A/N: This will stay in the Storybrooke world for the most part, although I might flashback to the Enchanted Forest. Also, I don't own any of these characters...sadly. :/
Isabelle sat in the corner of her cell, her knees drawn up to her chest, not really looking at anything. She saw the little window on her door open, but didn't bother to look up. She knew exactly who was looking in, though she didn't know why the mayor got so much enjoyment out of keeping her here. She had spent many a night wondering this, and always came up empty. The fight had left her, and the only thing that kept her living was the hope that when she got out of here, she would be reunited with him again. She didn't want to relive the memories, but at this point, what else did she have?
Isabelle was the daughter of the florist, a quiet girl who enjoyed reading more than anything else. Most people who met her found her odd, her father included, but she didn't bother with those people. What she did enjoy was escaping from her day job, helping her father manage the shop, and going out to the park and reading whatever had captured her interest. She found books to be a good way to escape, no one was judging her there, and things almost always ended the way she wanted them to.
One particular day she left the shop in her father's capable hands, and made her way past all the other stores to the familiar path of the park. She had a book tucked under her arm, and she could barely wait to open it and begin reading again. She had left off at a tense place in the book.
She decided to sit on a swing and read, since the ground was a still a little damp from the rain the night before. She opened the book and began reading, gently swinging as she did. She didn't see him watching her, the way he had for a few weeks. She wasn't aware of his presence until he spoke, causing her to snap the book shut without marking her spot.
"Must be a good book," he commented, a smile playing on his lips. She cursed herself, knowing it would take her a moment to re-find her place, but outwardly she smiled at Mr. Gold, the town pawnbroker. She knew of him, everyone did, but she had never had a conversation with him before. She smiled, and nodded, unsure what she should say to this man.
He titled his head, and she realized he was reading the title. Feeling brave, she asked him, "Do you like to read?"
"Who has the time?" He smiled at her, and to her surprise he walked over to the vacant swing next to her, propping his cane up against the metal post, and began lightly swinging in time with her.
"I wish I had more time," she admitted to him, looking down at the path her feet were dragging in the wood chips.
He pressed his lips together, looking off into the distance, as if he was remembering something. "Time will make fools of us all."
She frowned, wondering what he meant by that. "Do you always speak in riddles? Or are you just saving that for me?" She could hardly believe she was speaking to him like this, like she had no fear. Most people, when they spoke of Mr. Gold, did so with a hint of fear in their tones. She could hear the words coming out of her mouth, no hint of fear, and wondered where this was coming from.
He looked at her and laughed a little. The sound caused something strange to rise inside her, but she felt like she had heard the laugh somewhere before, in a different life, and she was oddly comforted by that. Deciding that Mr. Gold was just like everyone else, and perhaps even a little misunderstood, she relaxed, resting her head against her hand, which was holding on to the chain attached to the swing.
His eyes stayed on her, lit up with a happiness he hadn't felt in ages. He had been looking for an excuse to speak with her for a long time, but wanted to wait for the right moment. "Perhaps," he answered her question, and she smiled a little, looking at him.
"Is there anything you wanted?" She asked him, just to make sure he hadn't sought her out looking for something.
"Just a word, and to see what had so captivated your attention." He reached for his cane and stood up. "I'll be seeing you around Miss..."
"Isabelle," she told him, still grinning. His smile didn't leave his face, but his eyes twitched for a second, and she thought he looked sad. She dismissed that thought almost immediately, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her as she watched him walk away.
The next couple weeks played out the exact same way, until Isabelle found herself going to the park not to read, but to talk to the intriguing and mysterious Mr. Gold. He would sometimes tell her about a trinket he had come across for his shop, but mostly he would listen to her as she told him about whatever story she was reading. He was a good listener, only asking questions if she forgot to add an important detail, which made the story she was telling confusing.
