She hadn't meant to break it.

His hands had forced hers to hold onto the cup, his fingers pressing down almost painfully, an anguished, desperate countenance far too close to her own.

"Just look at it," the man had urged. God, she didn't even know his name. He looked at her with such familiarity, such devotion, she had been afraid to look him in the eye for fear of meeting the intensity of his stare.

Belle hurled the cup at the wall, hearing the shattered remains hit the hospital floor.

"Just GO AWAY," she had yelled, eyes blurry with tears. This was too much, it was all too much. The noise, the confusion, the light. For as long as she could remember, she'd been captive in a cell with naught but a single high window. The glare of the hospital lights hurt her eyes as she sat on the bed now, looking at her hands. They shook. With what? Rage? Fear? She was no longer in control of her emotions, just as she'd lost control of herself a long time ago.

She recalled the look on the strange old man's face, a broken, unseeing stare, a quivering lip as he struggled to maintain calm. He had limped out of the room with an unsteady gait, and she saw him grasp the wall as he left the room, as if he needed more support to keep from falling under the weight of what she'd done.

She had felt guilt when she awoke. Belle had no idea of how much time had passed, but the hospital was quieter now. Lifting herself up, she swung her legs one at a time over the mattress, steadying herself once she was on her feet. She knelt down and gathered the remains of the cup in her hands. Belle fingered the small pieces. To her surprise they were soft. She recalled the smooth coldness of the walls in her cell; she'd often found it refreshing to rest her head against the brick. But this was different – delicate and precious.

"Porcelain," she whispered, the sound of the word foreign to her lips. It'd been a long time since she'd seen anything so beautiful. When the man had given her the cup she'd been too distracted by his nearness and the terror tightening in her chest to give it much notice. She'd looked at it to comply with his wishes, in hope he'd give up and leave. But Belle hadn't really seen the cup until now.

She gulped as she recalled his face as he surveyed the damage. The pieces she held in her hands had once been precious to him, she realised, and she had ruined it. Her life was so touched by misery she could hardly have expected anything different. She was destructive and alone, and that is how it had to stay.

"Belle?" she heard a woman's voice from behind her. A woman with flowing dark hair and a red shirt with a jacket rolled up to her elbows stared down at her in surprise, taking in the image of Belle kneeling on the floor clutching pieces of a shattered teacup.

"Belle, honey... what are you doing?"

"Who... who are you?" Belle asked after a momentary pause. Words could not come easily, her throat was dry.

The woman blinked. Her tongue flicked out and licked her red lips nervously.

"Ruby, your… friend," she replied with a smile. She paused again, and the silence in the room became almost tangible.

"I thought you'd break the silence, you usually do," Ruby said finally, with a little half-laugh.

"I break a lot of things," Belle replied, looking at her hands once more.

"Hey..." Ruby's voice was concerned as she gently took Belle by the elbow and led her back to the bed. She took Belle's hands in her own and turned her palms upward, picking up a shard and examining it in the light.

"What's this?" she asked curiously, one hand resting comfortingly on Belle's arm.

"I, uh... It was a chipped cup, but now it's just broken," Belle replied quietly, "it was his."

"His?" Ruby queried, her eyes meeting Belle's. She realised her meaning a second afterwards, a wordless "oh" at her lips.

"He said I'd dropped it in his castle, can you believe it?" Belle felt a smile tugging at her lips despite herself, "he kept going on about magic and charms. Apparently, this was my talisman and if I stared at it hard enough I'd remember..." her brow furrowed.

"I'm not sure what he wanted me to remember, exactly."

Ruby drew back a strand of hair from Belle's face and tucked it behind her ear, "and you threw it against the wall? Why?"

"I was scared," she admitted.

"... I'm sorry now," she added quietly. She could feel tears burning at her eyes again, "I get this sense that he really cared. I couldn't see it then, in the moment. But now... I'm just so sorry."

"Shh," Ruby hushed, "it's okay-"

"No!" Belle yelled, clamping her hands around the pathetic shards of porcelain, "it's NOT okay! I spent so many years with nothing, my head full of these... delusions that someday I'd get out and I'd connect. I wouldn't be alone anymore, I'd be happy. And... maybe I could make someone else happy too."

Ruby looked at her wordlessly, her large green eyes full of sympathy.

"But it's just the same. My mind isn't right. I'm broken," Belle whispered. "There's no hope for me anymore."

She opened her hands to see the porcelain had cut into her skin. Tiny drops of blood appeared in her palms, but she felt no pain. She didn't - couldn't - feel a thing.

"I am broken, just like this stupid cup."

"That's not true," Ruby said with certainty, "you're not broken. You're one of the most remarkable people I've ever met. You fix people, Belle. You help them be better. It's what you do."

Ruby grabbed some tissues from the table next to the bed and dabbed Belle's palms gently.

"That man… Mr. Gold. He loves you, and you love him. You may not remember it right now, but I think that cup is like… a symbol."

