woman was already walking away.

Gold touched her lightly on her shoulder and motioned to the far corner. "I think he's over there."

Belle nodded, and let him lead her back to the far end of the crowded room. Unlike their Bar, it seemed that there was no one here policing anyone's behavior; people were yelling, arguing, and mingling as close as they wanted to with whoever they wanted.

The "bartender" turned out to be the scariest man that Belle had ever laid eyes on. Bald, and covered with black drawings on his skin, and metal piercings through his lips and eyebrows, he was the thing of nightmares. And even worse, he followed them with his cold eyes, watching them the entire way as they walked up to the bar.

"Hi," Belle greeted, her voice sounding small to even her.

The man walked over and stood right in front of her. Belle could feel Gold's hand clutch hers and he stood partially behind her. "Yeah? What'd you want?"

"Do you know August?"

"Who's askin'?"

"Uh…my name is Belle Eight-Delta, and this is my friend, Gold Two-Gamma. I'm August's friend."

The man began laughing at him. "You for real, or is this some sort of joke?"

"Yes, I'm real. We're both real—not a joke. Do you know if August is nearby?"

"Hey, Mike!" the man yelled, motioning to a man sitting at the end of the bar. "Check it out—August has been hangin' out with UFO freaks. They want to know where their leader is."

The man looked over and laughed at Belle and Gold as well. "Shit…"

"You seen 'im lately?"

The customer shrugged, tilting his head towards the door next to him. "He's in the can."

"He's in a can?"

Both men burst out into laughter at her question. Belle was about to ask him to clarify further, but Gold tugged her arm towards the door the man indicated.

The smell radiating from the space was all encompassing and rancid, causing both of them to wrinkle their noses, and gag.

"August?" Belle called out, pushing her way though another swinging door with an icon of a man on it. She figured that he might be in the men's quarters if he was anywhere.

This room smelled even worse, which Belle turned away in disgust realizing that it was a restroom. "August? Are you in here?"

One of the stall doors opened, and August stepped out. "Belle! What the hell….what the hell are you doing here?" he yelled back, his voice rising in anger.

Belle took a step back, taken aback by his anger. "We escaped."

"Yeah. I can see that. What the hell are you doing here? Why…you brought another one?" he exclaimed, as if just seeing Gold for the first time.

Anger surged through Belle at her supposed "friend's" reaction. "They were going to kill him! They were going to kill us."

August pinched his brow, and then shook his head. "Fuc…" He looked up sharply. "We need to get out of here. If they see you with me, then we're both dead."

"You knew that they would kill us?"

"Shh…just shut up right now. No questions. We need to get out of here now. Come on," he said, motioning to the door, "follow me."

"Is this your home?"

"No," August scoffed, walking away to an adjacent room. "My friend's place—we'll be safe here. No one goes out here, or knows about this place."

"Oh," Belle said, still feeling unsure about where her friend had taken them.

After making them nearly run out of the bar, August had driven them in an ESUV, up a dark mountain road to this house, nearly an hour away from where they had come from. Belle had gripped Gold's hand with all of her strength throughout the entire car ride. While she had read of such vehicles in books she had read in the library, she had never imagined them to be so big, and bumpy. Her heart was still pounding, even now, while they were safe inside, sitting on the couch.

"Here," he said, reentering the room with two bottles labeled "Evian," along with a couple brightly wrapped bars. "Eat this."

"Thank you," Belle said, taking the food and examining it. It looked like nothing she had ever eaten, but at least it wasn't soy oatmeal.

Gold took August's offering with less suspicion, quickly popping the top and drinking heavily from the bottle.

"All right," August sighed, taking a sip of a dark brown glass bottle, as he sat down in the chair in front of them. "From the beginning—how the hell did you get out?"

"We ran."

"Yeah. Got that part. I want to know how you got out."

Belle glanced over at Gold, not knowing quite where to start. "I saw them…I saw them kill Nolan and Boyd. I don't know how I found my way back, but I ran through Sector Six, and then found Gold, and we ran."