Her friendship with Mr. Gold had not gone unnoticed, people were talking about it. Isabelle didn't care, and found it somewhat ironic that the same people who thought her so strange found her friendship with arguably one the most odd people in town, well...odd. Her father disliked her friendship with Mr. Gold immensely, and tried to discourage it at every turn. She would often remind him she was an adult, and could socialize with whomever she chose, including Mr. Gold. She didn't want to admit to her father, or anyone for that matter, that she had started to develop feelings for him outside of friendship. Her feelings confused her, and she tried to keep them to herself as she got to know Mr. Gold better. She wasn't sure if he felt anything like she did, she sometimes thought he must, but he was good at keeping things close to the vest.
That particular day she was walking to his shop to visit, since her father had kept her working late, so she hadn't been able to meet with him the park. Her father had been doing things like this lately, not realizing she was smart enough to figure out a different way to spend some time with him.
It was a chilly night, and as she pulled her jacket closer to her, stuffing her hands in her pocket as she crossed the street. She looked up to see the Mayor, Regina, standing on the sidewalk watching her.
"Hello Isabelle," she said in her usual cold tone. "A word?"
"Sure," Isabelle said, and the two women fell in step.
"Off to see Mr. Gold tonight?" She got straight to her point. Isabelle was surprised her friendship with the pawnbroker had caught the interest of the Mayor.
"How did you know?" She asked, caught off guard.
"I make it my business to know. I'm sure you don't know, but Mr. Gold and I are old friends, and it makes me so happy to see him have found love."
"Love?" Spluttered Isabelle, unsure what to make of this news.
"Well Isabella, I would have thought that to be obvious," Regina said to her, her eyes dancing as her plan began to unfold. Isabelle was as stupid as she always had been, in Regina's opinion. "I just hope you treat him well. Have a good evening." Regina left her four doors down from Mr. Gold's pawn shop, and Isabelle stood there dumbfounded, watching her walk away. Surely she was mistaken. Shaking her head, Isabelle walked a little quicker, entering the warmth of his shop only moments later. The bell rang, and Mr. Gold emerged from the back moments later. He smiled when he saw her, both unaware they were being watched by someone else.
"Hello dearie," she gave her a familiar smile as she walked towards him.
"Hi," she said. Feeling bold, she hoped up on the counter, so she was sitting near him, as he leaned on the counter.
"Anything interesting today?" She asked, looking at him.
"Nothing today," he said, his eyes meeting hers. Before either of them could stop anything, she brought her face against his, and their lips met in a kiss. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply; having wanted to be able to do this since the moment he had first laid eyes on her. His hand came up, and hesitantly he put it on her face, and he felt her smile.
His eyes opened a moment before the door flew open, and her father burst in, angry. Both of them pulled apart, Mr. Gold's expression guarded as he saw horror cross Isabelle's.
"Dad what are you-" He cut her off, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the counter and towards the door. She looked back at Mr. Gold, and his expression almost scared her. He looked murderously furious, and she almost expected him to stop her father from dragging her out of the store, but he didn't. She was grateful for that, unaware of how she would come to regret it.
Her dad threw her into his van roughly, and drove off to their home. Isabelle sat in the back, on the floor where they usually kept flowers, confused and a little scared. She had never been handled so roughly like that before by her dad, but she knew when he drank he was prone to fly off the handle in an angry tirade.
When they got home he pulled her out and threw her onto the floor of their home. Before she could look up, his foot connected with her ribcage, causing her to curl up. The wind was knocked out of her as he kicked her again.
"Stop..." she groaned, but he didn't hear her, or didn't want to hear her. She wasn't sure. Her vision became blurred with blood, eventually going fuzzy, before she succumbed to the blackness.
Isabelle shook herself out of the day dream, frustrated with the events. Her mind replayed that night, kissing Mr. Gold, talking to the mayor, her father's beating, the look on Mr. Gold's face, it all blurred together. She knew somehow all these events were connected to why she was here, but she couldn't put it together. She didn't understand why the mayor had locked her down here, and wondered if her father had persuaded her to do it in an attempt to keep her from Mr. Gold. It seemed absurd to her, to think someone would go through so much trouble to keep her apart from him, but nothing else made sense, and she'd had nothing but time to try and make sense of this.
