AN: So I'm rewriting! I'm open to anything people might want to say. I added more interaction with some of the real characters, please tell me if they're OOC.
The office smelled like lavender. I usually liked the smell of lavender, but here it just reeked of air freshener lavender, not the natural kind. The magazines were all geared towards older people, talking of things like the how to be a mother and what to expect if you're expecting. Then there are the board games. Children sit on the floor playing together and I'm the only teenager here. I suppose that after the curse shattered the different age groups dealt with it different. Adults and children were in more need of counseling. Funny how things changed, it was usually teenagers that needed the psychiatric help. I glance around the room. It was usually crowded when I went. Father made me go three times a week and with the rush Dr. Hopper had of people, my daddy must have been paying a fortune for the therapy. Today is Wednesday and the waiting room only houses a few people. There's the savior's son and me. I'm sitting in the chair looking down at my freshly painted pink nails. My father is glancing up from his magazine at me.
"Aria?" He whispers. I don't respond. He doesn't deserve a response. Someone who's only reason for sending you to therapy is the fact that he would rather have Princess Aria then Alyssa Capella doesn't deserve a response. "Aria?" He whispers again and I glance up at him for a moment before looking back down at my nails.
"If you call my Alyssa then I'll consider responding." My voice sounds louder then it did before the curse had been broken and even louder then it did when we were still in our realm.
"Sweetheart," he whispers and brushes some hair our of my eyes. "I'm just trying to help. Please don't be angry."
"To late for that." I pick up a magazine about good local attractions. I hate local. I hate Storybrook now that everyone has started calling each other by the old names. I hate what the town has become. I pause and look around the waiting room one more time. Henry's staring at me now. I roll my sea blue eyes and point to my father who's up and picking out another magazine. He smiles at me.
"I love you, Aria." He sits back down again. "And I want you to be better." I toss the magazine on the ground and grip his smooth hands in my own petite ones. My pink painted nails dug into his skin slightly to make my point.
"The let me go dance again," I whisper. "Cancel all of the sessions, let me go back to the studio, and dance all I want. It's what makes me better, daddy. It's what I want to do. It's the only thing I want to do." Ever since the curse was broken, daddy had forbid me or any of my older sisters to dance anymore. He tried to lock the studio and throw away the key, but I loved dancing and I don't think daddy could ever really deprive his youngest of something she wanted more then anything in the world. He paid Mr. Gold the rent every month and let me dance to my heart's content, as long as I reluctantly accompanied him to therapy and played by his rules, which was not something I was always keen on doing. Especially when it came to Michael, or Prince Harry as most called him nowadays. Harry was a senior in school. He used to go out with my sister, but when the curse came, they stopped, but father and Harry struck up a agreement that he would still stay heir to the entire estate that daddy owned in Storybrook as long as he stayed with one of us and regardless of the age difference. Harry picked me. It was terrible to listen to him talk of the future we would have together when I finished school. Harry was just part of it though. He broke Sophia's heart when they stopped and then jumped right down the line three years to her younger sister. Apparently it wasn't true love. I was starting to think that the damn thing everyone is always talking about nowadays didn't even exist. Dancing was the only thing I really loved. Now that the curse was broken, it was the only thing that made sense. Diving and twirling and jumping across the hard wooden floor made me feel like I was flying. On the days that reality was to hard to bear I would retreat to the small studio my sisters and I owned together and I would dance until my feet blistered and bled. The music would blast louder then anyone around would care to hear and I would lose myself in my own world, though this was nothing new, not even with my newfound memories, I was always in my own world.
"Angel, I know you hate it here but Dr. Hopper is going to help you remember." I tossed a curl of my blonde hair out of my face and glared at mt father, who had sat down next to me.
"I remember just fine, daddy," I hissed under my breath and looked back down at the magazine. The savior's kid looked up at me. I rolled my eyes and he giggled a bit more, burying his nose in his book again.
"You don't want to remember, though. There's where the problem lies-" I stop him before he can even say it.
"Say Alyssa and I'll respond to the statement." My father looks pained and passes me the check for Dr. Hopper, without another word. He couldn't even say my name. My real name. I hated to admit it, but it hurt worse then I had ever cared to think about. Sophia and the rest of my sisters had forgotten who they were nowadays. It was easier that way for them, but not for me. I loved Alyssa. I loved me. My father didn't look at me when he got out, removed his keys from his pocket and told me that he would be here in a hour and a half when my therapy was done. I felt a stab of pain, but I was not going to forget about who I was. I would not go back to shy, quiet, timid Princess Aria who snuck around, lied and manipulated to get what she wanted. Alyssa had it in her, but she was upfront and headstrong. I liked her better.
