Belle ran through the field, feeling the green grass tickle her ankles as she fled. She dropped to her knees when she reached the end of the meadow, her gaze falling upon the stream winding below, flowing this way and that into the distant horizon. She struggled to catch her breath as the afternoon's events replayed in her mind on a continuous loop: Gaston, the handsome, arrogant, and vain hunter who had set his sight on Belle as his next prey, had orchestrated a grand public wedding in her yard while her father was away, much to her shock and disgust.
"What did he expect?" Belle spat. Had Gaston, in all his pride and foolishness, truly expected her to leap at the opportunity to be his little wife? She wasn't ready to settle down, period, let alone with Gaston of all people. No sir. Not her.
Sure, he was handsome and rugged. Yes, everyone in town-especially the women- admired and adored him. And okay, she would have a very comfortable home with him. But could he relate to her favorite novels? Could he sit in a meadow with her and discuss Rousseau and other philosophers for hours? Could he love and respect her for her mind rather than the exceptional beauty she was usually valued for?
She doubted it.
Belle sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the light breeze brush her face and flow through her brown hair. Her life was lovely: she had a comfortable home, a loving father, all the books she could ever want thanks to a kind bookstore owner, and everyone in the village was in agreement that she was the most beautiful girl in town. All Belle had to do was snap her fingers and she could have any man in town for her husband.
But no one interested her. No one had she had come across in the village stimulated her mind the way her beloved authors and philosophers did. Not that she thought herself above the townspeople; rather, she fancied herself simply different, as did everyone else.
Thus, she found solace in books. Between the pages of novels Belle found company- friendship, conversation, romance, adventure. But it wasn't enough. She longed to sprout wings and fly far from her little town: to see the pyramids of Egypt, to walk amongst the ruins of Greece, to travel across the vast waters to England. To live.
A gust of air and an unfamiliar whirring sound- not the same as the gizmos her eccentric father dreamed up- interrupting her dreams of adventure. When Belle opened her hazel eyes, an unfamiliar object was settled in the meadow before her, looking at once so out of place yet as if it belonged among the green grass. It was a large, wooden blue box with words printed on the side: POLICE BOX.
While most young women Belle knew would have cowered and ran for the protection of a strong man like Gaston, Belle's curiosity and thirst for knowledge overtook any sense of fear. She rose to her feet and cautiously approached the box, trying to comprehend its sudden appearance. Her slender fingers rested on the cool, hard wood and she traced its edges slowly. She made her way around the box, eyeing it with fascination, until she found a door. A moment's hesitation prevented her from knocking. Was she going mad? The box's presence was completely illogical. And yet… here it was, at her fingertips. But… what could be inside? Some sort of magical creature, no doubt. Maybe a mad fairy or a wicked witch.
Belle chuckled in spite of herself. Fairies? Witches? Despite her passion for fantastic stories of magic and adventure, she had never truly believed in such things; they were simply fun tales. They couldn't possibly be real. But, on the same token, this box couldn't be real, either. With its mysterious appearance, Belle couldn't help but wonder what endless possibilities could have brought it here.
Thrusting all hesitations behind her, Belle turned her attention back to the door. She could stand here all afternoon, wondering what could be inside, or she could do the logical thing and open that door.
Taking a deep breath and brushing a stray hair from her eyes, Belle extended her trembling hand towards the door handle before she lost her nerve, trying to prepare herself for whatever was inside this box. Before she could fully build up her courage, however, the door flew open, causing her to jump back a step in shock, a step that caused her to stumble over a rock and land on her rear end.
"Hello there! Oh bother, are you alright? Come now, up, up. There's a good girl."
Numbly, Belle allowed herself to be helped up to her feet by the mysterious stranger from the mysterious box.
"Well bonjour, mademoiselle," the stranger said a broad grin spreading across his face.
Belle cleared her throat. "Hello," she replied. "Pardon my rudeness, but, who exactly are you?"
The stranger cocked his head to the side. "Who am I? Who am I?"
"Oui monsieur," Belle insisted.
"Why, I'm the Doctor."
"The Doctor?" she repeated curiously.
"Oui."
Belle stared at this strange man, taking in his appearance: his pointy brown hair, his thin-rimmed glasses, the matching brown pants and jacket he wore, and his curious bright red shoes with white tips. He was nothing like anyone she had ever seen in town.
The Doctor buried his hands in his pants' pockets and purposely strolled forward past a frozen Belle, wrinkling his nose. "Ah, colonial France. Very nice, very quaint. You've got a few more years of this, best enjoy it while it lasts. Can't keep the masses down for long, told those noble friends of mine, but they never listen, do they? Anywho, thought I'd take a lovely little holiday before it all hits the fan, see what there is to see, whatnot. So, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you kindly point me to the village so I may roam about?"
Quickly recovering from her shock, Belle pointed in the direction he desired. "Across the meadow, over the bridge you find, and follow the dirt road that curves to your left." She'd made that walk almost every day of her eighteen years; she knew it as well as any of her books.
"Hmm. Sounds a tad complicated." He held his arm out to Belle. "Show me the way, mademoiselle? Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to ask your name!"
"Belle. My name is Belle," said she, taking his arm.
The Doctor smiled. "Belle. I don't believe any name has ever fit someone so well. Well perhaps one person…" He stared off into the distance, lost in his memories. Just as suddenly, he was back to attention. "Onward to the village!"