Her door opened, and the same nurse came in with a tray of food. Isabelle just watched her set the tray down, not moving until the thick door shut behind her. She stood up and looked at the tray, filled with familiar hospital food, nothing that was worth eating. She ate anyway, not realizing that her ticket to escape was sitting on the tray, almost going unnoticed by her. Chicken was for dinner that night, and lying there was a small cutting knife. She could hardly believe her luck, as she touched the tip. Sharp, sharp enough to stun someone long enough to get out of this place and make enough noise that someone noticed her before she was dragged back.
Drawing upon her courage, she quickly stood up and hid behind the door, where the nurse couldn't see her when she opened the door. Isabelle needed the element of surprise on her side, not trusting herself to be able to physically over power someone.
"Do or die time," she whispered to herself as she heard the key turn in the door. The nurse walked in, and Isabelle froze for a brief moment, her eyes connecting with the nurse who had been in charge of her since she had woken up in this cell. Then, acting out of instinct, she raised the knife and plunged it into the nurse's neck.
Isabelle didn't stay to see what happened, she just pulled the knife back out and ran, into a hallway, and up some stairs. No one tried to stop her as she opened a door, which set off an alarm. Isabelle didn't stop just kept running, even though she heard someone yell for her to stop. She burst out of the hospital into the cold night, and kept running despite her bare feet.
"Whoa!" Someone yelled, and before she could do anything, a blonde woman had caught up with her. "Are you okay?"
"No. You have to hide me. She can't find me," Isabelle told her hysterically.
"Who can't find you?"
"Regina."
Emma Swan thought about taking the woman back to the hospital, she seemed confused and possibly mentally ill, but a little voice in her head stopped her. She helped the woman into the back of her police cruiser and took her to the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret.
Mary Margaret was sitting at the table reading a book when Emma came in with a young woman wrapped in a blanket. Mary Margaret stared at the woman, trying to place where she had seen her before.
"Do you mind if she stays, at least for the night? She's confused, I found her wandering the streets," Emma asked her, setting the girl on the sofa.
"Of course," Mary Margaret got up to make her a cup of cocoa, as Emma grabbed a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Emma led Isabelle to the bathroom, so she could shower.
"So this is the hot and this is...yeah. I'm Emma," she added, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Isabelle," Isabelle told her quietly, looking at the bathroom. "Please...please don't tell anyone else I'm here."
"What happened?" Emma asked.
"I don't remember..."
Emma nodded and stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
"That poor girl," Mary Margaret said, filling a pot with water. "Outside with no shoes on, in this weather!"
"Yeah, I think she broke out of the hospital," Emma sat down and put her badge on the table.
"I wonder who she is," Mary Margaret sat across from her after putting the pot on the stove.
"All she'll tell me is her name is Isabelle, and to not tell anyone where she is."
"Isabelle...there was a girl who died here with that name a year ago," Mary Margaret's eyes became wide.
"What happened?" Emma asked.
"I don't remember," Mary Margaret cocked her head to the side a little, trying to remember. "It was kind of hushed up, because her father is still out, he runs the flower shop, but she was beaten to death."
"Well apparently not to death," Emma said, indicating to the girl who was in the shower.
"There was a funeral..." Mary Margaret told her. "The whole thing was really strange. Isabelle was kind of a strange girl. She didn't have a lot of friends..."
"So?" Emma responded, thinking that she did not have many friends either.
"You should talk to her about it, or maybe talk to Henry about it. He might remember it better than me. I just remember she was beaten to death, and that soon after Mr. Gold took possession of most of her things."
"He has his hands in everything."
"She was really the only friend he had. It was strange."
Isabelle stood in the shower, her legs shaking as the warm water ran down her body. She hadn't taken a truly hot shower since before she was taken away. Her hand was cut from holding the blade in her hand. She didn't know what she had done with it; in her haste she must have dropped it. She looked down at the water pooling around the drain, at first red as she watched the blood of the nurse and herself off her skin, then lighter pink, and then finally clear. She washed her hair slowly, enjoying the feeling of soap in her hair, the feeling of it sliding down her skin, from her neck to her feet.
