OUaT: Stories, in the End (3/7)
Feb. 28th, 2012 07:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lotus0kidRating: PG (a little more language and violence than you'd find in Disney, and possibly a smidge more sex)
Word Count: 1,943
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Here another character makes an appearance and everything gets all feelingsed up. I adjusted the chapter count, because this chapter was way too long and it was bothering me. Chapters posted every other day. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zombres.
Summary: Regina has been deposed, but the curse is still in force. Rumpelstiltskin fetches something very precious from her vaults. Then things get really interesting.
Chapter Two
Belle wakes to her cheek pillowed on something warm, which her cot never was. It turns out to be Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder. The rest of him is peaceful in sleep, and Belle can’t resist watching him for a moment. It’s probably her only chance.
Soon enough she tears herself away, easing off of the sofa and padding through the ground floor’s rooms. She thinks she could wander for hours, as everywhere she looks there’s another trinket to inspect. There’s dust everywhere too, she notes ruefully on Rumpelstiltskin’s behalf- he still hasn’t figured out how to clean up after himself. But then she sees one place the dust has been kept at bay. One shelf in a display case set behind glass. With one item sitting on it. The front of the case opens on tiny hinges and Belle reaches in to retrieve the porcelain tea cup. She runs her finger along the chip she put in it.
“Belle, I-”
She jumps and almost drops the thing all over again. She turns to Rumpelstiltskin, and finds his expression unreadable as his eyes waver between the cup and her face. Belle knows if she was smart, she’d put the cup back and pretend it meant nothing and they could do another dance around the whole subject. But she thinks she’s waited long enough. “How did this get here?”
Rumpelstiltskin takes a breath, and half-shrugs, “After the curse fell, I... woke up in this house, and it was empty. Except for that.”
“And, why do you think that happened?”
His face shutters, he turns away.
Belle has to press on, “I wanted to say something. I thought about it a lot when I was... in the cell. I wanted to apologize, to you.”
That brings his gaze back to her, if bright with confusion.
“I know now, that it was selfish of me. To try to break your curse, without... without asking first. I decided I knew what was best for you, but I had no idea of the consequences. You were right, I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to be your hero.”
Rumpelstiltskin stares at her. Slowly, his expression turns sad, and tired. “I’ve made so many enemies, Belle. That’s all I’ve done, with the power of my curse. If I lost it... I could never stop running.”
And you won’t let me run with you, Belle silently finishes. Somehow she’s not as grateful as she probably should be.
Someone knocks on the front door, breaking the moment. Rumpelstiltskin looks irritated as he goes to answer it.
“Gold, where’ve you been?” a woman demands, “You disappeared yesterday, we could’ve stood having you around, y’know?”
“My apologies, sheriff,” he practically growls, bristling.
Either the woman doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she strides into the foyer. She’s slim and tall with long blonde curls. “So were you doing anything productive, or just playing hooky?”
“He was with me,” Belle says, managing to draw herself up like the noble lady she once was.
The woman spins around to fix sharp eyes on her, “Oh, well, hi there. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Emma Swan, I’m the sheriff.” She walks towards her with her hand extended.
“I heard. My name is Belle.” She takes the hand and drops into a short curtsey. Sheriff Swan pauses and performs an awkward, half-aborted bow.
Rumpelstiltskin snorts, not quite covering it with a cough, “Sheriff, you ought to know that the curse didn’t quite extend to Belle. She knows who she is, and always was.”
“The Queen locked me up for it,” Belle adds.
“Oh, that’s... I’m sorry, that’s terrible.” There’s genuine sympathy on the sheriff’s face, so Belle grants her a nod and a smile. Sheriff Swan squints, “So, Belle. As in, blank and the blank?”
The question means nothing to Belle, but it makes Rumpelstiltskin’s expression darken, “No.”
Sheriff Swan’s eyes go from him to the full length of Belle. “Sure, Gold, whatever you say.”
“Did you have any news, sheriff?”
