A/N: "The Bells of Notre Dame" written by Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz. Recorded by the Cornell University Chorus, David Ogden Stiers, English National Opera, Paul Kandel, and Tony Jay on the Hunchback of Notre Dame soundtrack album (Disney, 1996).

You can lie to yourself and your minions
You can claim that you haven't a qualm
But you never can run from
Nor hide what you've done from the eyes
The very eyes of Notre Dame

—Alan Menken, Stephen Schwartz, "The Bells of Notre Dame"

The Eyes of Notre Dame

"Hey," Emma called up with a smile on her face and a bag of Granny's muffins in one hand. "I heard you were awake. How are you feeling?"

Belle stood at the top of the gangplank of the Jolly Roger, but there was no answering smile on the librarian's face. In fact, calling her expression icy might have been being unduly harsh to glaciers.

In response, Emma felt her grin freeze before it fell away entirely. "Belle?" she asked, bewildered. "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" Belle repeated, as she advanced a few steps down the gangplank. Then, more loudly, "What's the matter? Suppose you tell me?"

"Hey!" Emma snapped. Then, a bit more calmly, "Hey. You're angry with Gold. I get it. I'll come back later, o-or tomorrow, or—"

Belle had taken another step toward her while she'd been talking. "You think this is about Rumple?" she demanded, still advancing steadily. Now she did smile, but it was a bitter, mirthless thing. "You really have no idea, do you?" She shook her head disbelievingly. "Unreal."

Emma was frowning. "Look, instead of insulting me, why don't you just tell me what's eating at you. If it's not Gold, then…?"

Belle hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and descended the rest of the way until she stood on the pier, toe-to-toe with Emma. "Why did you come here?" she demanded. "Haven't you already done enough?"

"Wha—? Belle. Talk to me. Please. We-we're friends. If I've upset you, tell me so I can make it right."

Belle's laugh was a frail brittle thing. "You can't make this right," she retorted. "And you're no friend of mine. If you were, you'd never have used me to blackmail Rumple into getting you to the Underworld."

Emma winced. "You're right," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. It was the only way I could get Hook back. Gold never would have opened the portal otherwise."

"So, that makes it all right?" Belle shot back. "Suddenly, it's okay to use people, so long as your intentions are good? Or, at least, so long as you think they are?"

"Belle?" Emma took an involuntary step back. "Wait. Are you telling me that if you'd been in my place, you wouldn't have gotten Gold to take you where you needed to go?"

For a moment, Belle flinched. Then her gaze hardened once more and she took another step forward to close the gap between them. "You still think this is about Rumple! Emma," her eyes were blazing, "you told him that if he didn't do what you wanted, you'd tell me that he'd become the Dark One again."

Emma paled. "Belle, I…"

Belle waited.

"I mean…"

Belle waited.

"It's not what it…"

Belle's expression turned murderous. "Not what it sounds like?" she supplied. "Because to me? It sounds like you didn't care one way or the other about my feelings, just so long as you got what you wanted. And you weren't even the Dark One at that point."

"Belle. I'm sorry. But if I wanted to save Hook, I had no choice."

"Of course, you had a choice!" Belle countered. "You could have come to me. Do you truly believe that I wouldn't have persuaded Rumple to take you?"

"I—"

Belle was done waiting for explanations. "But that's not why I'm this angry." She shook her head. "You had three options, Emma. You could have told me that Rumple had become the Dark One again. And I would have been furious, both at you and at him. But then, I would have calmed down and realized that, because you were my friend, you thought you had a duty to warn me that Rumple was lying to me again. Of course, I don't know what Rumple would have done. So, I suppose I can't fault you for not choosing that option.

"Still," she continued, "as I said, you could have come and asked me to persuade Rumple to open the portal for you and guide you through the Underworld. You wouldn't have had to mention anything about his being the Dark One again; it was his blood not his magic that was needed to cross over to the Underworld. You needed him. I would have understood that. I did understand it when he told me where he was going. Eventually, I would have found out the rest on my own. And," she admitted, "I would have been furious at both of you for keeping it from me. But, at the end of the day? It actually wasn't your business and I could understand you feeling as though it wasn't your place to interfere. And if I'd been in your place? I don't know which option would have been the right thing to do.

"But then," her glower was back full-force, "you didn't choose either. Instead, you used your newfound knowledge to blackmail Rumple. And in doing that, you demonstrated that you didn't care a whit about either one of us. If Rumple did what you wanted, you-you'd cheerfully help him keep pulling the wool over my eyes. If he didn't, you'd shatter my happiness without a second thought. And you don't understand why I'm cross?"

Emma shook her head. "You're right," she said sounding stunned. "I'm sorry."

"And that's supposed to make everything all right."

"No, of course not," Emma hastened to reply. "Tell me what will."

Belle gave her a long look. "Nothing." She turned on her heel abruptly. Then she spun back. "You know, with Rumple, I always thought I could see the good person hiding behind the monster. Pity I couldn't spot any of the other monsters hiding behind all the so-called good people." She took a breath. "Go away, Emma. I've nothing further to say to you." She turned once more and ascended the gangplank without a backward glance.

Emma watched numbly. She looked down at the bag of muffins, still in her hand. After a moment's hesitation, she placed it at the foot of the gangplank. Then she started walking along the pier, back the way she'd come. It looked like she'd just lost a friend. And, she reflected, the worst part of it was that she was pretty sure she deserved to.