When she ran out of hot water she stepped out, wrapping a fluffy towel around her. She wiped the steam off the mirror with her hand, and took a look at herself for the first time in a year. Her hair was long, still a chestnut brown. Her blue eyes looked dull and a little scared. There were dark circles under her eyes; her lips were pale, as was her skin. She looked away, not wanting to see anymore, and put on the clothes Emma had given her. She then walked out, took a deep breath, and readied herself for the questions she knew she would have to answer in order to stay.
"How do you feel?" Emma asked her, taking a look at her.
"Human," Isabelle told her, sitting down on another chair as Mary Margaret put hot chocolate in front of her.
"Are you hungry?" She asked anxiously, and Isabelle shook her head no. She remembered Mary Margaret, this other girl she did not.
Emma seemed to realize this. "I'm Emma, the town's new sheriff."
Isabelle swallowed, looking at her. "I guess...you have some questions?"
"A few," Emma admitted.
"I don't know what happened. I know that I've been locked up somewhere in the hospital, and the only person I know, that knew I was there, is the Mayor."
"Why would Regina keep you locked up? That doesn't make sense," Emma said, looking skeptical.
"I don't know. I don't understand any of it; I just know you can't tell her I'm here."
"Well don't you think she's going to figure out you're not there anymore?" Emma asked her practically.
"She won't know where I went," Isabelle told her.
"She can't keep you locked up against your will," Emma told her. "You're an adult. I won't let her."
"There is no love lost between Emma and Regina," Mary Margaret told a confused looking Isabelle. "You can sleep here tonight, we'll figure this out."
Isabelle looked at her, relaxing for the first time. "What happened to everyone...?" She asked. What she wanted to ask, was what happened to Mr. Gold, the man whose face had haunted her for the last year. Mary Margaret didn't know that, however, and filled her in on her father, who still ran the flower shop. Isabelle had no desire to see him. She also told her about Gavin, a man who had been very taken with Isabelle, and made his attraction well known.
She ended up on the couch that night, and fell asleep. The last thing she thought of was Mr. Gold's face a year ago, contorted with rage.
That night Mr. Gold was out walking. He had been paying a call on someone who wished to make a deal for him. Deals in this world were less interesting than they had been before, but he was content with this. For now. As he walked back to his shop to close up for the night, something shiny on the ground caught his eye. He gingerly bent down and picked up the item, a small blade, the gleaming silver stained with red blood. It was still fresh. He looked up, expecting to see someone nearby that could claim the blade, but there was no blood, or body, to explain it. All that was nearby was the hospital. Narrowing his eyes, and determined to discover the mystery behind it, he pocketed the blade and walked on.
The next morning Emma rose, finding Isabelle right where they had left her, sound asleep on the sofa. She looked peaceful, and Emma sighed, driving off to the mayor's office. She found Regina behind her desk, looking cool as always.
"What can I do for you sheriff?" Regina asked, a slight snide in her voice. "If this is about Henry-"
"This isn't about Henry," Emma cut her off, prepared for their usual battling. "It's about a girl I found wandering around last night claiming you have been keeping her prisoner in the hospital?" She could barely believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she believed anything of Regina, ever since Graham's death, which she still suspected Regina had a hand in...she just wasn't sure how.
Regina's eyebrow lifted. "Excuse me Miss Swan? Do you hear what you are accusing me of?"
"Did you?" Emma refused to back down.
"I assume you are talking about Isabelle French, a highly disturbed girl. She was not being kept in a prison cell. She was in the psychiatric ward...where she belongs. When she was telling you this colorful tale, did she happen to mention to you she stabbed a nurse in her bid for freedom?"
"No...she did not," Emma hated Regina's ability to make her look like an idiot. "And I assume you can produce paperwork showing she voluntarily signed herself in?"
"Miss French was not in the mental state to be signing anything. Clearly," Regina looked back to whatever she had on her desk.
"She seemed fine to me."
"Oh, are you a health professional as well? I didn't know. I expect you will be arresting her for stabbing a nurse?"
"Was the nurse harmed?" Emma asked, intending to go over to the hospital to check this out herself.
