Author's Note: I do not own Once Upon a Time. Also, this is my first story. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but completely bashing my work is not. I hope you enjoy it!
She saw the young boy run out into the street before his father did. She watched the truck slam on its brakes to avoid the child as she ran forward, faster than she ever had before. She slammed into him and wrapped her arms around him as they fell toward the pavement. A scream was torn from her mouth as she felt pain in her knees and arms where she had roughly scraped them against the asphalt.
The driver got out, and cursed. "I can't believe I almost ran over the child I was supposed to kidnap."
"What?" she questioned in shock, and the boy's eyes grew huge with fear. The man responded by trying to pull him out of his savior's arms, but she refused to let go. She refused to let a child be kidnapped. However, the truck driver only had a minute, if that, before someone would be there to stop him, so he picked her up and flung her and the boy into the passenger seat. He got in and sped off, narrowly missing hitting the father and other pedestrians who had run into the road to make sure they were okay.
"I guess I've got two prisoners instead of one. It makes no difference to me. In fact, I might even get more money for this." He chuckled cruelly, but only succeeded in making the little boy start crying. "Shut up," he bellowed, and when that got him nowhere except a stern glare from the tag along, he decided he was far enough away from the scene of the crime. He pulled over, and picked them both up, throwing them into the back of the moving truck before continuing on his way.
The woman just breathed for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say to him as the young boy sobbed in her arms. Finally, she realized she had to say something. "Shh, it'll be okay," she soothed, and let him continue to soak her tee shirt with his tears.
The boy looked up at her, his eyes still wet. "Are you sure? But you're hurt," he pointed out to her. She inspected her forearms and knees more closely, realizing she had nearly scraped the skin off everything that had touched the road. She was bleeding, and her injuries hurt her quite a bit, but she was glad it hadn't been worse. At least she hadn't been run over.
"Don't worry, my injuries aren't too bad," she reassured him. "and, I'm sure your father is looking for us, and mine will be soon," she informed him, and the little boy giggled at the thought of a grown woman having a father, but it soon turned back into tears. "It'll be okay, they'll rescue us." She hugged him closer, and tried to think of ways her father had tried to calm her down when she was younger. She hadn't had much experience with children, so all she had to go on was the example he had set with her, which thankfully was an extremely good one. She remembered him calling her by name a lot when she was upset, and that had always helped a little. "What's your name?" she asked.
He was able to stop the catches in his breath long enough to say, "Baden," before succumbing to them again.
"Well Baden, I'm Belle, and it's very nice to meet you, even if it is under such circumstances." He looked up at her, and the hiccups in his breathing stopped, even though tear drops continued to flow down his face.
"No, you're Miss Belle. Papa always says to either call grownups miss or mister. Some girls are called misses, but that always confuses me. Anyways, I have to be polite and call you Miss Belle, unless I should call you Misses Belle?"
"It's just miss," She told Baden, who was staring at her sternly for not having manners, a situation she would have found hilariously adorable had she not recently been kidnapped. "I'm not married."
"Oh," the little boy exclaimed as he realized the difference. "But what do you call boys who aren't married?"
"Boys are called mister whether or not they are married."
Baden scrunched up his face, trying to understand the logic behind that, but he soon gave up. "That doesn't make any sense."
Belle chuckled slightly. "I know. That's just the way the world is sometimes." The young boy nodded, and then yawned. His father had just been taking him home from dinner, and it was almost his bedtime. The late hour plus the emotional stress put on him left Baden exhausted. "I think it's time to sleep," she told him, only for him to shake his head violently.
"No. I can't sleep now, or I'll have nightmares and Daddy won't be here to chase them away." The fear in his eyes melted Belle's heart, but she knew he would need his rest for the trials of the next day.
"Alright, well, let's start with a bedtime story, and see what happens from there." He nodded, and snuggled in closer to her, half expecting her to pull a book out of thin air. However, Belle was an aspiring author, and as such, she was capable of making up her own story.
"This is the story of the Dream Catchers," she informed him. "They are warriors, who fight nightmares and take them out of children's heads, locking them up. However, that is only half of their job. They also hunt down the good dreams, and lead them into the minds of those who need them …"
Soon Baden was asleep, safe in the knowledge that the Dream Catchers would protect him. As Belle drifted off to join the young boy sleeping on her lap, she wondered why she had so little interaction with kids before.
Robert Gold, father of Baden Gold, almost instantly regretted his decision to let Bae prove he was a big boy who could stay near his papa without holding his hand. He vowed never to make the same mistake again, if he was ever given the chance to try again. After his son's kidnapping, he had been forced to talk with several officers about any possible suspects for the kidnapping. Honestly, the whole thing had gone by in a blur for him, but now he was at the door to his house, three hours after the event.
It was only now that he was away from everyone that he broke down crying. His son, his dear Bae, had been ripped from him, and he couldn't stop it. He could do nothing but feel weak and guilty. How dare he go home and rest when Bae was in trouble, being threatened by some scary goon? How dare he sleep in a warm, comfy bed when all his son would get was a metal floor? No, he could not rest until his son was back in his arms.
He unlocked the door to his house and went over to his computer. He started to pour over every file of his employees and customers alike, marking everyone who might have a problem with the owner of Golden Fabrics. He sat, armed only with determination, a pen, and coffee as he scribbled suspects' names on a piece of paper, underlining the more likely ones. The sooner he found the culprit, the sooner his son would be safe.