So you know the line in "Me" where Gaston says, "Pumpkin, extend with me" (If you don't, you will by the end of the chapter!)? Well, we were all in rehearsal one day - it must have been close to opening night, because I had nothing to do with that song but I was still in the theatre - and our Gaston and our Belle were going through it. When he sings that line, though, our director stops him and asks, "Do you know what you're saying there?"
The answer is no.
Everyone busts out laughing. The man has a wife and three children - one of the children is in the house, watching, and I'm pretty bloody sure he understood what Gaston was supposed to be saying there. So the director has to explain to the grown man exactly what extend with me means when spoken to the hot girl you're trying to wife.
Hanging round the theatre makes me feel smart ^_^
"Waaaaahhhhhh!"
"It can't be true! I don't believe it!"
"Why would you go and do a thing like that!?"
"I can't bear it, I simply can't bear it!"
Liesel, Laura, and Veronica trailed Gaston down the street, bawling their eyes out. Liesel took hold of his arm pleadingly. "Gaston, say it isn't so..."
"It's so," Gaston said. He was too pleased with himself to worry about the cheerleaders' renewed wails, but eventually the sound got on his nerves. Besides, they were right outside Belle's house, and he didn't want her to know beforehand that he was coming. So, putting on his best soothing manner, he said, "Girls..."
They all looked up at him. There were tears flooding down their cheeks; Veronica was still hiccuping.
He smiled reassuringly. "I'm just getting married," he said. "Don't tell me a little thing like that's going to change the way you feel about me."
As he knew it would, it made the girls' minds latch onto another idea. "Oh no!" Liesel exclaimed.
"No!" Laura said, sounding shocked at the very idea.
"Never," Veronica said, shaking her head fiercely.
Gaston smiled. "And we'll still have our little...rendez-vous, won't we?" Anyone with the slightest knowledge of French would have winced at the way he butchered the words, but the girls were captivated.
"Oh yes!"
"Yes!"
"Always."
"Good," Gaston said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, if we're going to have a wedding, I guess I'd better propose to the bride!"
It took a second for the words to make their way through the girls' brains, and then they burst into renewed sobs. Gaston shook his head irritably, but kept up a charming face. "Run along, now."
They did, although Liesel looked back when she reached the corner of the street. Then she wailed even louder and ran off after the other two.
Shaking his head, Gaston went to Belle's door and knocked. "Belle!" he called. "Oh, Belle!"
There was a beat of silence, then footsteps, and then a loud crash and several thumps. "Oof! Ow! Son of a..." Belle's voice trailed off into an irritated mutter, and then she opened the door.
A half-second later, as she realized who was standing outside, she turned and tried to slam the door shut.
Gaston stuck his foot out to keep the door open. "Hello," he said.
Belle stood still for a second, wondering if she'd still be able to make a break for it. But she concluded otherwise and turned around, fixing a fake smile on her face. "Gaston," she said. "What a...pleasant surprise."
"Isn't it, though?" Gaston asked. "I'm just full of surprises." He took his hand out of his pocket and held it out to her. "For you, mademoiselle."
Belle took whatever it was he was handing her uncertainly, and Gaston looked away with an immensely pleased expression on his face. She glanced down. "A miniature portrait!" she said, almost pleasantly surprised. It was a nice enough gift, she supposed.
Then she opened it up, and her brief expectations fell back down to normal. "Of you. You shouldn't have." She tossed it over her shoulder, where it landed in the pile of hardware supplies she'd knocked over trying to get to the door.
"Don't mention it," Gaston said easily, and turned to look at her. "You know, Belle, there isn't a girl in town who wouldn't want to be in your shoes. This is the day your dreams come true."
Belle found herself torn between laughter and sudden tears. "What could you possibly know about my dreams, Gaston?" she asked, walking past him. The idea that anyone in the little town could know what she really wanted was the most absurd thing she could possibly think of.
"Plenty," Gaston said. She turned back to face him, raising her eyebrows, and made for the door. There was a quick awkward dance as they tried to go around each other, and then Gaston stepped aside to let her pass. But as she did, Gaston grabbed her shoulders and put his arm around them.
"You've been dreaming just one dream
"Nearly all your life -
"Hoping, scheming just one thing:
"Will you be a wife?"
