Summary: After being cast off by Rumpelstiltskin, Belle finds herself in a quirky town, unnable to forget him.

Ch. 1

There was a fork in the road. Belle didn't know which way to go. She had been following the trail in Bedlam Woods all afternoon, ever since leaving the dwarf hamlet with just a few coins to her name and the clothes on her back. But now it was getting dark, and even if she wanted to turn back for the village, it would have been another three hours of walking.

Belle took a chance and went left. The trees thinned as she walked on, indicating another town must have been nearby. This was her life now, she supposed—wandering from town to town, living off scraps and the kindness of strangers. She may have been born of nobility, but poverty was an easy talent to pick up. All she needed was a place to stay, a few good meals, and something to do. If only her father could see her now. Belle clutched her cloak thinking about him. She couldn't go home now, not after months of living with . . .

Rumpelstiltskin.

His name made her heart drop to her knees. He had taken her from her family, her life, had given her a home and compassion she hadn't expected. And love.

Yes, most surprising of all, love.

Belle sat on the side of the road on a fallen tree to catch her breath, not that she was exhausted from walking, but she was tired from thinking about him. Rumpelstiltskin had cast her off with just a wave of his hand, barely a flicker of pain in his eyes that would indicate he loved her. He may have put on a good show, but Belle knew the truth: despite his greed for power, he cared about her.

Belle stood, brushed off her dress, and continued walking. No, she most certainly couldn't go home. She missed her father and her friends, but they would never understand what she went through. Even if they understood her feelings for the man most people considered a monster, they would only mock her, call her a silly girl and arrange another marriage for her to suffer through.

Belle was through with all of that. No one had to know about her time with Rumpelstiltskin, but from now on, she would be free. She would be her own person, go wherever she wanted to go, and try her hardest to forget the only man she ever loved.

This was her life now.

Belle's stomach rumbled and she wondered if she would have to hunt for her food tonight. She didn't mind a nice rabbit stew, but having to kill and clean the poor creature was something she was prepared for. Belle could see small lights flickering through the trees, the flames of a village settling in for the night. She rounded the bend in the trail to a wide prairie with long yellow grass. The town sat before her, snuggled between the hills like so many other picturesque villages she had passed through with cobblestone streets, smoking chimneys, and the faint sound of music coming from the local tavern. Belle made a b-line for wherever there might be food.

By now, it was dusk. The farmers were just getting in from the fields and making the same trail to the tavern as Belle. They watched her curiously as she walked down the lane, eyeing her and whispering to each other in gruff, burly voices. Belle kept her head up and walked on, impervious. It wasn't the first time men leered at her, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Belle was expected to be thrown out of the tavern as soon as she walked in, but she was surprised to see more than a few women inside, waiting tables and playing cards with the men. A band played in the corner by the massive fireplace. The sounds of a mandolin and drums floated above the loud voices of the townsfolk. Belle sat at an empty table under the staircase, a special place for secret lovers and conjuring magic, she assumed.

A waitress with salt-and-pepper hair and a missing front tooth approached her. "Get ya something, love?"

Belle looked around, wondering if they even served food. She pulled out the last coins from her dress pocket and laid them on the chipped table. "How much for some soup?"

The stout older woman eyed Belle up and down, and her lips turned up in a grin. "Newcomer, eh? Lemme see what I can do for you."

The waitress flounced away to another table and Belle slumped in her seat. She watched the band perform a lively harvest tune and a group teenage boys play chess. At the bar, a gathering of men were having a heated discussion over mugs of beer. Belle leaned in to hear them better.

"They're coming closer," an older man with a white beard said.

"We don't know that for sure," a young man said. He was tall and boyish, with blond hair and a thin frame. He pants hung loose around his waist by a rope. "It's too soon to ask for his help—"

"He could be out only hope," the old man argued.

"The price is too damn high!" the young boy yelled.

The tavern came to a halt. The musicians stopped playing and the teenagers looked up from their game of chess. The young man blushed and looked around the pub. "Sorry," he said.

The chatter rose little by little until it was as noisy as before. The waitress with the missing tooth came by Belle's table and set a plate of heart country food before her—potatoes and carrots, squash soup with blackened chicken and a mug of ale.

Belle stared wide-eyed at the food, and though it literally pained her to say it, she shook her head and said, "I can't afford this."

"You can pay me later, love," the waitress said. "You look like you could use a break."

Belle smiled weakly. "Thank you," she said.

The waitress left with a wave of her fingers and Belle dove into the meal. She threw all propriety out the window and ate greedily, taking huge gulps of grog and licking her fingers when she was done. The inn at the dwarf's hamlet only gave her a bowl of thin broth and a hunk of bread, so she was thankful for such a feast. When Belle's stomach was satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and continued to watch the young man argue with the town elders.

"I don't want to wait until the ogres have burned down our entire village," a man with a cane said.