“Sadly no. Regina still won’t talk. Not one word. Do you think seeing Belle’s free might get something out of her?” She turns to Belle, “Do you feel like visiting the evil queen in her jail cell? You can spit on her, if you want.”
Belle has to laugh, “Actually, I do want to a bit. See her, not... Well, if I’m honest...”
Sheriff Swan grins, “Okay then, come by the station in a couple of hours. Gold?”
He nods, “Yes, we will.”
“Great,” she heads for the door, saying over her shoulder, “You crazy kids have fun now.”
The silence seems slightly unnatural when they’re alone. “She’s... curious,” Belle remarks.
“In all meanings of the word. She’s Snow White’s child, if you believe it. She grew up in this world and she’s meant to save us all. We’re still unclear exactly as to how.”
“Do you trust her?”
His eyes leave the closed door and land on her, “I trust that she has no desire to do harm to anyone. Though that doesn’t mean she can’t.”
Belle lets him get away with the cryptic half-answer. She has another question, “Blank and the blank? What did she mean by that?”
Rumpelstiltskin frowns, shifts his weight, “Somehow... in a way that quite escapes me, certain of us have become stories in this world. If you asked a person outside Storybrooke who Snow White was, they could tell you. In a garbled, simplified manner. Myself as well, though, again, with barely a teaspoon of truth.”
“And me?”
He raises an eyebrow with a crooked smile, which makes him look a bit like how she remembers him, “Do you really want to know? I thought only you decided your fate.”
Belle matches his smirk, “You’re correct there.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They prepare for the day, showering and changing into fresh clothes. Belle’s clothes are in the guest bedroom- she smiles thinking of Rumpelstiltskin’s almost boyish chagrin at their falling asleep together on the sofa.
They walk outside into a fresh morning. Belle enjoys the brush of a cool breeze on her face until Rumpelstiltskin stops next to a car. Then her skin turns clammy and her stomach drops. Of all the jarring differences between Storybrooke and home, cars top the list of her most despised. Loud, hulking things that foul the air and hurtle through space far too fast for any sane person to accept. And it doesn’t help at all that the last one she rode in took her to the mental ward.
“Belle, are you all right?”
She looks at Rumpelstiltskin, the words to ask if they can walk to the station waiting on her tongue, but she glimpses his cane. She recalls him wincing with every step by the time they ate supper last night. Walking could be as great a problem for him as a car ride would be for her. And, if nothing else, the car ride is guaranteed to be shorter. She forces a smile, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
She climbs into the passenger seat and clicks the belt into place as quickly as she can while blood rushes in her ears and cold sweat beads on her forehead. She keeps her face turned towards the window, willing her muscles to relax and her breath to come evenly. Calm down- you have to calm down. This isn’t like before. Everything is fine.
She holds in a cry when the engine roars into life. Her hands clutch each other tight in her lap.
“Belle?” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice is gentle, worried. “Are you certain you want to see the Queen?”
Belle feels a trickle of relief that that’s what he thinks is the problem. “Yes, I’m certain. Please, just- drive.”
“Very well.” The car lurches forward and Belle’s eyes slam shut. She tries to imagine a team of horses in front of them, the sound of their breathing and the variable tug against the harnesses. But it’s impossible. The ride is smooth as a magic carpet. But it’s not, is it, it’s some machine, a filthy contraption that has no place in her world and she doesn’t understand it and she hates it with all her heart.
The car stops and she cracks her eyes open hoping the ride is over, but no, they’ve only stopped at a red light. People walk along on either side of them, they cross the road in front of the car, and from her trapped position Belle hates them too. Hates them for not knowing how scared they should be, for everything they do know that she doesn’t. And she hates herself for hating them. Her heart is sick with it all and she thinks she might faint. “Please, let me out, I can’t...” she mumbles, barely able to hear herself.
Rumpelstiltskin instantly turns off of the road and into a small parking lot. As soon as they stop again Belle wrenches the seatbelt loose, shoves open the door, and stumbles free of the car, sucking in shaky breaths and bracing herself on a convenient brick wall. She hears Rumpelstiltskin approach quietly, carefully. Shame infects her distress. He must think I really am mad. Maybe he’ll decide the cell is the best place for me. Grief pierces her heart.