As the two began their stroll, Belle stared at him curiously. "If you don't mind me asking," she began hesitantly, "where are you from?"
"Well." The Doctor smiled as the small bridge came into view. "I am from another world, quite unlike your own, and I travel in my TARDIS- that's the blue box I climbed out of earlier- and visit anywhere I want in time or space." The duo arrived at the bridge. "You must think I'm mad," he supposed.
Surprisingly, Belle shook her head. "Not at all," she confessed. "Truthfully, you sound wonderful."
The Doctor chuckled as they crossed the bridge. "Wonderful, eh? And why, Miss Belle, do you find me wonderful and not wacky?"
"I don't like to call people crazy or insane," the young woman began, speaking slowly. "My father is an inventor, and he's an absolute genius. But everyone in town thinks he's crazy." After a moment she added, "He's not."
The Doctor stared at her thoughtfully. "They look at you differently too, don't they?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "I read a lot," she explained. "And I dream of adventure and far-off lands and exciting people. Every other girl in town just dreams of a strong, handsome husband to take care of her."
"But you want true romance and love and companionship, don't you Belle?"
"Oh yes," Belle breathes, the village growing closer. "There's a man in town who has asked me to marry him, but-"
"Belle."
Standing before the two was a mountain of a man, his black hair pulled into a ponytail and large boots covering his usually stomping feet. Gaston gazed down at them the way a hawk eyes its defenseless prey.
"Good afternoon Gaston," Belle murmured, subconsciously tightening her grasp on the Doctor's arm as she looked to the ground.
Gaston's focus shifted to the Doctor, taking in his strange clothes and lanky figure, and finally the way he smiled childishly as Belle clung to him. "And who would this be?"
Before Belle could answer, the Doctor stretched out a friendly hand, not registering the scowl on Gaston's face. "Ah, yes. I'm the Doctor. Lovely to meet you. Belle was just showing me the village." His smile didn't fade as Gaston ignored his hand. "Right then, if you'll excuse us, I see a bakery over there and I skipped lunch. Come along, Mademoiselle Belle." His eyes danced between Belle and Gaston as he chuckled to himself. "Mademoiselle Belle. Oh, I like that." He tugged Belle's arm towards the bakery. "Allons-y, Mademoiselle Belle!"
Belle glanced back at Gaston, who stared after them with fire in his eyes. She turned to the Doctor, who was excitedly chattering about how good the bread smelled. "Doctor?"
"Hmm?"
"Remember I told you a man asked for my hand?"
"Mmm hmm," he replied absently.
Belle took a deep breath. "Well, that actually happened today. And it was Gaston who asked." The words came out in a jumble, but the Doctor caught every word she blurted out.
"Ah." After a long moment, the Doctor said, "That might explain why he wouldn't shake my hand. Oh well. Now then, what shall we get?" He nodded towards the cart full of breads and pastries.
"Um… the baguettes here are excellent here," she murmured. Belle looked back again, watching Gaston sulk into the tavern, his favorite place in town. She sighed with relief and turned back to the Doctor. "Marie makes them fresh every morning. Oh, and the croissants are delicious too…"
Less than an hour later, the Doctor smiled as he took another piece from the dwindling baguette in Belle's hand. He looked down at her as she talked while they strolled along.
"… and she doesn't realize it's him until chapter three!" Her eyes lit up with excitement.
"Oi! Thanks for the spoiler!" The Doctor shouted.
Belle smiled and shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's just my favorite book. I've read it twice already," she admitted with a shrug.
The Doctor cocked his head curiously. "Twice, really? What about it do you love so much?"
A dreamy expression crossed Belle's beautiful face. "What don't I love? Far-off places, daring swordfights, a prince in disguise!" She handed the Doctor the last of the baguette. "That's why I love books, I guess. I don't get much adventure around here. But in between the pages of books, I can go anywhere and be anyone. When I read I get to travel through time and all over the world and meet amazing people who inspire me. I love going to these worlds outside my own."
There was no response from the Doctor. Instead, he grabbed Belle's hand and smiled at her. He turned and ran through the town, a laughing Belle in tow. Not caring about the strange and curious looks from everyone around them- as both were used to such looks- the two twisted and turned their way down the streets of town and back down the dirt path, over the bridge, and across the meadow. Breathless, they arrived at the TARDIS.
"Come with me," the Doctor choked out between gasps.
Belle blinked at him. "Pardon?"
He smiled, grasping both her hands in his. "Come away with me," he repeated. "You want far-off places? I can show you those. We can go to a planet all the way across the galaxy. We can visit ancient India. We can meet Plato in Athens. We can see France a thousand years from this moment." He looked into her eyes, excitement covering his handsome features. "And I can have you back in time for supper."
"Oh, Doctor, I don't know." Belle bit her lip, looking down.
"Madamoiselle." The Doctor lifted her chin. "I understand. It's madness. There's danger- real danger- involved. I'm afraid I can't guarantee your safety. But I can swear to you that you will have the experience of a lifetime. You will make amazing memories. Belle, you can have your own adventure unlike anything you've ever imagined."
Belle looked in the direction of the village. The village was the same as it was yesterday, or last week, or even last year. And surely it would be the same when she returned. She turned to the Doctor, taking a deep breath.
"Allons-y, monsieur Doctor!"