"Your shoes are funny," I heard a voice say. It ripped me from my thoughts. I looked down at the small boy who was sitting cross legged now and looking into my deep blue eyes. I pursed my lips. "They don't have laces or anything." Ignoring the savior's son was harder to do then it sounded or looked. "I'm Henry and you're Princess Aria. I've seen you come in here with your dad. You're always wearing funny shoes."
"Alyssa," I snap automatically and turn my attention to my nails. "I'd much refer to be called Alyssa. Why doesn't anyone understand that?" Henry looked put off.
"I can call you Alyssa. I just read your story the other day and-"
"It doesn't give a very accurate portal of my personality now." Henry looked up.
"I know, right!" I was a bit taken aback. "It makes you seem really mean and it makes your sisters look like the bad guys!" It didn't make me a moment to look down at the child.
"That part is as true as it gets, they are. My entire family is."
"Hey," he says looking at me again. "They can't be worse the my mom! I mean, she's the evil queen." My huff stops momentarily and I chuckle. Henry smiles. He wasn't half bad. Henry is looking down at my shoes again. I don't know why I did it. I never had any maternal instinct or any instinct at all when it came to children, I am the youngest, but I pulled my legs up and pulled the shoes off, passing them to Henry.
"They're dancing shoes," I whisper. "If you like to dance you call them 'jazz shoes' but they're used for more then jazz." I pass him the shoe and he takes it into his hand. They let you flex your feet easier and the rubber soles provide traction on the wood floor." Henry feels it and looks at me. "See that?" I point to the suede patch. "That's for when you're turning. It makes it easier." The boy smiles and passes me my shoe back.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were Cinderella. They're all worn out!" I slip them both back on and chuckle.
"Dance is the only thing I ever really do, Henry. They wear out easy when youre always dancing. I have millions more pairs. different kinds too." There were to many kinds to count, but they always seemed to wear out. Maybe that was a sign that I should have stopped dancing as much as I did. No matter, father always got me new pairs when I needed them. Henry opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the waiting room opened and shut. I looked up from Henry, my smile fading. Mr. Gold walks in, his cane tapping on the ground as he goes. Ms. French follows him. She looks less then pleased to be here. Henry smiles when he sees the two lovers.
"Hey, Belle!" He exclaims. She looks up from the book she carried in and looks over at Henry, her smile brightening almost instantly.
"Hello, Henry!" She proclaims. "How are you?" Henry makes a face.
"Waiting for Dr. Hopper, I forgot to pay him for the session yesterday. I was just so excited! Grace and I are working on a project in school and..." I tune the conversation out and lean into the chair.
"...Hey, just wait a second, Belle. I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a second." She nods and laughs a little, but when Henry leaves the room her expression darkens again. She turns to Mr. Gold.
"Rumple, when I said I didn't need a therapist, I meant it." Her voice isn't stern though. It's pleading. I look over at the scene, pretending the read a magazine. My father had always told me to stay away from Miss French and Mr. Gold. It was common knowledge that the town knew on instinct. Mr. Gold's fierce protectiveness over the beautiful librarian manifested into hate for anyone that so much as looked at her the wrong way. The librarian's imprisonment was common knowledge and I didn't even want to think about what he had planned for Regina and the rest of her captors.
"Love," he started and brushed some hair away from her face. "You've been through to much to have to deal with it yourself." I perked up and listened, still pretending to read the magazine about mothering. Lord knows what it looked like I was there for to the unknowing eyes of Mr. Gold and his love, but they were to busy speaking to each other to even notice my presence.
"Rumple, I have you," she said and looked over at him pleadingly. I almost felt bad for her. Almost. He looked pained.
"Belle, please," he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Just try to let us help you. It'll all be ok, just please try." Miss French closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace. I felt a pang of jealousy and nerves at being in the same room as this. I didn't know Mr. Gold was capable of being kind to anyone, but it was fairly obvious that his heart belonged to Belle.
"Rumple," she took his hands. "Let's talk together. I'll stay over with you tonight. I won't work tomorrow." She must have been desperate if she was willing to give up work for a day. Library was open until eleven, I know because it's across from my families' studio. "Love," she whispers. "I don't need this."
"Dear, what you told me that Regina and those guards did to you and the nightmares, the-" I toss the magazine on the ground and look over. I have always had a curious streak.
"What did they to to you?" I was breaking every rule my father had set. I was not supposed to associate with the pair, but I was lonely and sick of sitting there reading a magazine on being a mother and breast feeding. They both look over at me and Mr. Gold's face tightens and his jaw sets. He drapes a protective arm around Belle and gives a cold glare.
"I'd rather not discuss this with any of King Edward's daughters," he looks at me. "We all know the past your father's had with people who so much as look his baby daughters the wrong way. We know how it ended for all the suitors, courtesy of you and your sisters just as much as daddy dearest." Belle looks at him and puts a hand on his shoulder. I don't know her very well, but I can see that this is a talk they've had more then once.