"Luckily, no. I believe stabbing is still illegal, though, even if it does not result in death."
"I'll be looking into it," Emma turned on her heel and strode out, not seeing the look Regina was giving her. Emma's investigation could ruin everything, but Regina was also not prepared to give Mr. Gold his ally back, either.
Isabelle and Mary Margaret were walking out of a store; Mary Margaret had bought her things to wear. Isabelle was smiling, the sun on her face, in a sweater dress and pair of heeled boots. People were staring at her, as if a ghost had come back to life, but she ignored it, too happy to be able to be around people, out in the morning air.
Mary Margaret was smiling, listening to Isabelle talk, when she saw Mr. Gold walking down the sidewalk. She suspected he was heading towards his shop, and when their eyes met he gave her a nod before his gaze slid over to Isabelle, who was staring off towards the path to a park she had enjoyed going to. Mary Margaret watched his face, several emotions flashing quickly across before he regained his composure again.
"Would you mind...?" Isabelle asked her, wanting to go to the park and see if it had changed.
"No, not at all," Mary Margaret took her eyes off Mr. Gold to look at Isabelle. She walked away, wondering what that had been about, not seeing Mr. Gold walk after Isabelle.
Isabelle felt like she was living in a dream as she stepped off pavement and onto wood chips. Her swing was swaying slightly in the wind, and she sat down, ignoring the cold as she began to laugh like crazy, spinning in a circle.
"Well, well, well," she heard a familiar Scottish accent, and let the swing spin around to face him. Mr. Gold was standing in front her, a smile playing on his guarded face.
"You," she said, standing up quickly.
"Me," he put his hands out, indicating that it was he standing in front of her.
"What happened to you?" She asked, her eyes searching his face for any trace of the angry man she had last seen.
"I think the better question is what happened to you, dearie?"
"Regina," she said quickly. "She locked me up. I don't know why, and everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I swear it's true."
Mr. Gold felt white hot anger rise inside him, because he firmly believed Regina was capable of keeping someone locked away.
"Did she now?"
"I swear," Isabelle said earnestly.
He took in the information slowly, not sure how to best proceed with the news. He knew that if Isabelle had been locked away here, that she had been locked away before as well, and while the news that she was indeed alive warmed him, the hate he felt at being deceived made him angrier than he had ever been. Only he knew the game she was playing here, and he could bring it crashing down around her, if he wished.
What he needed was an ally. Taking another look at Isabelle, her hopeful look gazing at him, he decided he had lost her twice; he was not going to lose her again. He was going to help her remember, and use her to help Emma bring down the curse. This charade had gone on too long, anyway.
"Where are you staying?" He asked abruptly, changing the subject.
With the Sheriff...and Mary Margaret Blanchard," she told him as he began to walk. She walked next to him, keeping pace easily.
He smiled, gleeful that part of his plan was already in place. He took her in the direction of his pawn shop, locking the door behind them quietly when he got her inside.
"I have something for you," he said, as she looked at the chipped tea cup sitting on his counter.
"Oh?" She asked, trying not to remember what happened the last time she stood in this building. He nodded and produced a red rose. She took it slowly, not seeing a grin play across his lips. She felt like she had been given this by him before. She looked up at him, and saw him watching her closely.
"Thank you," she smiled back, thinking everything was happening so quickly today. He nodded and moved closer, his face inches from hers.
"I have been waiting a long time for you," he said, and then their lips met. Her hands made a fist around the flower, the thorns sticking her skin and causing her to bleed, and her eyes flew open as memories began to flood into her brain. Everything came back, in rapid succession, as her two lives began to blend together.
She pushed away from him, her eyes wide; the rose at her feet.
"It's you," she said, breathing heavily.
"What is your name?" He asked, hoping it had worked.
"You, all this time," she repeated, looking around wildly, as if an animal released from its cage for the first time.
"Tell me your name," he commanded.
She looked back at him, seeing his face without the curse. "You look like a man," she said, stepping towards him again. "How I've missed you..."
"Your name..."
"My name is Belle."
