AN: This is my first OUAT fanfiction so if you have any ideas or critiques please put them in the reviews

All characters and some scenes aren't mine and belong to the creators of OUAT

Chapter 1:

(Storybrooke)

Henry Mills sat in the library as he poured through the pages of Once Upon a Time, his teacher, Mary Margret, had given it to him days before and he knew, he knew it was all real. Everywhere he looked he saw the characters in the people he knew.

His teacher, he saw Snow White, the town therapist, he saw Jimmany Cricket, his mother, as much as he didn't like it he knew she was the Evil Queen. He was determined to find everyone he knew.

"Wha'cha reading there Henry?" a unique accent sucked him out of his book, he looked up to see the doll-like face of the librarian, Miss French, she glanced over to him while she stocked up the bookshelves. "I don't think I've seen that in the library before."

"Oh it's not from here, it's um…" he searched for some sort of an explanation that he didn't think he would have to make, "It's homework." He said with an unconvincing smile on his face.

She came over and picked up the cover as she tilted her head to read the title, "Ah, fairy tales, very important." Miss French went back to shelving books, "I won't tell anyone." She said in a whisper as she winked.

Henry knew that she was joking but he also knew that Miss French would believe him before anyone else would. He never saw her outside the library and she always talked about books as though they were real. "Miss French?"

"Hmm?" she turns her head as her long, brown curls touched her shoulder. She had to be in the book somewhere, somewhere. "You believe books are real, right?" he asked, as she pondered the question he took a look at the book.

"Well do you?" she asked, with a slight look of concerned on her face. This obviously wasn't the time to tell her, he didn't have enough evidence.

"Well these stories had to come from somewhere right."

"Not necessarily," Miss French took the seat next to Henry as she finished shelving all the books on the cart and slid the book over to herself. "These are all fairy tales so they were all based on lessons and things in everyone's life." She started to flip through the pages and pointed to an example. "See here, Pinocchio, this was obviously made up but it was made up so children wouldn't lie. Just because it's made up doesn't mean it's not real."

Her speech confused him, that wasn't what he meant but she at least didn't think he was crazy. Miss French left him to maintain her position at the counter and Henry returned to the book. He had already read Pinocchio and started to read the next story.

The Beast continued to spin the straw into gold as Belle fiddled with the tall, dusty curtains that kept out all the sunlight. She looked over at him as her curiosity overpowered her better judgment.

"Why do you spin so much?" she asked him, he stopped spinning for only a second, the sound of her voice startling him. "Sorry, it's just, you've spun more straw into gold then you could ever spin."

The Beast spun the wheel slower as he responded without looking at her, "I like to watch the wheel, it helps me forget." She stopped tugging at the curtains for a moment, "Forget what?"

He stopped spinning, looking for an answer, "I guess it worked." He laughed at this even though it was far from the truth, Belle's mouth widened into a smile as he watched her giggle, he had no idea what she was doing with the curtains and got up to investigate. "What are you doing?" he asked her

"Opening these, it's almost spring we should let some light in." she responded, she hadn't seen the outside world for months and the idea of bright light filling the dark castle was one she couldn't resist. She tugged harder and harder but the curtains refused to move, "What did you do? Nail them down?" she asked the Beast.

He looked at her, surprised, "Yes," he said as if it was the response most people would have. Belle rolled her eyes at this and pulled at the cloth until the curtains came down, causing her to loose her balance on the latter and fall to the ground. But she didn't hit the floor as she expected, instead Belle landed in the arms of the Beast.

"Miss French, is my son here?" the strict voice of his mother, Regina Mills came to him as he bookmarked the page and stuffed it into his backpack. Miss French looked up from the current book she was reading and looked over to the empty table Henry was sitting at not a minute earlier.

"Well he was here a little while ago but he doesn't seem to be here anymore so you might want to check somewhere else." She said, fully knowing that Henry was still in the library somewhere.

"Shouldn't you keep better track of the people you have in your library Miss French?" Mayor Mills snapped at her, Miss French gave her a half cold look and calmly retorted with, "I'm the librarian Mayor, not your babysitter, I don't think I'm the one who has trouble keeping track of Henry." She returned to her book and ignored the icy glares of Regina.

"You're walking on glass Miss French." She said, trying to keep the snarl to a minimum, Regina walked out the door as the heavy door closed behind her, Miss French craned her neck and called out, "You can come out now Henry." Henry emerged from behind the shelves and made his way to the window to make sure that his mother was out of the way.

"Henry," Miss French called out, he looked her way as she motioned for him to come closer. "Is there something going on with you and your mother? Is everything alright at home?" she whispered to him.

"No, everything's fine." He quickly replied, that was really the truth but everything he had read about the Evil Queen the more he doubted how good his mother really was. Miss French took his answer with a grain of salt though, "Okay, but you seem to really want to distance yourself from your mother, are you sure everything is okay?" she questioned further.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Henry what's really going on?"

He sighed and decided to tell her, "She's the Evil Queen." Henry left her with that answer and walked out the door.

With Belle in his arms the Beast took a moment to realize what exactly happened, both were equally surprised to see the position they were in, neither saying a word for a minute. He shook off the event and dropped her on her feet, Belle stumbled but quickly regained her balance, "Thank you." She said quietly as the Beast tried to casually pass it off, "It's no matter." He responded as he took a few quick steps away from her.

"I'll, um, put the curtains back up." Said Belle awkwardly, she and the Beast made eye contact and were about to return to their previous past times before he said, "There's no need, I'll get used to it."

He walked back to the spinning wheel and didn't see the huge smile emerge on Belle's face.

There wasn't any question about it, Henry knew who Miss Isabelle French truly was, the only question that remained to him was who was her Beast?

Mr. Gold tinkered with one of the many trinkets that filled his shop, he didn't know what 90% of the things in his shop were or where they came from but they were interesting and kept him busy.

There was a mobile with crystal dolphins and unicorns, dancing around each other in endless circles in the air. There was a candle with two ends and strange designs, an Arabian lamp that seemed burned at the tip, a magnificent chess set, and countless other items. In the whole store there were hundreds of items in the pawnshop and he felt like he once knew about all of them, but only two pieces meant anything to him.

One was a spinning wheel, like everything he didn't know where it had come from or who it had once belonged to, but once in a while he would use it and the wooden wheel and delicate pedal felt natural as he sat at it for hours at a time. He didn't know what he was trying to accomplish by spinning it over and over, and most of the time he thought he was going mad, it was something that he was compelled to do.

The other was a chipped cup, something he never used, always cleaned, and shuddered at the thought of selling it, he had no idea what it was or why he had it.

But he knew for a fact that it was important.