"They won't," the young man disputed, "not if we fight!"

"You? Fight?" The man with the white beard laughed. "You're 150 pounds soaking wet, Jack. A weakling like you won't stand a chance."

The older men laughed and the boy named Jack hung his head. Belle felt sorry for him, being ganged up on by a gaggle of old crones. Even though she didn't know exactly what they were arguing about, her heart went out to him.

Jack said, "It's too risky to ask for Rumpelstiltskin's help. His price could be anything."

Belle felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart pounded and her mouth dried up. Rumpelstiltskin. It seemed these countrymen were as desperate as her father had been at getting rid of the ogres. A flicker of hope ignited within Belle, the thought of seeing him again and wondering if he might have changed his mind, if he might have realized . . .

But no. It was too fantastic a thought even for her. The flame of hope doused itself out and dread took over. She prayed he wouldn't come.

A man bumped into her table as he stumbled across the bar. He was tall and hairy, a beast of a man with a bushy beard and meaty hands. He was also very drunk. "'Scuse me, m'lady," he slurred. He gave Belle a wink. "What's your name, pretty?"

Belle pursed her lips and turned her head away. She didn't need this right now, not when she had Rumpel on her mind—his silly laugh, his gentlemanly bow, the way he light up when she entered the room. He heart ached again.

"Hey!" the large man knocked on the table. "I asked you a question!"

"Leave me alone!" Belle yelled.

"Aw, c'mon." The man reached for Belle's hand, but was stopped when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, his large frame like a wooden door, and Belle could see thin, frail-looking Jack standing by.

"She said to leave her alone, Brom." Jack's voice was shaky, but clear. His accent was from the eastern lands, where the leprechauns supposedly hid amongst the high cliffs by the sea.

Brom pushed Jack to the floor with one hand. The music stopped and a few patrons gasped. "Stop it!" Belle cried.

"Git outta my pub!" a man from behind the bar yelled. He charged at Brom with a broom and shooed him away. "That's the third time this week, Bromwell!"

Brom waved the old man off and lurched away for more understanding company outside the tavern. Belle went to Jack and knelt by his side to help him up. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Jack touched the back of his head and nodded. "Yeah, fine." He looked at Belle, his eyes glossing over to a dreamy kind of stare, and he smiled. "Thank you."

Belle pulled him to his feet—he really didn't weigh any more than she did—and thanked him for stopping Brom.

"Was nuthin'," Jack said with a blush. He held out his hand. "I'm Jack, by the way."

Belle shook his hand. "I'm—" She stopped. She remembered that she was in a new town with new people. She could be anyone she wanted. "Bo. You can just call me Bo."

"Bo?" Jack smiled. "Pretty name. where ya hail from?"

"Uh . . ." Belle shrugged. "All over, I guess."

"Visiting anyone?"

Belle laughed. "No."

"D'ya need a place to stay?"

Belle gave the man a suspicious look. Wolves came in all kinds of forms—the burly kind like Brom and even the naïve, eager-to-please kind like Jack. He held up his hands, claiming innocence.

"My mum and I have a sheep farm up the road. You could stay in the barn tonight."

"The barn?"

"Mum doesn't like strangers. She was peddled a bum spell by a witch once and never forgave herself."

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Belle said.

"Y'need a place, yeah? How many coins have you got?"

Belle cast her eyes down. "Not many."

"C'mon, it's nice and warm," Jack said. "Do it as a thank you for me."

Belle gauged Jack's face, wondering if there wasn't something else up his sleeve. He seemed harmless enough, hardly big enough to hold down a meal, let alone a defenseless woman. And he did save her from Brom. Belle pursed her lips and nodded.

"Okay," she said.

Jack beamed widely and held out his arm. "Okay! Follow my lead, dearie."

Belle stopped just as she put her arm in Jack's. Dearie. It was something Rumpel was famous for saying, sometimes patronizing, sometimes coyly. Though he was sarcastic, Belle had always found it charming, like a game only they knew how to play.

"Are you all right?" Jack asked.

Belle shook the heartbreaking thoughts from her head and smiled weakly. "I'm fine. Let's go."

Jack led her through the town square and up the hill again to a small farm. The horizon was a bluish pink, dampening the fields before them to a dull gray. A light was on in the cottage and Jack had to sneak Belle quietly up to the barn from the back. It was a small stable where the sheep rested after a long day of grazing. There was only five of them in the pen; thin, dirty looking things that gave Belle a bad eye as she walked in.

Jack fetched a blanket from a cupboard on the wall and handed it to Belle. "Will you be all right here?"

Belle looked around again. It was dirty and smelled like hay and manure. Still, compared to a night in the woods where wolves could attack at any minute, it was practically a palace. "It's wonderful," she said. "Thank you."

Jack smiled again. "Pleasure." He stuck his hand out. "Welcome to Beansville, Bo."