But she feels his hand on her back, slowly guiding her away from the wall and into his arms. She wraps her own arms tightly around his torso, buries her face against his neck. “I... I hate them,” she gasps.
“‘Them’ who, Belle?”
“No, not... Cars, I hate cars.”
“Oh,” he breathes, “I think I understand. Why did you not tell me?”
Shame goes on the attack again. “I thought it would be too far to walk. With your injury.”
“You chose to endure something so clearly painful to you for the sake of my comfort?”
She grimaces, “That’s a charitable way to put it.” She pulls herself out of his embrace, resisting the desire to hang on him like a weakling. She straightens up, puts her shoulders back. “How much farther is it?”
He stares at her like she just asked him to chop her arm off. “Half an hour.”
Her bravery wilts in an instant. Her gaze falls on the detested vehicle. She’s doomed.
“Walking, as we will be,” he continues.
Her eyes dart back to him. His expression is stony. “But... we’ll be late. Sheriff Swan said-”
“The sheriff will survive. You’ll not be traumatized again for the sake of punctuality.” His face softens, “Belle, you seem determined to forget how much harm I’ve done you. Don’t force me to do even more.”
Shame tags out for the return of grief. “I don’t like you hurting yourself for my sake any more than you like me hurting myself for yours.”
Rumpelstiltskin smiles, though it’s already pained. He reaches out, and lays a hand on her cheek. “I can do half an hour. I swear.”
Belle can’t resist leaning into his touch. The relief of surrender makes her head spin, eyes slipping shut as she seems to gravitate closer to him. Her heart is full again, but not with hate. She can feel his breath on her face and she wets her lips and thinks maybe now, at long last, gods how she wants him...
She hears him inhale sharply. He lets go and steps away. A cold draft whips between them. Her eyes open and he’s looking anywhere but at her. Pain spikes as her heart closes up, and squeezes itself small and tight in her chest. She walks past Rumpelstiltskin, back onto the street and down the way they were going. You almost forgot he’s a coward.
Chapter Four
Word Count: 1,943
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Here another character makes an appearance and everything gets all feelingsed up. I adjusted the chapter count, because this chapter was way too long and it was bothering me. Chapters posted every other day. For
zombres.Summary: Regina has been deposed, but the curse is still in force. Rumpelstiltskin fetches something very precious from her vaults. Then things get really interesting.
Chapter Two
Belle wakes to her cheek pillowed on something warm, which her cot never was. It turns out to be Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder. The rest of him is peaceful in sleep, and Belle can’t resist watching him for a moment. It’s probably her only chance.
Soon enough she tears herself away, easing off of the sofa and padding through the ground floor’s rooms. She thinks she could wander for hours, as everywhere she looks there’s another trinket to inspect. There’s dust everywhere too, she notes ruefully on Rumpelstiltskin’s behalf- he still hasn’t figured out how to clean up after himself. But then she sees one place the dust has been kept at bay. One shelf in a display case set behind glass. With one item sitting on it. The front of the case opens on tiny hinges and Belle reaches in to retrieve the porcelain tea cup. She runs her finger along the chip she put in it.
“Belle, I-”
She jumps and almost drops the thing all over again. She turns to Rumpelstiltskin, and finds his expression unreadable as his eyes waver between the cup and her face. Belle knows if she was smart, she’d put the cup back and pretend it meant nothing and they could do another dance around the whole subject. But she thinks she’s waited long enough. “How did this get here?”
Rumpelstiltskin takes a breath, and half-shrugs, “After the curse fell, I... woke up in this house, and it was empty. Except for that.”
“And, why do you think that happened?”
His face shutters, he turns away.
Belle has to press on, “I wanted to say something. I thought about it a lot when I was... in the cell. I wanted to apologize, to you.”
That brings his gaze back to her, if bright with confusion.
“I know now, that it was selfish of me. To try to break your curse, without... without asking first. I decided I knew what was best for you, but I had no idea of the consequences. You were right, I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to be your hero.”
