A/N: Hey guys! I ended up writing a lot today so I'm able to update tonight! Before you start reading, I have to warn you that there is a little bit (leeeeetle bit) of torture in this. In case any of you are sensitive to that kind of thing, I wanted to warn you before you started reading it. Despite the darkness of this, I hope you like this next chapter!
"Belle…Belle, I'm here,"
The words echoed dimly in the small space, shocking the librarian out of her tears enough to look up.
"Rumple?" her throat felt scratched and sore. "Where are you?"
It was his voice; she knew it was…but how? Her eyes scanned the bookshelves, front desk, and tables…and there was no sign of him. Had he found a way to contact her from Neverland? Was such a connection possible- even if Rumple had used magic?
The part of her that felt so sure she had heard him was sharply reminded of how frequently such a thing occurred when she had been locked up in the queen's tower. She closed her eyes tightly, recalling with nauseating vividness how she woke in the dead of night surrounded by cold stone walls and starlight. She would lie there, gasping for breath while listening to her own echoes that called out his name over and over only moments before she woke, thinking- no, sure- he was calling to her as well.
A shadow of doubt fell like a heavy curtain on the light that gave her hope. Perhaps this time was imaginary as well…brought on by lonesomeness and her father's angry words. Despite this, curiosity stirred within her. It made her want to question the logic that she grasped like a lifeline holding her over an endless abyss. If she let that logic go…even for a moment, she could plummet…or her hope would be rewarded, and she wouldn't be left dangling so far into the darkness.
Belle stood, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and adjusting her pleated skirt and sleeveless, white dress shirt. After missing him so much, she couldn't handle the idea of Rumple's voice coming out of thin air- not after her what father said. One thing at a time…she had to find her father first and find out what was going on.
Before she left, she went around the shelves and picked out several books: Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie, a Brother's Grimm collection, and a copy of Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve's Beauty and the Beast. She fervently wished Henry was there so she could borrow his Once Upon a Time, but these ones would have to do.
She piled the three books into her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder before heading out into the blinding daylight.
Her first stop was her father's flower shop. Though she was still upset with him, she needed to figure out what was going on- especially if it had something to do with a plot to kill Rumplestilskin. As her high-tops pounded the pavement, Belle paid scant attention to others walking alongside her. So lost in thought was she that her shoulder bumped into a tall, older man, knocking her bag off of her arm and onto the ground.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" The librarian sputtered as she picked up her bag. Her guilt increased when she noticed the man was a grey-haired cleric, dressed in a solid black robe with a silver cross hanging from his neck.
"No matter, my child," he nodded solemnly at her before narrowing his eyes and pausing. "Would you be Belle French?"
"I- um, yes," Belle answered hesitantly, instantly on edge from the way the man was staring at her. "Please excuse me," she said as she smiled tentatively, trying to inch past him, "I'm on my way to see my father- he'll worry if I'm not-"
"Your father is at the monastery, Miss French," the cleric interjected, his grey eyes flashing. "I was on an errand to retrieve you. Your father is very concerned about your well-being. Will you come with me?"
Belle swallowed, her throat feeling tight. The idea of this being some sort of trap was a very real possibility…but at the same time…perhaps this was the best way to convince her father that she really was all right. She gripped her bag tightly.
"I'll go with you," she agreed, her stomach in knots as she followed the cleric to the monastery.
The walk there had been silent, save for the birdsong in the bright blue sky and the warm wind twisting through trees' branches.
When they finally arrived at the monastery, the cleric pushed open a tall, oaken door and, once inside, gestured for her to follow.
The inside was lit well, thanks to the large Gothic windows through which sunlight flowed in vast streaks. Belle nervously hitched the bag up further onto her shoulder. The beauty of the space didn't make her feel any more at ease than the grandeur of Regina's palace when she was taken there to be imprisoned.
"Belle!" her attention sharply turned from the monastery's edifice to her father who stood at the other end of the hall. He swiftly walked up to her and embraced her. "My girl, I didn't think you would come."
"What's this about, Father?" Belle asked, now severely puzzled, though she returned his hug before pulling away slowly. "I don't understand what's going on."
"I told the clerics about what happened with you and the Dark One," he said, grasping onto her hands, "and they agreed to help."
"Help with what?" Belle asked, exasperated she wrenched her hands out of her father's. "Papa, I've told you, there's nothing wrong with me!"
"We feared she say as much," the tall, grey-haired cleric who had walked with her appeared next to her, along with another, shorter, brown-haired, younger cleric. "Those under possession are quick to defend the wicked."