"Ran where? That place has more security than Fort Knox. How did you escape?"

"A tunnel," Gold murmured, his palm clammy against Belle's hand. "There was a tunnel."

"We found it," Belle continued. "It lead out to the desert, and then we saw a sign for I-10, and I remembered it from your card."

"Lucky me."

"It was lucky! If we hadn't found that…" Belle shrugged.

"Right," August said. "Were you followed?"

"They tried to shoot us with those hooks, but we ran," Belle explained. "We've been running all day."

"And you didn't see anyone?"

"No." Belle glanced over at Gold, who nodded in confirmation. "August," she said, turning back to her friend. "Why do they want to kill us? We didn't do anything to them. Why do they tell us that there's an Island if there isn't one?"

August groaned again, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, why do I have to be the one to tell you? See, this is why they made up the Island, so…never mind." He sighed, taking another swig of his bottle. "Look—you're not like me. You're not…human. I mean, you're human, but you're not a real human. You're not a real person like me. You're a copy of a real person."

"What do you mean, 'not a real person'? I…we're real people," Belle said, releasing Gold's hand to point to herself. "I'm a real person."

"No, you're not. You're clones."

"Clones?"

Gold leaned closer. "What's a clone?"

"It's a copy. You're a copy of a real person out in the world, and when they need replacement parts, well, you're it. They made you to take body parts from you—you're their insurance policy. The Island is a just story they tell you, so you, I dunno, stay happy, until they need you."

"But, we have memories! How can I be a copy of a person if I remember my whole life?"

"Lemme guess? You had a white picket fence, surrounding your light blue house, and a yellow golden retriever named Yeller growing up?"

Gold flinched beside her.

"And you," he said, pointing to Belle. "What kind of pet did you have? A lab? A cat? A turtle?"

"A black lab," Belle replied weakly.

"Okay…so that means that you grew up in an apartment on the ocean, and your father was an inventor, and your mom was deceased. How am I doing so far?"

Belle could only stare back, her blood going cold at his words.

"They make these stories up. None of that happened—it's just a fake memory that they implanted in you. The life you had? It never happened. Don't believe me? Look, I'll show you," he said, standing up and walking over to a screen hung on the side of the wall. He pressed a button and it immediately lit up, showing a news report. "Show me news on Eli Gold."

The screen flicked over to a lady sitting in front of the desk, with a picture of Gold in the corner, with the words "Billionaire Involved in Plane Crash" below it.

August pushed a button on the side of the monitor, and the volume increased, allowing them to hear the words that the woman was saying.

"Investigators from the NSTB are still trying to determine what happened to real estate mogul, Eli Gold's, plane to cause it to crash into the Pacific Ocean late last night. Gold, the lone survivor of the crash, is still listed in critical condition—"

The woman went mute, as August pushed the button again. "See?"

Gold glanced at Belle, and then at the screen again. "That's…that's me," he breathed, staring at his doppelganger's picture.

"No, that's Eli Gold. The man owns basically all of New York. You're just his clone, and probably, one of the most wanted things on this planet if that report is true."

"That's why…" He stopped, looking over at Belle. "The Island. They were going to kill me, weren't they?"

"Yes," August answered tiredly. "That man," he said, pointing to the screen again, "paid a helluva lot of money to make you. And he wants, well, your parts. Your sponsors, or whatever they're calling it now, own you. You're their ticket to living another fifty years, and believe me, once they realize their property is missing—"

"I'm no one's property. No one owns me," Belle declared, growing angry at the thought that someone owned her.

"I hate to be the one to tell you, but yes, they do. Look, I'm not saying that I agree with any of this. In fact, what Mills is doing out there with you guys is highly illegal. Why else do you suppose that they keep you underground in an old military installation? They don't want to have anyone find out what they're doing. Believe me, if they knew that you were actually walking around and talking, people would have a riot."

"Then, we need to tell people!" Belle snapped. "We need to tell people what's going on!"

"Oh, no, no, no…believe me, your sponsors are the last people that want to know, or care, what you are. To them, you're simply an insurance policy—spare parts, nothing more."

