Sorry this chapter took so long, but I had a massive case of writer's block on top of the stress of starting a new job! Hope it was worth the wait!


"Maman!" Belle screamed, nearly tripping as she threw herself from her bed and into the hallway. "Maman!" Her hurried footsteps down the dark hall were abruptly halted as she ran into someone.

"Hush, my Belle," her Papa said, wrapping his arms around her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"No, I need Maman," she protested and began weeping.

"You know she needs her rest," Papa told her gently, stroking her sleep-tousled hair.

"It's all right, Maurice," her mother's voice echoed from the slightly open door at the end of the hall. "Come here, my darling."

Belle went into her parents' bedroom, feeling now that perhaps her nightmare wasn't as bad as she first thought, and that a nine year old girl was too old to be running to her mother for such things. Nine was practically an adult as far as Belle was concerned, but that dream had been particularly awful. When she saw her mother reclined in bed, all of her concern went from her head and she crawled beneath the covers to snuggle up beside her mother.

"What's wrong, my dearest?" her mother asked, putting her arm around Belle's shoulders and holding her so closely that Belle could hear her heartbeat.

"I had a nightmare, Maman. A giant shadow had locked me away somewhere dark and cold," she confessed, shivering with the memory. "I didn't know where I was, and I couldn't escape." It sounded so simple when she said it aloud, but the dream had terrified her more than any nightmare she ever had before. The shadow was massive, looming over her as if it would never let her go. She wasn't sure that it would hurt her, but the oppressive presence of the shadow was more than she could bear.

"Well, it's all right now, isn't it? You're safe here in my arms, my love. You know your Papa and I will always protect you, don't you?" Belle nodded though by now she knew that her parents could not protect her from everything; the teasing of other children or tumbling down the stairs was beyond their control, of course. But Belle was still child enough to find comfort in the idea of her parents protecting her always.

"Shall I tell you a story to take your mind off your dreams?" Maman asked and Belle nodded eagerly, cuddling even closer to her mother's warmth. Maman always knew just what to do to chase Belle's dreams away. She and Belle would read and tell stories to each other for hours that felt no more than mere minutes, exploring new worlds through their stories.

"May I join you?" Papa asked from where he had been standing by the doorway. "I love a good story." Belle patted the bed beside her and sighed in content as she was comfortably surrounded by her parents warmth. Her mother began to tell her a beautiful fairy tale, one of Belle's favorites, and Belle felt her nightmare slip from her mind. A good story, whether from her books or one devised by her mother, was capable of banishing the difficulties of the worst day or a nightmare as horrible as the one that haunted Belle that night.

Soon, though, her mother began to cough, halting the story as she fought for breath. Belle scooted a few inches away, giving her mother space as she had been taught to do when Maman had such attacks. The horrible cough and weakness had filled the better part of Belle's eighth year and now almost all of her ninth, so Belle had plenty of practice in what to do during these horrible coughs. But Belle could never get used to them.

Papa got Maman a glass of water and helped her drink it, which eased the cough, but Belle knew her mother would be unable to go on with the story.

Once her mother settled back down onto her pillow and began to breathe easier, Belle wrapped her tiny arm as best she could around her mother and reached up to play with her light brown hair. Maman loved to have her hair played with; Belle would often watch Papa brush it out for Maman at night. Her mother smiled, clearly exhausted by the fit of coughing, gently tugged once at Belle's own darker locks. Belle snuggled closer beside her mother, drawing Papa's hand over her as well, and took up the story where her mother had left off, continuing the familiar tale easily.

Before Belle could finish, her mother drifted off to sleep beside her and Belle felt warmed that she might make her mother so comfortable. The illness did not let her sleep much, Belle knew, so she was proud that she might help her Maman sleep. It made her feel grown up in the way she was able to do something like that for her mother. Belle glanced over at her father and smiled when she noticed that he, too, fell asleep to her story. She snuggled down under the arm of her father and onto the shoulder of her mother and it was like this, encompassed in the warmth and love between Papa and Maman, that Belle followed her parents into comfortable slumber.


Belle woke to the sensation of being held above the ground and opened her eyes to realize her father was carrying her out of her parents' room.

"Papa?" she asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The sun just barely coming up, so why was Papa moving her? Had she been taking up too much of the bed?

"Hush, my Belle," Papa replied and Belle noticed that his voice cracked and his eyes were red. She began to grow frightened at the sight of her father crying; Papa never cried, at least not without a good reason.

"What's wrong, Papa?" she said, struggling to sit up in her father's arms. Papa put her safely on her feet and knelt down in front of her. Papa was rather short, but she was tinier still, even for a nine year old, and they were eye to eye.