"And you can help her?" Maurice beseeched them while Belle felt her heart beat quicken. At the moment, she felt herself a sparrow in a chimney. She could go up or she could go down, but either way she would come out a mess.
"Most definitely," the grey-haired cleric nodded. "However," he peered down at Belle, "extreme measures will need to be taken. Do you agree to them?"
"Yes! I just want my Belle back," Maurice insisted.
"No!" Belle said angrily. If she ran now, she could get to the safety of the library and lock the door. "Father- what are you saying?" As she backed away, she ran into the younger cleric who grabbed hold of her arms. "Let go of me!" She tried tugging away, but to no avail.
"This is for your own good, darling," Maurice said as the cleric began dragging her away.
"Where are you taking me? Let me go!" Belle said as she fought against the grip of the cleric, only to be grabbed by the older cleric's knotted hands as well.
"You must be taken away from society for a while," the younger cleric said, his voice steady despite Belle's constant struggling. They led her down a dark, stone hallway reminding Belle all too much of what she was about to endure.
"I was locked away for twenty-eight years- and now you want to lock me away for even longer?!" Belle yelled, hoping her words reached her father and stung him as much as tears now stung her eyes. Together, they descended a set of stairs and walked down another stone corridor until they came to a room at the far end. The elder cleric unlocked the door and opened it, the younger one walking her inside, despite her wriggling.
"This is the only way for you, my dear," the elderly cleric said. His grey eyes were the last thing Belle saw before the door was shut and a metal locking sound was heard.
The room was bare and made entirely of stone, giving it an old, musty smell. The only light came from two flickering candles held in sconces on the walls.
Belle took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself not to succumb to the gravity of the situation. It wasn't nearly so serious as when Regina locked her up. This time, she had her wits about her, she knew where she was and…before her breath could quicken in panic, her hand traveled down to her bag.
Her books…she had her books! Belle nearly laughed out loud with excitement. She was about to pull out Peter Pan when she heard the door unlock and hastily stowed her bag away in the shadows. Both clerics came back in with a large, heavy-looking black bag.
"Let me out," she said, anger bubbling her even tone. Her hands were clenched at her sides and she felt her heart's pace quicken.
"You haven't been cured yet," the cleric said in his monotone voice as he shut the wooden door behind him.
"There's nothing to cure- there's nothing wrong with me!" Belle pled with the older man as the younger dug through the mysterious bag. "I understand my father's worried about me, but he has no reason to-"
"You claim to be in love with a monster," the elderly cleric spat at her while the younger clutched a rope in his hands. "You must be cleansed!"
"He's not a monster! Get off of me!" Belle wrenched herself away from the younger cleric who tried putting the rope around her wrists. Though the room wasn't large, she still had to make a dash to where her bag was. After quickly making sure it was closed, she swung it and hit the younger in the face with the books and began to run to the door when he recoiled.
"That won't help you," the elder cleric said, grabbing an iron-clad hold on Belle's wrists. With a spryness for a man much younger than he, the cleric grabbed the rope from the floor and tied her wrists, then ankles together.
She squirmed violently, her mind beginning to recede into the panic-mode that felt almost commonplace. "Please!" she begged, not realizing she was sobbing until she felt hot, wet tears slipping down her cheeks. "Don't do this, please," her voice failed her and she curled up on the floor, barely noticing the younger cleric's wheezing breath. She looked up and, though the shadows flickered oddly, was able to see his blood-stained nose and a rush of triumph washed over her. She hoped she broke it.
"Clearly, we don't have a choice," the younger one said, his consonants dull as though he had a cold.
"Clearly not," came the elder's voice from the other corner of the room. Belle had no idea what he was doing until he came back over to her, a glowing, orange poker in one hand and a vial of holy water in the other. "You. Will. Be. Cleansed," he said as the poker drew closer to the exposed skin on her arm.
Belle shut her eyes and clenched her jaw as she felt the white-hot burning stream through her arm. She held her breath so she wouldn't smell the burning flesh, and more so that she wouldn't give these wretched men the satisfaction of her pain. Just when she couldn't hold on anymore, the burning subsided and was extinguished with an unsatisfyingly slow trickle of what must have been the holy water.
Belle slowly became aware of the sounds of the clerics packing things away.
"We will try again tonight," she heard the elder mutter as the door opened then shut quickly. As soon as silence ensued in the room, Belle focused on her breathing. Long, deep, and slow. When her mind needed something to focus on, it latched onto her memories of Rumplestilskin. How softly he touched her, his impish smile, his words and how greatly each one touched her heart.