Belle froze.
"Will you be some he-man's property?
"Good news! That he-man's me!"
Belle slipped out from under Gaston's arm and tried to back away into the house. She'd known Gaston was a chauvinistic son-of-a-bitch, but property!?
But Gaston took hold of her hands and pulled her around to face him, lit up with his pleasure in dangling what he thought was the gift of a lifetime in front of her, and sang, "This equation, girl plus man, doesn't help just you!
"On occasion, women can have their uses too!"
Belle yanked her hands out of Gaston's grip, outraged.
"Mainly to extend the family tree..."
"Pumpkin, extend with me."
He leered down at her, blissfully unaware of the fact that Belle was suppressing powerful urges to throw up and to break his nose.
"We'll be raising sons galore!"
"Inconceivable -"
"Each built six foot four!"
"Unbelievable -"
"Each one stuffed with every Gaston gene!"
Belle rubbed her temples, shaking her head. "I'm not hearing this..."
"You'll be keeping house with pride -"
"Just incredible!"
"Each day gratified -"
Belle's nostrils flared. "So unweddable."
"You are part of this idyllic scene!"
Belle tried to storm back into the house, but Gaston linked his arm through hers and strolled off. Belle found herself extremely off-balance as her arm was yanked up to the level of Gaston's shoulder. "Picture this," Gaston said, painting his little romantic picture. "A rustic hunting lodge. My latest kill roasting over the fire. My little wife, massaging my feet -"
Massaging his...eew! Belle wasn't easily disgusted, but that was just nasty.
"-while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs. We'll have six or seven!"
Belle swallowed. "Dogs?" she asked in what she already knew was a vain hope.
Gaston dropped her arm, looking surprised. "No, Belle!" he said. "Strapping boys, like me!"
A rush of images connected to having six children - and having them by him of all people - rushed through Belle's head. "Imagine that!" she said faintly.
Gaston suddenly moved and pulled her into a jerky sort of half-tango. She yelped.
"I can see that we will share
"All that love implies!
"We shall be the perfect pair,
"Rather like my thighs!
"You are face to face with destiny..."
He leaned in, and Belle popped several vertebrae bending away.
"All roads, they lead to...
"The best things in life are...
"All's well that ends with me!"
He spun her out, and she tried to escape his grip, but he pulled her back and into more spins.
"Escape me, there's no way
"Certain as do re
"Belle, when you marry..."
He pulled her up, holding her hands. "So, Belle, what'll it be?" he asked. "Is it yes, or is it oh, YES!"
Belle gaped at him, struggling for something to say that resembled tact. "I...just don't deserve you!" she finally managed. Really and truly. I have done nothing to deserve this kind of punishment!
Gaston shrugged. "Who does?" he asked, turning out and letting go of her hands.
"Me!"
Belle rolled her eyes and stalked back to the house. "But thanks for asking!" she said sweetly, and slammed the door shut.
Gaston stood out there for a moment with the slam ringing in his ears. It took several seconds for her response to sink in. He turned slowly and stared at the door. His brows started to furrow down. That little...
Three sets of hesitant footsteps approached. A high voice spoke from beside him. "So? How'd it go?"
He turned. Liesel, Laura, and Veronica were standing there with mingled worry and expectation on their faces.
It took a couple seconds for Gaston to get himself under control, and then he tried to smile nonchalantly. "Oh, you know that Belle," he said through his teeth. "Always playing hard-to-get."
As one, the girls' faces went slack with shock. "She turned you down!?" they chorused.
"For now," Gaston said, glancing back at the house. Something hard and cold formed in his chest. "But I'll have Belle for my wife. Make no mistake about that."
And he turned on his heel and stalked away.
Liesel, Laura, and Veronica sighed and turned to watch him walk away. "Well, gee," Liesel said dreamily. "If she turned him down, then maybe I still have a chance!"
Laura and Veronica's heads snapped over. "What?" they snapped. Liesel's eyes went wide, and she tried to dash off after Gaston. Veronica caught her arm and spun, ending with them facing the opposite way. She took off, but Laura caught her and the same thing happened again. The other two managed to run after him while Veronica spun to a stop. She straightened up, looked around, realized the other two were gone, growled softly, and sprinted off behind.
