Enjoy

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He'd always be sweeping the hallways that never collected dirt, cleaning windows without smudges, and polishing doorknobs that were never turned. That was his job, and the mayor would always remind him of that. He was as trapped in this job as the few nurses who were selected to tend to the girl, in the bowels of the hospital, hidden from sight. He'd lean on his broom, waiting for dust to fall, and the nurses would sit at their desks, waiting for visitors that would never come, with the exception of Mayor Mills, all eyes glazed over, anxious for something to happen.

He'd only see the girl to clean up after her. She'd sit huddled in her corner, those eerie blue eyes of hers gazing out the window, ignoring him completely. Insane, she was said to be. And little to no progress, as far as he could tell. She'd have out bursts occasionally, tossing the food the nurses brought for her across the room, letting the lukewarm meal stain the white room, shattering plates and cups. There'd been concern that she might use the shattered glass to harm herself, but that fear was dashed quickly, the girl always retreating to her corner, legs pulled to her chest, her face buried in her knees.

He'd only tried talking to her once.

"No, it's not very good, is it?" He asked jokingly, mopping the mess up from the floor. "Between you and me, I'm pretty sure the chickens actually rubber." He looked at her expectantly, hoping for a smile. Her head stayed down, face hidden from view.

"You know the nurses won't be happy to hear you broke another plate. They think they're doing you a favor, giving you the dinnerware. Showing that they trust you, or something." They all pitied her, and harvested a bit of ill-will against the mayor, as all citizens of Storybrooke seemed to. She'd had her admitted for undisclosed reasons, or at least undisclosed to him. But what did he expect, being a janitor.

"Oh, but a bit of luck." He knelt down and picked up the glass cup, which had come out mostly unscathed. "You've only chipped this." He held it up to her, and her head suddenly shot up, a look of distress and confusion upon her face. Her mouth opened as if to form words, but language seemed to fail her, and instead she held out her hand, reaching for the cup. Cautiously he handed it to her.

She stared at the glass with intensity, turning it over in her hands, stopping when she found the chip in the rim of the glass. She ran her index finger over it, and let out a gasp as her skin caught, cutting her finger.

"Now you've done it." He snatched the glass from her, tossing it into the bin with the rest of her meal. She stared after it with a look of…something. Sadness? His brow knitted. "I'll go get a nurse to fix you up."

She was denied glassware following this incident, and the outbursts too seemed to dwindle. He'd look in on her, the French girl, occasionally, and she was always in her corner, tucked into herself so tightly it was as if she was trying to disappear. He didn't know what memory that cup sparked, but his pity for the girl only grew after it, and once the mayor had heard the story, her cruelty, too, seemed to ignite.

xx

Just wanted to write a little something for Once Upon a Time, my new found addiction. I am, of course, caught up in the Belle/Rumpelstiltskin relationship.

Hope you liked this little drabble, hopefully more to come since I can't seem to get Belle off my mind.

-Reels