"Of my penchant for causing unhappiness?" Belle replied sarcastically.

"A symbol of hope," Ruby scolded.

Belle started at that word. Hope. Yes, she knew all about that.

"Ruby… do you think you could get me some glue?" she asked after a pause, tracing the edge of one of the pieces of the cup.

Ruby looked at her as if she'd sprouted wings, "what? You're not going to… oh… okay then!"

"I'm not crazy," Belle said with a shrug, "Mr Gold is allowed to walk around town thinking he lives in a castle and can use magic, all I want to do is try to repair the damage I've caused."

"Belle… it's just a cup," Ruby crooned, trying to take the piece from her.

"It isn't. Not to him. And I just feel so terrible about it," she raised her chin in a defiant gesture, hoping the other girl would get the hint.

After a moment, Ruby smiled. A little unsurely at first, but when she decided she was glad that Belle's spirits had improved at least, it grew into a wolfy grin.

Belle had gone to sleep then, and when at last she found herself regaining consciousness she momentarily felt like Mr Gold was there by her side. Instead of alarm, she was happy, complete. She even felt a pang of sadness when she realised she was alone. She'd only imagined him there, the memory of his lips on hers fading.

Mouth dry, she found a glass of iced tea at her bedside table. After taking a long sip, she glimpsed the bottle of glue Ruby had left while she was asleep.

Piece by piece, Belle applied glue to the corners of the porcelain. It wasn't going to be perfect, but somehow she knew Mr Gold would appreciate the effort. Besides, she had little else to do. It was as if her fingers just knew where the pieces went, and soon enough she had half a cup in her hand.

As she moved, she imagined a hundred different scenarios as to what she'd say to Mr Gold, to give him hope. She hated to be the one to deprive anyone of that most important factor. Without hope… everything is meaningless. Belle herself had learned that in her captivity, to keep fighting, to keep enduring in the hope that someday something would change.

In her mind's eye, she saw his face light up at the sight of the mended teacup. She imagined he had a face of subtleties, always careful and guarded, in control. Belle decided the man who had desperately tried to make her remember the day before was not who he really was. No, he was gentle and kind, his voice always laced with concern. He was a man who had held this sentimental keepsake close to his heart simply because it reminded him of someone he loved.

What would she say to him when she returned it? Her heart was pounding in her chest, her cheeks were flushed. Her hands tingled with anxiety. Belle couldn't understand why she felt this way. It was just a cup. She was just fixing a cup she'd broken, to make amends. Nothing more.

"I'm really sorry for breaking your cup. I was just frustrated- no. That's not right," Belle said under her breath. She cleared her throat.

"I fixed it. I know it means a lot to you," she whispered again, lodging another piece gently into place.

"I'm sorry."

Belle paused, realising she'd put one of the pieces in entirely the wrong area. With a little sigh, she started to pry it out.

"Good afternoon, my dear," a sultry, dark voice crept to Belle's ears, making her shiver.

"Regina," she replied shakily, feeling the room spin a little as she looked up at her captor.

The woman walked slowly towards the bed, like a tigress eyeing her prey. Her eyes were cold and dark, almost lifeless in their unfathomable depths. They were cruel eyes. Belle wished only to shrink back under her coverlets, but she knew she must try to be brave.

"What are you doing, pray tell?" Regina asked with an air of nonchalance.

"I-I've been, uh, fixing this cup since Ruby visited."

"Ruby checked out hours ago, Belle." Regina glanced at a watch on her thin, pale wrist, "you've been gluing a broken teacup back together for six hours. Careful now, people might start to think you're crazy. But then, you always were a bit of an… outsider."

Regina eyed the object in Belle's hands with distaste, "that won't do, it looks hideous." She made a grab for it, and Belle lurched back.

"Leave me alone," she whispered forcefully, clinging to the cup for dear life.

"You're not in a position to be telling me what to do," Regina threatened, bringing her face close to Belle's with a snarl. Belle flinched, closing her eyes. Her hands had relaxed on the cup, and Regina snatched it from her.

"No!" Belle yelled, lunging forwards. She was too late. Regina dropped the cup to the floor, crushing it under her boot for good measure.

"I thought I taught you a long time ago, Belle. Happy endings don't exist," she stomped on the porcelain again before adding, "and you can't resurrect dead things, like hope… and chipped cups."

Belle suddenly realised she was crying, hot wet tears streaming down her cheek. Regina smiled coldly, satisfied, as she turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her.

After a few minutes, Belle wiped her eyes. There was no use in crying over something that meant nothing to her. It wasn't even hers. It was just a cup. She got out of bed once more and kneeled on the ground, surveying the damage. Tenderly, she picked up what remained of the handle.

Drawing it to her lips, she kissed it softly, the world falling silent around her. She pictured Mr Gold's face close by hers as they held the mended cup together.

Suddenly she knew what she would say.

"Broken things can be fixed."