A moment later, the dust cleared. Belle stuck her head out of the door cautiously. "Is he gone?" she wondered aloud.
The street was silent.
Belle left the house, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Can you imagine?" she said. "He asked me to marry him! Me, the wife of that boorish, brainless..." She went off into her best mocking impression of the cheerleaders. "Madame Gaston! Can't you just see it!?
"Madame Gaston! His little wife - urgh!" She shuddered.
"No sir! Not me! I guarantee it!
"I want much more than this provincial life..."
She bit her lip. That had come out much louder than she'd intended, and she didn't need everyone in town hearing her. They already thought she was weird enough. She glanced up and down the street, making sure no one was around. Then she looked up at the sky, blue and endless over the tiny, limited little town.
"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere!
"I want it more than I can tell..."
She kicked at a rock in the road.
"And for once, it might be grand
"To have someone understand:
"I want so much more than they've got planned..."
She sighed and turned back to the house. She ignored the footsteps that appeared at the end of the street until they were coming closer. "Hi, Belle," said a voice. Belle glanced over her shoulder to see a lanky shape with a mop of blond hair. Lefou.
She kept going, but Lefou hurried over to her. "Have you seen Gaston?" he asked.
Belle snorted. "You just missed him," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction he'd gone. Lefou nodded and hurried off, but something had caught Belle's eye.
"Wait a minute," she said, grabbing the end of the ugly, patched thing wrapped around Lefou's neck. "Where did you get that scarf?"
He turned to look at her, surprised. "This?" he asked, tugging at it. "I found it in the desert. Pretty nice, huh?"
Belle was examining the scarf. "This belongs to my father!" she said, looking up.
"Yeah, well," Lefou said, shrugging, "finders keepers."
He tried to walk off, but Belle got a firmer grip in the scarf and made him stop. "Lefou," she said seriously, and he turned, "I want you to think hard and tell me exactly where you found this."
"No," he said, trying to tug the scarf out of her hands. Belle frowned and yanked back, and the forces sent Lefou spinning out, clutching to the very end of the scarf.
"Think," she insisted.
"Somewhere in the desert," he said, scowling. Belle scowled back, and pulled the scarf the other way so he spun back. By the time he reached her, he was tied up in the scarf. Belle got a firm grip.
"Harder."
Lefou was several inches taller than her, but he had scrunched down until the top of his scruffy hair was about level with her collarbone. "Near a big canyon west of here, okay?" he whimpered. "About eight hours' drive."
Eight hours, Belle thought. She'd seen Lefou in town after Maurice had left; that meant that he'd gone out there later. So...
"Then he's still out there somewhere," she whispered. "Lefou, you have to take me back!"
"Not driving again," he whined. "I only did it 'coz Gaston told me to. I hate driving!"
Belle shook him. "Don't you see, something must have happened to him!" she exclaimed. "You have to take me back!"
"Not on your life!" Lefou snapped, and twisted away. The scarf unwound again, and he tottered dizzily for several seconds. Then he dropped his end and headed down the street.
Belle glared after him. "Then I'll find him myself!" she yelled.
West, she thought, heading inside. How did he end up going west? We made sure he had a good map, and he's much better with maps than a GPS anyway... Unless he couldn't see it properly... I've been telling him to go get his eyes checked for the past two years! Why didn't he listen?
She laid the scarf in the workshop, grabbed an atlas and a sweatshirt, and ran into the little garage. She and Maurice had been fixing up an old car - a real hunk of junk, but by this point it was at least drivable. She wouldn't be able to take it over about sixty miles an hour, but if she was careful it would easily last eight hours. Plus, there was a bag of materials inside that could come in handy.
She got in, pulled open the atlas so she could see the right map, and headed west.
Back at the mansion, Lumiere was being followed by Cogsworth. "Couldn't keep quiet, could we?" Cogsworth was saying. "Just had to invite him to say, didn't we? Serve him tea! Sit in the Master's chair!"
"I was trying to be 'ospitable!" Lumiere snapped. He felt awful for what had happened to the old man. Cogsworth's attitude wasn't helping.
"Rubbish," Cogsworth muttered.
