A/N: Hi again! I didn't really know what to do with my idea for this at first, but then I watched the movie again and my creative juices finally started flowing again! Yes! *pumps fist*. Now, if only I could use those juices for my other stories...

Please review! Reviews make my day! I LOVE them!

Belle had told me about Gaston once. She hadn't mentioned him by name, but she'd described him to me; the way he'd flirt with her, get in her way, pin her against the wall... she had shuddered with revulsion just by talking about him. I know that that's when I'd started hating him, despising him for preying on her so, but seeing him up close like this, attacking my home, my servants, my friends... it was all I could do to keep myself from strangling him right then and there. That rotten piece of filth, treating Belle like an object, hurting the people I cared about, not to mention trying to kill me... who did he think he was? The king of France? Did he honestly believe that he could ever get away with something like this?

"Let me go! Please, I'll do anything!" he sniveled, thrashing in my grip. Snarling, I tightened my large paw around his throat, making him gasp as his oxygen supply was cut off. Die! Just die! I wanted to scream at him, to shake him, and then to let go and watch him fall to his death. Served him right, for making my life and the lives of the people I loved a living Hell. He had no right to be here! And I would make that very clear to him.

But then, I looked at his face.

His eyes were wide, and quivering with fear, tears streaming out of them and staining his cheeks. Sweat poured down his forehead in rivers, making his skin slick and shiny. He was trembling violently, his entire body spasming with wicked convulsions, and his breath came out at wheezing, irregular intervals.

The man was absolutely terrified.

Right then, I had a painful recollection of Maurice, backing away from me, scared out of his wits, and begging me to have mercy on him, to let him stay for shelter. That same expression was on his face. And then, Belle, on the ground, shaking like a leaf, and crying her eyes out as she pleaded with me to allow her to take her father's place in the dungeon. Cogsworth, Lumiere, Mrs. Potts, Chip, every time I lost my temper with any one of them, yelled at them, or threatened them in any way whatsoever. I saw every person I'd ever hurt, every life that I'd chosen to snuff out... all in that one man's face.

If I killed him, what would I accomplish? Belle had changed me for the better, made me less cruel, and selfish, and tempermental. Wouldn't taking this man's life simply cause me to backslide? Wouldn't I fall back into that pit that she'd pulled me out of? I had gone down that road once before; I had taken lives, and torn people's souls to pieces. But that was before she came. That was before I'd tried to change my ways. And as much as I wanted to kill Gaston – and goodness knows that he deserved it – I couldn't go down that road a second time. I had done so once. Never again. That just wasn't me anymore.

Relaxing my grip on him just enough to restore his air supply, I pulled the man back to safety and set him down (none too gently) on the ledge. He collapsed into a heap, coughing and gasping. Looking down at him with disdain, I narrowed my eyes, bared my teeth, and quickly swallowed my hatred. This time, I would do the right thing. Just because I looked like a monster didn't mean that I had to act like one. I understood that now, and I would not stoop to his level. Glaring down at the dirtbag of a man sprawled at my feet, I balled my hands into fists and growled, "Get out."

With that, I turned away. I had more important things to attend to.

Whaddaya think? It's pretty short, I know, but it was a really interesting one to write up. I really like picking through antihero's heads to figure out what they're thinking, don't you?

Again, reviews are greatly appreciated.