Rumpelstiltskin stares at her. Slowly, his expression turns sad, and tired. “I’ve made so many enemies, Belle. That’s all I’ve done, with the power of my curse. If I lost it... I could never stop running.”
And you won’t let me run with you, Belle silently finishes. Somehow she’s not as grateful as she probably should be.
Someone knocks on the front door, breaking the moment. Rumpelstiltskin looks irritated as he goes to answer it.
“Gold, where’ve you been?” a woman demands, “You disappeared yesterday, we could’ve stood having you around, y’know?”
“My apologies, sheriff,” he practically growls, bristling.
Either the woman doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she strides into the foyer. She’s slim and tall with long blonde curls. “So were you doing anything productive, or just playing hooky?”
“He was with me,” Belle says, managing to draw herself up like the noble lady she once was.
The woman spins around to fix sharp eyes on her, “Oh, well, hi there. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Emma Swan, I’m the sheriff.” She walks towards her with her hand extended.
“I heard. My name is Belle.” She takes the hand and drops into a short curtsey. Sheriff Swan pauses and performs an awkward, half-aborted bow.
Rumpelstiltskin snorts, not quite covering it with a cough, “Sheriff, you ought to know that the curse didn’t quite extend to Belle. She knows who she is, and always was.”
“The Queen locked me up for it,” Belle adds.
“Oh, that’s... I’m sorry, that’s terrible.” There’s genuine sympathy on the sheriff’s face, so Belle grants her a nod and a smile. Sheriff Swan squints, “So, Belle. As in, blank and the blank?”
The question means nothing to Belle, but it makes Rumpelstiltskin’s expression darken, “No.”
Sheriff Swan’s eyes go from him to the full length of Belle. “Sure, Gold, whatever you say.”
“Did you have any news, sheriff?”
“Sadly no. Regina still won’t talk. Not one word. Do you think seeing Belle’s free might get something out of her?” She turns to Belle, “Do you feel like visiting the evil queen in her jail cell? You can spit on her, if you want.”
Belle has to laugh, “Actually, I do want to a bit. See her, not... Well, if I’m honest...”
Sheriff Swan grins, “Okay then, come by the station in a couple of hours. Gold?”
He nods, “Yes, we will.”
“Great,” she heads for the door, saying over her shoulder, “You crazy kids have fun now.”
The silence seems slightly unnatural when they’re alone. “She’s... curious,” Belle remarks.
“In all meanings of the word. She’s Snow White’s child, if you believe it. She grew up in this world and she’s meant to save us all. We’re still unclear exactly as to how.”
“Do you trust her?”
His eyes leave the closed door and land on her, “I trust that she has no desire to do harm to anyone. Though that doesn’t mean she can’t.”
Belle lets him get away with the cryptic half-answer. She has another question, “Blank and the blank? What did she mean by that?”
Rumpelstiltskin frowns, shifts his weight, “Somehow... in a way that quite escapes me, certain of us have become stories in this world. If you asked a person outside Storybrooke who Snow White was, they could tell you. In a garbled, simplified manner. Myself as well, though, again, with barely a teaspoon of truth.”
“And me?”
He raises an eyebrow with a crooked smile, which makes him look a bit like how she remembers him, “Do you really want to know? I thought only you decided your fate.”
Belle matches his smirk, “You’re correct there.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They prepare for the day, showering and changing into fresh clothes. Belle’s clothes are in the guest bedroom- she smiles thinking of Rumpelstiltskin’s almost boyish chagrin at their falling asleep together on the sofa.
They walk outside into a fresh morning. Belle enjoys the brush of a cool breeze on her face until Rumpelstiltskin stops next to a car. Then her skin turns clammy and her stomach drops. Of all the jarring differences between Storybrooke and home, cars top the list of her most despised. Loud, hulking things that foul the air and hurtle through space far too fast for any sane person to accept. And it doesn’t help at all that the last one she rode in took her to the mental ward.
“Belle, are you all right?”
