A/N: I wrote this shortly after 2x13 ('Tiny'), and a while after I wrote the third chapter. I'm still having a hard time coping with Belle's memory loss. I thought of this while at work, as my job is reflected through the scenery. It sat for a while, depressing my friends who I forced to beta.
Belle sat up suddenly and looked around. It took a few minutes through her groggy daze to realize where she was. Hospital room. Clean, too clean. Sterile furniture. Everything was plastic, even her pillow which was covered in a thin fabric that posed as a pillowcase. Incessant beeping of different tones coming from various locations. Everything was gray and beige…
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Red. Everything in her mind was red, and it was a struggle to shake the image from her mind. Belle didn't remember anything from her dream except for the color that pervaded everything, seeping from corners of her brain where her memories were just out of reach. It was difficult being in the hospital. The many medications the nurses continually injected her with never seemed to help, but instead pushed her mind beyond her own comprehension and forced her body into an uncomfortable paralysis. She didn't remember much. Even her accident was a blur.
But who she was, she couldn't say. Her own father had only been to visit her a few times, and every time he left more heartbroken than the last. His visits were always brief, and he spent most of the time holding her hand and crying. Of course she loved him, and he was the only comforting familiar face that she was able to pull from the facets of her mind. However, he didn't give her the support that was essential to her recovery.
All she could remember was gray walls, but she wasn't sure if that was from her current time in the hospital or from before. She craved a book. She had read the hospital pamphlets, old magazines and even hospital menu so many times. Belle may not remember much, but she remembered the magic of escapism through the written word.
Her days in the hospital tended to meld together. Wake up, eat, meds, nap, wake up, eat, meds, nap…. The cycle tended to repeat itself several times a day. Her mind was a puzzle with missing pieces that she still kept trying to put together. Sometimes pieces seemed like it would fit, and other pieces seemed like they belonged to a different puzzle. The medications gave her all sorts of dreams. The morning meds gave her restful dreams that seemed a shame to wake up from until she realized she lost most of the day. The night-time medications gave her lucid dreams, where she was unable to differentiate between reality and her own unconscious. When her mind began to clear on her own and the emptiness of her lost memories began to overwhelm her, the nurses gave her the drug that gave her the most frightful dreams. She had terrible nightmares. She dreamt of great black wolves, of small rooms without escape, of terrible sorcerers and witches whose very stare could burn a person's soul. Those dreams always took her to a place that felt familiar but the terrors that it held made the place less than welcoming.
Now that her head felt clear, as clear as it could these days, Belle looked up to the wall to view the clock. It was 7 AM. Breakfast would be served soon. She sighed and turned to lie on her side. She looked out of her room door which was slightly ajar. The nurses outside were bustling about, as it appeared to be the change of shift. Belle wondered what was in store for her that day. Sadly, she knew there would be nothing different. Not until she could regain her memories that seemed like they never wanted to return. A single tear rolled down her face. She was tired of feeling like an empty shell, but she didn't know what to do about it. She hoped the hospital staff could help her. Until then, all she could do was wait.