After a few minutes- or hours, it was impossible to tell- Belle slowly opened her eyes. Her hands and feet were still bound and the burn on her arm still seethed with blistering fire. But she was okay. She could focus.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but she knew she needed to get out. She tried first wiggling her fingers and found that, with a little maneuvering, she could reach down and slowly untie the rope around her ankles. After she thankfully kicked it free, her hands were another matter. The rope was coarse and scratched her hands, and bound tightly, so there was little chance of her getting it off on her own.
Frowning, she got up and, after many unsuccessful attempts, finally got her bag unbuttoned and was able to look inside it for anything that might help her.
Beside the books was a pen. Useless. Belle began to grow impatient- she wanted the rope off now.
Looking around the room, she noticed the sconces which had a pointed edge- they'd have to do. Belle stood on her tiptoes and rubbed the rope against the pointed edge of the sconce. With a rush of triumph, she felt the rope slacken and break off in small fibers onto the floor. Soon, she was able to move her hands enough to where she removed the rope.
She grasped her aching wrists thankfully, ignoring how the blood from the scratches smeared against her fingers. Before she could do anything else, her ears picked up the faint sounds of someone coming down the hall.
Belle hurried to grab her bag and ran to the side of the door so that they wouldn't immediately see her when it opened. When the door creaked open, she hit behind it, grasping her heavy bag in her hands. She waited one…two…three seconds before seeing the younger cleric and hit him squarely in the head with her bag, this time knocking him out and spilling terrifying looking contents of the black bag all over the floor.
She dared not wait for the elder to arrive, so she ran up the corridor from which she came earlier that day and found the stairs and climbed them two at a time.
"No!" the elder cleric's voice came from the bottom of the stairs. "Stop!"
Belle did no such thing. She ran till she reached the top of the stairs then ran more until she left the church. Once outside, she did not stop. The air was fresh and crisp, mingling with the cooling of twilight. Beneath her, the ground seemed to fly.
She couldn't go back to the library- but they might just fear Rumplestilskin enough to not enter his house. Though it was further away than her library apartment, Belle pushed herself to run faster. Her lungs didn't ache and burn with the sudden inhalation of air, nor did her legs feel wobbly till she reached Rumple's house and, with shaking hands, unlocked the front door.
As soon as she shut and bolted the door behind her, Belle collapsed. It took her a good few minutes to recover, her legs and chest aching from the sprint. She now shook with fear and exhaustion but refused to let any more tears fall. She had cried enough that day and tears wouldn't solve much at the moment.
Her eyes fell on the digital clock on the television in the living room, its numbers displaying the time: 9:07. She laid her head back against the door, hoping, praying, that neither the clerics nor her father came after her. After twenty minutes of sitting by the door, her heart began to slow its frantic pitter-patter. Belle breathed in deeply, relishing the familiar smell of Rumple's house which calmed her- more so than she thought it would.
She would keep the lights off, she decided, in case anyone came looking here for signs of her. A rumble in her stomach made her decide that her next move would be the kitchen; she hadn't eaten for the entire day, after all!
When she raided the pantry Belle discovered that Rumble had left a box of granola bars and cereals in the cabinets and juice and a gallon of iced tea in the fridge. After about four granola bars and three cups of iced tea, Belle began feeling herself again. Sitting in the dark kitchen, she realized she should check her wounds and wash them so they wouldn't get infected, but…no. The trauma of the event was still too close at hand.
Belle tried not to dwell too much on what had transpired earlier that day. She tried not to think of how stupid she was for agreeing to go along with the cleric. She tried not to think of how deeply her father had betrayed her trust. But most of all, she tried not to think of how much it would help if Rumplestilskin was there to offer her comfort.
She climbed the stairs, her dragging feet making her realize just how exhausted she was. There would be time and light to read the next day- and a chance to call Ruby and tell her about the situation. In the bathroom, Belle quickly scrubbed soap and cold water over her hands and feet using a washcloth. When she brushed the cloth over the burn on her arm, she winced and gasped aloud at the stinging fire that still clung to the skin.
That was enough of that, perhaps.
She would find out if Rumple was trying to communicate with her, she thought determinedly while settling into Rumple's bed, wearing only her knickers and one of his night shirts. She shivered, the sheets much colder than she remembered. Perhaps one way to relax and at least get some sleep would be to focus on Rumple, which wasn't so much difficult as it was...saddening. With memories and thoughts of Rumplestilskin, Belle slowly slipped into sleep.
When she next awoke, she found herself in flames.