"Rumple," she whispers. "She's just a child. Leave her be." Belle looks over at me and smiles a small smile.
"What did they do?" I ask again, against my better judgment. I should have dropped it there. I should have listened to Mr. Gold and his snap about my families and the past ways we had in or old world. Old being the key word in that sentence. I would have said something about Gold's protective feelings over Belle, but it seemed out of place. Overprotective he might have been, but suffocating like my father he was not. the librarian opens up her mouth to speak but the door opens and Dr. Hopper comes out.
"Aria!" He says and smiles a small smile. I pick my cold demure back up and start with my nails again.
"Alyssa," I snapped. He sighs. "God damn it, why does no one remember my name the way I want it remembered?" Belle smiles a bit and the door opens again and Henry walks back in.
"Hey, Dr. Hopper!" He exclaims and passes him a check. "This is from Emma. I forgot to give it to you last week. Really sorry." The doctor smiles at Henry and takes the check.
"Don't worry about it, Henry." The boy exits with the book still tucked under his arm. Dr. Hopper turns to me. "Ready?" He asks and I shake my head. I'm never ready. I hate therapy.
"No."
"Do you want to go for a walk?"
"No."
"Want to play a game?"
"No."
"What do you want to do?"
"Be a workaholic like everyone seems to think I am." Belle smiles. I only briefly glance over at her before looking back at Dr. Hopper. "Give them my session. I don't want to talk." He looks over at Belle, who's in Mr. Gold's arms. They're circled around her torso and she's looking at me, with a small smile playing on her lips. He's frowning, but I don't expect anything more. Dr. Hopper looks at a loss.
"Can we talk for a second out here?"
"No."
"Can you at least tell me why you don't want to talk?"
"The advice about the bedrest when I got migraines didn't help my dancing, neither did the pills that were supposed to reduce panic attacks and help me sleep." Dr. Hopper sits down next to me.
"Your dancing," he says with a knowing smile. "Is that what all of this is about?" I catch myself and don't say anything else. Belle stands up and walks over. I hate it when adults try to talk to me and when they try to get me to talk to them. It happens often enough. I'm the youngest of all my sisters and my father has sent nearly everyone in Storybrook to try to help me embrace my past. suddenly, I don't want to talk to Miss French anymore. I can tell she's trying to help Dr. Hopper's problem.
"How about this," Belle says and gets down in front of me. She's using a voice reserved for children who come into the library. freshman research papers make me sure of it. "How about we both go in together," she says and tilts her head.
"Belle, love!" Mr. Gold starts, but she looks at him.
"Rumple, please," she whispers. "For me." That shuts him right up. I look at Miss French. She has my attention. "We'll take turns answering question and we'll talk to Dr. Hopper together?" I don't move or talk. I just look into her big blue eyes and bit my lip a bit. "Mr. Gold's not the only one who can make deals," she says and looks at me. "I'll even throw this in." She picks her book up and passes it to me. "You can leave it here so you don't have to read that anymore. I think you'll like it." I look up from my nails.
"How do you know? You don't know me." Belle smiles despite my rude tone.
"It's about a girl. She's a bit like yourself." I look up.
"Again, you don't know me." Belle looks at me and thinks about the point I make, wich is, of course, a valid one. Mr. Gold looks over at the two of us.
"I won't have you speaking to her like that, dearie. If-" Belle looks over at him, begging with her eyes that he leave this to her.
"Rumple, she's a child. Scared, alone, sad, and unsure of what to do. Trapped somewhere and-"
"I am not!" I proclaim, but Belle's made her point and Gold sees that she wants to try this so he backs off. I don't know why and I wish he would just go away for good. His presence and unspoken threats have started to scare me. Belle extends the book again. Dr. Hopper watches me as I look down at it and she offers it up.
"I was reading it because a little girl told me it was good and wanted me to know, but if you want to read it, we can talk about it later? It's called 'A Little Princess.' The girl's name is Sarah. Is one of your sister's named Sarah?" She asks. I nod slightly and touch the cover. Miss French stands a little. "So how's about that deal now, Miss Capella?" I look at Miss French.
"One month's rent off the dance studio and we have a deal." She looks over at Gold. He's frowning.
"I'm sure we can work something out later." I look at Belle again and she holds her hand out. I take it and shake. We both stand up and walk into the room with Dr. Hopper. Despite myself, I am curious about what happened to Belle. I don't know why she's helping me, but I don't want to talk to Dr. Hopper and Belle's offer cuts my time in half. I can see her looking down at my shoes. I don't feel like taking them off for her the same way I did with Henry. "They're all worn out," she says noticing my gaze. I nod and sit down on the couch. She sits next to me. I ware shoes out until the soles are ripped. Only then do I start on a new pair.
"They always have been," I whisper. "That's one thing that never changes."