She looks at Rumpelstiltskin, the words to ask if they can walk to the station waiting on her tongue, but she glimpses his cane. She recalls him wincing with every step by the time they ate supper last night. Walking could be as great a problem for him as a car ride would be for her. And, if nothing else, the car ride is guaranteed to be shorter. She forces a smile, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
She climbs into the passenger seat and clicks the belt into place as quickly as she can while blood rushes in her ears and cold sweat beads on her forehead. She keeps her face turned towards the window, willing her muscles to relax and her breath to come evenly. Calm down- you have to calm down. This isn’t like before. Everything is fine.
She holds in a cry when the engine roars into life. Her hands clutch each other tight in her lap.
“Belle?” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice is gentle, worried. “Are you certain you want to see the Queen?”
Belle feels a trickle of relief that that’s what he thinks is the problem. “Yes, I’m certain. Please, just- drive.”
“Very well.” The car lurches forward and Belle’s eyes slam shut. She tries to imagine a team of horses in front of them, the sound of their breathing and the variable tug against the harnesses. But it’s impossible. The ride is smooth as a magic carpet. But it’s not, is it, it’s some machine, a filthy contraption that has no place in her world and she doesn’t understand it and she hates it with all her heart.
The car stops and she cracks her eyes open hoping the ride is over, but no, they’ve only stopped at a red light. People walk along on either side of them, they cross the road in front of the car, and from her trapped position Belle hates them too. Hates them for not knowing how scared they should be, for everything they do know that she doesn’t. And she hates herself for hating them. Her heart is sick with it all and she thinks she might faint. “Please, let me out, I can’t...” she mumbles, barely able to hear herself.
Rumpelstiltskin instantly turns off of the road and into a small parking lot. As soon as they stop again Belle wrenches the seatbelt loose, shoves open the door, and stumbles free of the car, sucking in shaky breaths and bracing herself on a convenient brick wall. She hears Rumpelstiltskin approach quietly, carefully. Shame infects her distress. He must think I really am mad. Maybe he’ll decide the cell is the best place for me. Grief pierces her heart.
But she feels his hand on her back, slowly guiding her away from the wall and into his arms. She wraps her own arms tightly around his torso, buries her face against his neck. “I... I hate them,” she gasps.
“‘Them’ who, Belle?”
“No, not... Cars, I hate cars.”
“Oh,” he breathes, “I think I understand. Why did you not tell me?”
Shame goes on the attack again. “I thought it would be too far to walk. With your injury.”
“You chose to endure something so clearly painful to you for the sake of my comfort?”
She grimaces, “That’s a charitable way to put it.” She pulls herself out of his embrace, resisting the desire to hang on him like a weakling. She straightens up, puts her shoulders back. “How much farther is it?”
He stares at her like she just asked him to chop her arm off. “Half an hour.”
Her bravery wilts in an instant. Her gaze falls on the detested vehicle. She’s doomed.
“Walking, as we will be,” he continues.
Her eyes dart back to him. His expression is stony. “But... we’ll be late. Sheriff Swan said-”
“The sheriff will survive. You’ll not be traumatized again for the sake of punctuality.” His face softens, “Belle, you seem determined to forget how much harm I’ve done you. Don’t force me to do even more.”
Shame tags out for the return of grief. “I don’t like you hurting yourself for my sake any more than you like me hurting myself for yours.”
Rumpelstiltskin smiles, though it’s already pained. He reaches out, and lays a hand on her cheek. “I can do half an hour. I swear.”
Belle can’t resist leaning into his touch. The relief of surrender makes her head spin, eyes slipping shut as she seems to gravitate closer to him. Her heart is full again, but not with hate. She can feel his breath on her face and she wets her lips and thinks maybe now, at long last, gods how she wants him...
She hears him inhale sharply. He lets go and steps away. A cold draft whips between them. Her eyes open and he’s looking anywhere but at her. Pain spikes as her heart closes up, and squeezes itself small and tight in her chest. She walks past Rumpelstiltskin, back onto the street and down the way they were going. You almost forgot he’s a coward.
Chapter Four
