He straightens up, breathing heavily, feeling the sweat make its way down his forehead. He sits, waiting till the cascade of his heartbeat slows down and the blood stops roaring in his ears. He lowers his feet to the floor and winces as they meet with cold marble. The moon illuminates the West Wing which at this moment makes it look as if it was under the curse again. Or is it him, still so shaken up after the dream he's just had, that causes his mind to imagine things from the past?
He walks closer to the window looking out to the garden now all lit up by the moonlight. He sits in the armchair, her favorite, the one she sits in every day to read stories by Shakespeare, Blake, Moliére or any other book that fell into her hands. The corners of his mouth rise as he picks up a copy of Romeo and Juliet lying under a used tea cup. His eyes move to a small figure curled up on the bed. He exhales with relief. She is here. She loves him. She said so herself, many times. She came back. She is here. So why does this nightmare, the same horrible dream, keep recurring?
He rubs his forehead trying to clear his head and relax, though it seems like nothing could possibly calm his mind. He hears the bed covers shuffling slightly and a moment later hears silent footsteps coming closer to him.
"I told you to wake me when it happens." she whispers huskily, shaking her head slightly, as though she knows that no matter how many times she has told him, he'll never do that. She sits on his lap and begins to gently stroke his cheek. Her golden brown hair is braided into a crown on top of her head, her eyes shine with that same gleam that always manages to make him feel at peace. Her lips form a delicate smile, always full of hope, always ready to save him from whatever is troubling his soul. He looks at her in complete awe and wonders, how on Earth could he be that lucky?
"What was it this time?" she encourages him to speak.
He sighs and looks away, staring blankly at the garden again.
"Hey." she cups her hands around his chin and turns it so it faces her. "Please, tell me."
"It was the same one again. The one I keep having over and over." he starts talking, trying his best to stop the shaking in his voice. "I dream about that night..." he swallows. "That night when I transformed back into a human. But in the dream it's different. The other way round. It's you who gets shot." his breathing gets faster. "It's me who is kneeling beside you. But no words can bring you back to life. No love confession." he blinks as his sight gets foggy. "Nothing works, because you were never cursed. You are gone."
She wraps her arms around his neck and holds him. He can smell the delicate mix of roses and parchment, the smell that always surrounds only her. He would recognize it anywhere. He listens to the steady beats of her heart, the calming melody he knows by heart.
"Hear it?" she whispers. "I'm alive. I'm here. And I'm with you." she takes his face in her hands and directs it so he is looking right into her eyes. "Pour toujours. Forevermore."
"I know it's hard to break free of the past." she continues. He knows well she experiences it herself. Some nights it is her who wakes up screaming that her mother just died in her arms and she couldn't do anything.
"But if you only have a little bit of courage and remember that I'm always right here, it will go away." she brushes a strand of hair away from his forehead. "I promise you this, Adam."
Her words were like poetry. Although he has asked her this question rhetorically many times, he really wondered how it was possible that he deserved the love she was giving him every day. That she chose him.
"What do you say to that?" she smiles.
"I love you, Belle." he couldn't take her eyes off her. "I love you so much."
"That's good, because I love you too. So much." she answered and leaned over to kiss him.
As they lay in bed, holding each other tightly, he felt an overwhelming feeling of relief spreading through all his limbs. As long as he had her, all his fears didn't matter. All the nightmares, flashbacks, or hard time adjusting to what seemed like basic human abilities, at that very moment he was willing to accept that. His courage lay right next to him, her hand woven into his. Armed like this, he was ready for anything.