"Belle. . .Belle, you must be brave now. Your Maman. . ." he broke off and looked away for a moment. Belle waited, but a feeling of dread began to creep into her heart. "She was sick for so long, you know," Papa continued and Belle watched silently as tears streamed down his face. "She's happy now, I hope. Happy to not be ill."

"Maman is gone," Belle realized and was surprised to hear herself say those awful words so calmly. "Maman." Without a thought, Belle started back to her mother's room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Papa reach out to stop her, but she ignored him. She walked resolutely to the doorway of her parents' room, but found she could go no further. She could see her mother lying on the bed, eyes closed, looking just like she was sleeping. "Maman?" she called, but did not dare to go in further. Surely if her mother was dead she wouldn't look so very much like herself. Papa must be lying, she reasoned, except that he never lied to her. But it was her own fear at entering the room that confirmed what she did not want to believe.

"Maman," Belle whispered and sunk to the floor, still staring at her mother's body. Though she was only nine years old, and though her parents had done their best to keep the severity of it hidden from her, Belle was aware how very sick her mother had been. Her mother was a tutor, not usually a position for a woman, but she visibly enjoyed her work and Belle was so very proud of her clever Maman. So when the day came that her mother decided she was no longer able to teach, Belle knew that something was very wrong with her mother. Belle also knew that the doctors Papa brought could not help her. But Belle, though she did not consider herself to be unintelligent, somehow never truly realized that all this meant her mother would die.

"Belle, come away," she heard her father say. She knew she should do as he said, but his voice seemed worlds away and held no power for her. All she could do was stare at her mother, so beautiful it was impossible for her to be no longer inside her own body. Belle kept waiting to see her mother turn in her sleep, to open her hazel eyes and smile at Belle as she so often did, or just to see her breathe. But none of that happened and Belle was left waiting.

Hands at her shoulders bid her to stand and she followed their direction even though her legs seemed as far away as her father's voice had been. She was turned and led to her own room, but Belle still saw only her mother lying in her bed, asleep now forever.

"Is the girl all right?" a voice that was not her father's asked. Belle didn't care who was speaking, or what they spoke about, but neither was she able to block out the words. So she merely listened.

"She's just a bit shocked," Papa replied to the man Belle did not know and could not see outside her still open door. "We both are. We were all asleep and when I woke. . . she was. . ."

"Go downstairs," the unknown man said. "Hubert and I will take care of it." The name Hubert was unknown to Belle; these must be the men to take Maman. . .

The thought was too awful, so with some effort Belle turned her mind to a comfortable numbness, choosing to ignore what was happening. She retreated to a small nook between her bookcase and the wall, curled up as tightly as she could manage, and fell asleep.


"Belle? Belle, you must eat something," Papa prodded. Belle tried, truly she did, but she couldn't bear to do anything more than move her food around her plate with her fork. Maman's funeral had been several days ago, thanks to the soft ground of a very mild winter, but Belle still could not dismiss the image of her mother being shut away in a box. It was too horrible, too final. Belle felt the sorrow at her mother's loss eat at her inside until she felt completely hollow and Belle had not yet been able to cry.

Everyone at the funeral said that it was a shame that Belle had to lose her mother. But Belle didn't lose her; she couldn't go on some epic quest to find her mother, as the heroes in Belle's books did to find great treasures. Maman was gone not lost, and nothing she could do would change that.

One small consolation was that her mother seemed to be so very well loved by her students; many of the children convinced their wealthy parents to let them attend the simple affair, and nearly all of them came up to Belle and her father to offer their condolences. Belle was overwhelmed by so many faces staring down at her, mournfully recalling her mother's kindness and intelligence. Belle had been proud of Maman for doing what she loved although a female tutor was so uncommon, but Belle never imagined how grateful her students were for what her mother did.

"Belle?" Papa came to her and knelt beside her chair, tucking a strand of hair back into its place. Belle did her best to give him her attention, enough to notice how very tired her Papa seemed, but her mind was still back with her mother in her box. "You're such a brave little girl. But you've been worrying your Papa."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled ashamedly. She didn't want to make her father worry, not on top of everything else they were going through, but she wasn't sure how to fix what seemed to be wrong.

"You've been so quiet, keeping to yourself. I know you miss your Maman, but you haven't even read your books since. . . What can I do for you, my Belle?" Papa took her hands in his and looked up at her earnestly.

"Nothing, Papa. May I be excused?" He nodded and moved to let her up. Belle was glad to escape the sadness she saw in her father's eyes; it was a sadness that mirrored her own and she hated to think her Papa was suffering so badly. Why did Maman have to die?

