Neal Cassady was a man of simple tastes, all he required from temporary lodgings were a bed and a Do Not Disturb sign. He couldn't even begin to count all the cheap motel rooms he had slept in over the years. Granny's Inn was a world apart from those digs. Sure, the accommodations were several thousand leagues nicer than the dumps of his past- but the coziness of the room was a shock to his system. Hand-stitched quilts and crocheted doilies were things he sometimes saw on TV- the atmosphere of this place was too much.
It wasn't just the room, the whole town was too perfect, too picturesque. As a former con artist he knew how deceiving looks could be, though. There was definitely something off about Storybrooke, the air seemed charged with an undefinable something. Something vaguely familiar that made Neal's skin prickle- like a half forgotten memory from an old nightmare.
He glanced at the vintage alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 1:45. By small town standards he knew it was late, but if he was in New York there would be somewhere to go or something to do besides count the eyelets on his ruffled bedskirt. His mind was too full for sleep, and if he didn't find a distraction he would be forced to think about Emma and August. He regretted his deal with that man for nearly eleven years. It's wrong to leave someone you love, even if you believe it's for their own good. He should have fought for Emma, he should have stayed by her side. He should have-
A piercing scream brought him out of his reverie. His first instinct was to check the lock on his door, life in NYC taught him that, but he wasn't in the Big Apple. He was in Storybrooke, so instead he found himself walking out into the hall and searching for the source of the noise. The screaming had stopped, but he could hear stifled sobbing coming from two doors down. Without any real thought he found himself tapping on the door. The crying slowed down and a few moments later the door opened. A beautiful woman with chestnut curls and wet blue eyes greeted him.
"I'm so sorry. I- I really didn't mean to disturb you. It's just that I have nightmares sometimes and when I do- Did I wake you?" She was dressed in flannel pajamas and half stammering. Something about her made Neal want to smile.
"Don't worry about it, I couldn't sleep anyway. Are you okay?" Neal watched as the woman's posture began to relax. She returned his smile.
"I'm fine, you must think I'm some kind of baby to scream out like that. Would you care to join me for a cup of tea? Granny and Ruby won't mind if I raid their kitchen for some chamomile."
Chamomile tea ranked somewhere along the bottom of his list of favorite beverages, but he soon found himself sitting in his room with a steaming mug and a stranger.
The woman took a quick sip and shyly introduced herself. "I'm Belle, I should have said that earlier."
"I'm Neal. Neal Cassady."
Belle choked on a mouthful of tea as she extended her right hand.
"Is something wrong?" Neal asked frowning at Belle's cough.
"It's just Neal Cassady is a name from literature. He was the inspiration for a character from Kerouac's On the Road." Blushing, Belle continued. "I'm the town librarian and I have a tendency to blurt out literary trivia when I come across it."
Neal nodded taking in Belle's embarrassment. " I know. That's why, I chose it. I've spent a big chunk of my life avoiding responsibility so I took a name that embodied the lifestyle." He paused. "What about you? Everyone here comes from a fairy tale right? Are you THAT Belle?"
Belle smiled. "The story is a bit more complicated than what the books say. But yes, I was the beauty that fell in love with a beast."
"Why aren't you together then? Why are you living in a bed and breakfast?" Neal stared into tea cup, suddenly nervous about how she might answer.
"I don't actually live here. I have an apartment above the library, but for the time being it's safer for me here. You aren't the only new arrival in Storybrooke. And as for 'the beast' he's my True Love, but we've decided to take things slow. I came to him as an unpaid servant, them I was locked in a dungeon by an evil queen. I spent the twenty eight years of the curse locked away in a padded cell." Belle broke off for a moment, but continued keeping a firm voice. "When the curse broke I promised myself that I would become an independent woman."
"And your beast?" Love mystified Neal, he wondered how much it could survive and if it guaranteed forgiveness.
"I'm in love with a man that sees himself as a monster, and he uses that image as an excuse to make bad decisions and push people away. But he loves me enough to give me space and learn how to be myself. We're taking things slowly with hamburger dates... It's kind of hard to explain. "She shook her head and gave Neal a small smile. "I've told you my story. Now tell me yours. You said you've changed your name?"
Neil shrugged, "I was a teenager and all alone in the world. I figured that if I had to look after myself I would. It was going to be me and only me. On the Road was my guide book through a few years of petty crime and parties."
"But someone made you change?" Belle prompted.
"I didn't say that." Neal glanced up at her sharply.
"You didn't have to. The person you described isn't the person that's been keeping me company."
Neal found himself staring into Belle's clear blue eyes. In spite of himself he told her about Emma and the Bug. He told her about Tallahassee and the watches. He even told her about August and the box that made him a believer. Neal told Belle about hiding out in Canada and settling New York, then he finally told her about the dove and the postcard.
"Keep your chin up, Neal. Love is hope. And believe me, there is so much more to your story than you realize-" Belle paused. "Thank you for staying up with me. I have such a hard time getting back to sleep when I dream."
"Can I ask what you dream about?" Neal was grateful that she shifted the conversation away from his personal life.
"White plain walls, and the cold-it's always cold in the dream." Belle laughed nervously. "As far as nightmares go that sounds really boring. It was boring when it wasn't a nightmare. Endless days of white and gray and silence. I didn't know who I was, I didn't even have a fake identity like the rest of town. It was literally nothing, and when it all comes back to me it's overwhelming. It's terrifying really."
Neal stood up suddenly and crossed the room to the bay window overlooking the town-square. "This is a dream catcher," he said removing a yellow feathered object from its place of honor. "The Native Americans believed dream catchers ensnare nightmares. Would you like to borrow it? It's always worked for me."
Belle didn't make a move to take the dream catcher, instead she stared fixedly at Neal's hands. "Emma gave that to you didn't she?"
Neal nodded absentmindedly and toyed with one of the feathers. "How did you know that."
Belle blushed slightly but maintained eye contact. "The way your holding it. It's precious to you. It's your chipped cup... And the look on your face, it reminds me so much of-"
"My chipped cup? I'm not following you."
Belle gathered the tea things. "You should talk to Henry Mills. He's a young boy with a very special book. If you're going to be staying here you should read our stories. The true ones."
"I don't understand."
Belle's smile was radiant. "I think I might be able to go back to sleep." she paused. "Thank you, Neal, for keeping me company. And I have a feeling things will work out for you. I really do."
Neal watched Belle leave his room, slightly unnerved by her lingering optimism. The librarian was a funny girl, but he hoped against hope that she would be right. He fell asleep mulling over some of what she told him, his last cognizant thoughts about a book of fairy tales and a boy named Henry.