"How long?"

"What?" August asked, lifting his brow at Gold's question.

"How long," he repeated quietly, "have they…how long have they kept us down there?"

"Well, let's see…what's your name?"

"Gold Two-Gamma."

"And you're—"

"Belle Eight-Delta."

"Okay, so, if I remember correctly, the Gamma's are the fourth generation, so you're anywhere from three to two years old, and then the Deltas are the second generation. You were part of the first full production batch, after the prototypes, so you're between seven and five—"

"Five."

"What?"

"Five years," Belle mumbled. "That's when I was 'rescued' from the outside."

Gold looked over her and grabbed her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "What do we do?"

"Well, you're gonna need to get out of town as soon as possible, that's for sure. Your numbers—those are the area codes of your sponsors. Eight for Los Angeles, and then Two is for New York. Both of your sponsors are in Los Angeles now, so you're going to want to stay as far away from there as possible." He sighed, looking away for a moment. "The train station in town has a train that runs down to the border. I can help you do that; might be able to get you set up with some fake passports to get your over the border as well."

"And then?"

"And then…" August trailed off, wincing as he gave Belle a sad shrug.

"What if we tried to find our sponsors, and told them what they were doing to us?"

"Have you been paying attention? They're not going to want to see you, Belle. They're the last people that you want to go to for help. If I were you, I'd disappear, and believe me—Mexico is the place to do it.

"Look," he said, standing up. "You've got to be exhausted. How 'bout you two rest here for the night, and then I'll get you to the train station in the morning?"

Belle looked over to Gold for approval, which he gave, after a slight hesitation. "Okay."

"Okay, good. Well, if you follow me, I'll get you all fixed up," he said, motioning for them to follow him down the nearby hallway. "And remember—" he said, stopping in place, and pointing his finger at them. "I was never here."

It was only after August had made them swear again that they hadn't been followed, or would leave in the middle of the night, that he had finally left them alone in the spare bedroom for the night, with the promise to wake them in the morning. Before he had left, though, he had also given them a change of clothing. After running in her dirty clothing all day, the fresh clothes were a wonderful luxury that left Belle feeling refreshed, even if she felt a little strange wearing so little material.

"Hey."

Belle turned around at Gold's voice and smiled.

"Do you need to go in there?" he said, pointing to the bathroom behind him.

"No, I'm fine."

He nodded, and walked back into the small room, turning off the lights. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Belle said, embarrassed that she had been caught looking at him. "You just…look different." August had also given Gold a red shirt and black shorts that made him look younger, and also showed his legs, which she couldn't quite look away from, having never seen them before.

Gold averted his eyes, embarrassed.

"Not in a bad way," she quickly corrected. "Just…different."

He snuck a glance up at her and smiled sheepishly. "You look different, as well…you look very pretty."

Belle looked down at herself, and a blush rose to her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered. "I like you in that as well. I've never seen your legs before."

"Oh," he said, his head tilting in surprise. He lifted one up for her inspection, and shrugged, smiling again.

"Very nice," she said playfully, mimicking his pose with one of her own.

He chuckled, and shook his head at her antics, before suddenly going quiet. "Belle?"

"Yes?"

"I just realized…I never thanked you for saving my life. I never thanked you."

"You didn't have to," she said quietly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You didn't have to…you risked your life to save me."

"Of course, I did. Gold, you're my…" She trailed off, all the words coming to mind simply not enough for what he was to her. Friend? Confidant? Everything? "Of course, I had to save you. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant saving your life."

"As would I," he whispered, his lips quivered with emotion. He swallowed, his eyes darting nervously to Belle's. "I would do the same for you. Always."

Belle looked up into his kind eyes, watching them become suddenly bright with tears, and reached out to grab his hand, threading her fingers through his, and pulled him down to sit beside her on the bed.

A deep pang filled her chest, knowing that he spoke the truth. She gripped his hand tighter, not knowing what to say in response. The silence lingered, but wasn't uncomfortable; for Belle, it was simply enough just being close to him, being able to hold his hand. It made her sad that they hadn't been able to do this before—what else had they missed being in that place?