Belle climbed the stairs to the second floor of their small apartment and closed the door to her room quietly. She sat on the edge of her bed and gazed at the piles of books that lay before her untouched. Just a few weeks ago Belle couldn't wait to delve through her books, absorbing all she could from what those pages had to offer. Many of them were second-hand books, battered at the edges with torn and folded pages, but Belle treasured them above all else. It was rare that Belle would be seen without a book nearby, but as Belle sat on her bed that afternoon, she realized that her books which had been so carefully and lovingly arranged now had no interest for her.

Belle rose to look out the small window out of their apartment, standing on tiptoe to do so. Beyond the grime that caked the outside of the window, Belle watched the people walk through the busy streets of Paris. Belle was born in this city, though they didn't move into this apartment until Belle was two years old. When she was little, her mother would take her for walks along the crowded streets and to the park and Belle would be able to see all sorts of people. Some were rich, others dressed in rags, but Belle enjoyed meeting them all.

She laughed once as she remembered a rather embarrassing moment when she was four. Maman was taking her towards the park one day when they came across a man holding his hat upside down. The man had been begging for coins, of course, but Belle didn't understand that at the time. Thinking that he was looking for a new hat, Belle took her second-hand blue bonnet off her tiny head, broke away from her mother, and held the bonnet up to the man. Her mother gasped and tried to drag Belle away, but the man with the alarmingly dirty beard laughed and carefully put the bonnet back on Belle's head. Belle was confused and was surprised to see her mother look angry with her, but Belle never received the scolding she had anticipated. Belle didn't think she even told Papa. What Maman did do, however, was take Belle aside much later on in the day.

"You are so good, my Belle. Where did you get such a good heart?"

Not really understanding what her mother was saying, Belle could only reply: "From you, Maman." Whereupon her mother pulled Belle into a tight hug and allowed Belle to go play.

With that memory, Belle stepped back from the dirty window to sit amongst her piles and shelves of books. A couple of the piles went as high as Belle's head as she sat and looked at her beloved books. Papa was right; it wasn't like her to ignore her books. She picked up the closest volume: a beautiful leather bound item, on its cover a hand painted image of a maiden sitting in a garden, looking wistfully at a castle in the distance. Though she was quite old enough to read to herself, Maman would often read these stories to her when Belle was sick or had a particularly bad day; the exciting events and happy endings never failed to make Belle feel better. And later, when her mother began to stay home because of her illness, Belle would read the same stories to her.

Belle took a breath and opened the cover. In the top right corner of the inside page was Belle's first scribble of her own name and Belle was proud that her penmanship was much more grown up now. The center of the same page was taken up by a sentiment inscribed by her mother which read: Belle, Books are friends that never leave you and teach you who you truly are. I love you, mon ange. ~Maman

Belle had read those words hundreds of times before, but the words now seemed to take on an entirely different meaning than before. Now that Maman was gone, all Belle had left of her was her books and it was wrong of her to push those aside.

A knock came at the door and Belle looked up in time to see Papa enter her room. "Belle?" he said, his voice curious.

"Papa. Oh, Papa," she cried, surprised at the emotion that suddenly welled up in her tiny chest, making it so tight it was difficult to breathe. Papa came to sit beside her and pulled her into his arms, encircling her slight frame in warmth. "I miss her so much, Papa," Belle confessed, feeling the edges of the fairy tale book press into her stomach as her father held her more tightly.

"I do too," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. Belle felt the empty despair inside her chest at last begin to ebb in light of the new uncomfortable emotion and, wrapped in her Papa's arms, she was at last able to cry. It was quiet at first, just a few silent tears that ran down her cheeks, but as those first few tears fell, so too did the rest of the hollowness and Belle began to weep. Sobs wracked her chest as she cried for her mother, but it felt good to at last be able to truly mourn her.

"It's all right," Papa cooed, rocking her back and forth as though she were a baby. Belle was most certainly not a baby, but it felt good nonetheless and she put aside her large nine year old pride for the moment. "You're all right."

"What are we going to do, Papa?" she wept uncontrollably, her repressed emotions now hitting her like a wave upon the shore. "She's gone!"

"I know, Belle. Hush now, everything will be all right. I promise I'll take care of you. Maman will be watching over us, and together we'll be all right." Belle hugged her book more tightly to her, but her now painful sobs began to ease as she found comfort in her Papa's words. It hardly replaced her mother; she still wanted her mother more than anything and missed her with all her heart, but decided that she and Papa would find a way to be all right.


Ok, now that I've thoroughly depressed you all with these two chapters, I promise things will be looking up for Belle and the Beast soon! Well, mostly Belle because let's face it, being turned into a Beast would pretty much be the worst.

Thank you all for your reviews as well! I think I've responded to all those from the first chapter except for 'Lily' and to them I want to say that I am planning, as best I can, explain the logistics of how and when the servants get the full story!