This is just something I came up with. I'm sure it's been done before, but I'm adding my two cents into this train of thought. Unrelated to my other Beauty and the Beast stories, probably a result of what happens when I watch too many drama/crime shows!
Beast's POV
"Beast!" he heard her call and turned to see her standing on the balcony of the West Wing. Her hair mussed and clearly catching her breath, the Beast felt his eyes widen and his heart beat faster at the sight of her. She had come back to him. As quickly as he dared, he climbed up to her, reaching out to capture her outstretched hand.
"I'm so sorry, it's all my fault this happened! I didn't mean to. . ."
"You came back," he interrupted, grinning at her. He wasn't even sure what she was talking about, but nothing else mattered now that she was with him again. But a searing pain in his back marred their reunion, sending him into blinding agony. He roared, swiping at whatever had caused him such pain, but he could not reach it. He felt Belle's hands draw him forwards and he followed her lead as best he was able over the low stone wall and onto the balcony. His legs could not hold him, however. How strange it was to have so little strength in his body. He could hardly even feel his fingers. But he could feel Belle's hands on his face as he lay on the stone and he opened his eyes to see tears flowing from her beautiful brown eyes. Why was she crying? Was it because he had fallen? He tried to move and found that he couldn't, found that the pain it caused him was overwhelming, making him gasp for breath.
"Oh, Beast," she whispered, caressing his face with her delicate hands.
"Belle," he said, hearing his own voice weak and feeble as he raised one paw to cup her cheek. But before he could reach her, she suddenly disappeared from view. "Belle?" he tried to find her, but could not make his head move.
"Beast!" she screamed. Something was wrong. "Beast, no!" Her screams were ones of terror, but the Beast could not make sense of it, could not move, indeed could not even keep his eyes open. Belle was in trouble, but he could not make his body listen to his mind. He could not save her.
Belle's POV
She struggled against Gaston's arm that he had wrapped around her waist, but it was impossible to break his hold. Her Beast needed her; he was hurt, probably dying. She had to be with him. But Gaston had caught her around her waist and forced her away from her wounded Beast. She had no doubt this would not be good, wherever he was taking her, but her thoughts could only remain with the Beast, watching him as he lay on the balcony for as long as she could, willing him to move even a little to give her some hope he might be all right. But there was nothing, and soon the Beast was out of sight as Gaston neared the doors of the West Wing.
Just before Gaston forced her past the doors, she noticed the glint of glass and her eyes widened as she noticed Cogsworth hiding behind the doors with Mrs. Potts and Lumiere.
"Keep my father here," she whispered desperately. "Keep him safe." She knew wherever Gaston was taking her, he would try to force her to marry him again. She would not allow Papa to be hurt by Gaston's foolishness if he chose to make her father a pawn in his plan again. She didn't see if they nodded or not, but she knew they would do their best.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded of the brute who all but dragged her through the castle and away from her Beast. Now that her Beast was out of sight, Belle had nothing to focus on but whatever fate Gaston had planned for her.
"Back to the village," he replied, his voice filled with triumph and he tightened his grip around her as if to assure him of his victory. "Soon you'll forget that monster."
"No!" she all but shouted and struggled anew against his grip. "He'll come for me, and when he does, he will kill you!"
"Your monster is dead," Gaston laughed. "And you're mine now."
"Never!" she spat and began to strike him, anywhere she could reach; his head, his stomach, his arms, anywhere. But she might as well have been hitting stone for all the good it did her. Her Beast would save her from this; he would recover, and they would be together.
Gaston dragged her through the entrance hall, passed broken bits of furniture and unconscious men left from the battle that had raged in the castle earlier. The servants, her friends, had won the day, but Gaston still was able to find and harm the Beast. But the Beast wasn't dead; she refused to believe he could be killed by so wicked a creature as Gaston. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would never be Gaston's, that she would return to the castle and to her Beast. But when Gaston tossed her onto his massive, wicked horse like a sack of flour, she began to panic, her heart beating wildly in her chest that not everything would work out.
As Gaston prepared to vault into the saddle behind her, Belle took her chance and slid from the saddle, running for all her worth towards the castle. If she could just get behind a door, any door, perhaps even back to her Beast, she might keep Gaston from taking her. But she never made it even as far as the front doors before she felt Gaston's cold grip around her arm.
"No!" the scream escaped her before she could stop herself and tried to pry his fingers off of her.
"Easy, Belle," he said calmly. "You're just confused. The monster can't keep you here any more. I'm taking you home."
"Let me go!" she screamed, pulling at him. His words were nonsense. This was her home, with her Beast.
"This is for your own good, Belle," he said, his voice evidence of his impatience. He drew his free hand back and Belle flinched, but it did no good. Gaston's hand came down on her hard, sending her into darkness.