"What's wrong?" he whispered, looking over at her.

"Nothing."

He lifted his eyebrow skeptically.

"Was just thinking," she answered truthfully. She glanced back down at their hands, and indulged herself in rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand.

"Belle?"

"Hmm?" she said, glancing up from their intertwined hands, hearing the sudden worry in his tone.

"What's going to happen?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"That man…he looked just like me."

"I know." Her own mind had yet to be able to comprehend what she had seen with her own eyes, let alone fathom that there was a person out there that was a copy of herself as well. "It'll be…we'll be okay. We need to rest, though," she continued brightly, forcing her tone to be convincing.

Gold nodded, and looked around the room. Belle knew what he was thinking; there was only one bed in the small room, with nowhere for him to lie down.

"Stay here?"

His head jerked sharply around, and his eyes widened in incomprehension when she patted the bed.

"It's okay," she said, slipping under the covers, and moving over so he could join her.

"But—"

"Gold, it's okay. There are no officers here. It's okay, you can share a bed with me."

His face was still stricken with panic, but he slowly nodded and got into the bed as well, keeping his back to her as he skirted the far edge of the bed, ensuring that he didn't risk touching her.

Belle could only smile at his nervousness, and held back her urge to try and hold his hand again, not wanting to force him away.

"Goodnight, Gold."

"Goodnight, Belle," he whispered, and then turned off the light, bathing the room in darkness.

"Belle! Belle!"

Belle's eyes shot open, feeling herself being shaken by firm hands on her shoulders. "Wha…what?" she murmured, looking around, not understanding what had awoken her in the darkness.

"Belle," Gold repeated, stoking her arm up and down. "Hey, I'm here. I'm here…"

Oh. She calmed instantly, albeit only slightly; her heart was still pounding out of her chest, and a thin sheen of sweat made all of her sheets and clothes cling to her.

"You were having a nightmare," he explained softly.

Nightmare? She panted, trying to catch her breath, while trying to remember what she was dreaming about, but her mind was blank.

"You were screaming my name."

"Oh. I…" she swallowed, and took a deep, steadying breath. "I, um…"

It wasn't until she glanced up, that she realized Gold was still holding her, tucking her protectively to his chest, as he continued to stroke her arm. She began to pull away, old habits creeping up on her, and he tensed immediately, as if realizing their position as well; but then, she relaxed into his embrace, leaning against his hard chest, and enjoying the comforting warmth that radiated from him.

Gold relaxed as well, tentatively resuming his calming stroking.

Belle sighed, finally feeling her heart start to calm. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, but then paused, and shook her head "no," finding that the darkness made it easier for her to speak the truth.

"Was your…were you dreaming about me?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes suddenly. She blinked them quickly away, and buried herself closer to Gold, anchoring herself to him, willing herself to believe that he was real, and alive, next to her.

"I'm sorry."

Her heart stopped for a second, and she pulled slightly away, so she could see the faint outline of his face in the moonlit darkness. "It's not your fault."

"But, I—"

"No," Belle whispered, unable to bear him feeling any guilt over her nightmares. "You did nothing wrong. I just…" she trailed off, sliding back down to curl back up on his side. "I'm scared," she admitted finally after a long moment, feeling a sense of relief about saying the words out loud.

She felt his breath hitch, and his chest moved as he swallowed hard. "About what?"

"Losing you."

"Belle…" His breath began to come faster, and she felt him try to pull away, but she only shook her head, and wrapped her arm around his torso.

"Just…" she stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat as well. "I just…I can't lose you."

"You won't," he said, his hand reflexively tightening around her.

She sniffed, nodding to herself, feeling reassured by his words. "We're going to be all right."

"Yes," he agreed. "We're going to be all right."

"Can you stay like this?" she whispered, settling herself back on his chest. "Hold me while I go back to sleep?"

"Always," he breathed.

Belle smiled, and nodded, closing her eyes, and letting herself succumb to the pull of sleep, safe in his arms.