Lumiere looked at him. "Cogsworth," he said. "Can you blame me for trying to maintain what's left of our 'umanity? Look at us!" He snorted. "Look at you!"
Cogsworth pulled himself up as tall as he could. "What about me?" he said irritably.
Lumiere snorted again. "You always were insufferable," he said, "but every day, you become just a little more...inflexible. A little more tightly wound. A little more ticked off!"
"Please, spare me the stupid puns," Cogsworth said, turning away.
"At least we are not as far gone as some of the others," Lumiere said, shaking his head. "You remember Michelle?"
It was Cogsworth's turn to snort. "She was always too vain about her looks," he said. "And that's exactly what she's become."
"A vanity," Lumiere said dryly.
"Little drawers, mirror...the works," Cogsworth agreed.
"And poor Jean-Claude," Lumiere said.
Cogsworth glanced over at him. "Who?"
"You remember 'im," Lumiere prompted. "Not too bright, dumb as..."
"A brick?" Cogsworth guessed.
Lumiere raised his eyebrows. "Ze 'ole wall."
"Jean-Claude's a brick wall," Cogsworth murmured.
"Yes, zat's 'im in ze kitchen, be'ind ze stove."
Cogsworth tutted, shaking his head.
Lumiere's tone turned derisive. "And you remember Guillame, ze 'ouseboy?"
"That mealy-mouthed little bootlicker!" Cogsworth said. "I never liked him. He was always grovelling at the Master's feet."
"'E's a doormat," Lumiere informed him, smiling darkly.
Cogsworth chuckled. "Perfect."
Lumiere smiled for a moment longer, then sighed. "It's 'appening faster with some of ze ozzers, but we are not far be'ind," he said. "Slow but surely, as every day passes, we will all gradually become zings."
"But why did we have to get dragged into this whole spell business?" Cogsworth wondered. "It's not like we threw that poor old beggar woman out on her ear."
"No," Lumiere said, "but are we not responsible too? For 'elping to make 'im ze way 'e is?"
Cogsworth inclined his head. "I suppose you're right," he admitted.
Lumiere shook his head, looking at the candles that had used to be his hands. "All I know," he said, "is I will eventually melt away to nozzing. I only 'ope zere is somezing left of me if ze Master ever breaks ze spell."
In a rare show of comradeship, Cogsworth patted Lumiere on the back. "Hold on, old man," he said bracingly. "We've got to hold on."
It had taken an hour longer than it should have, but Belle had finally found the canyon Lefou had talked about. She followed the footprints and wolf tracks down and up to the door of the mansion. The place looked uninhabited. Nervously, half hoping she wouldn't get a response, she stuck her head in and called, "Hello?"
The call echoed slightly and then died away. It didn't sound like anyone was there. Against the wall, Cogsworth and Lumiere froze.
Belle made her way inside cautiously. "Is anyone here?" she asked, looking around. "Hello!"
There was still no answer. She frowned. It was too dark to explore easily. She pulled a roll of duct tape and a matchbook out of the bag that had been in the car. There was a loose piece of trim around the door; she wrenched it off and wrapped some tape around it. Then she lit the torch, holding it above her head so she didn't breathe in the fumes, and she headed deeper into the mansion.
In the shadows, Cogsworth and Lumiere stared. "It's a girl!" Lumiere breathed as she left.
"Yes, of course, I can see it's a girl," Cogsworth said. Then his eyes went wide. "It's a girl!" they chorused.
"Mademoiselle!" Lumiere called.
Cogsworth grabbed his arm. "Lumiere, let me do all of the talking," he said.
Lumiere pulled his arm away and headed for the door the girl had left through. "Yoo-hoo!" he yelled.
"As head of the household, I should do most of the talking!"
"Cherie!" Lumiere vanished through the door.
Cogsworth hurried after him. "A word! Just one word, that's all I'm asking for!"
Near the kitchen, Chip hopped over to Mrs. Potts. "Mama, Mama!" he said. "You'll never believe what I saw! Not in a million thousand years! Not in a trillion million thousand years!"
Mrs. Potts smiled indulgently. "Yes, dear," she said.
"No, really," Chip said. "This is the greatest thing. This is the thing everyone's been waiting for since...since...since I don't know when!"
"All right, Chip," Mrs. Potts said, picking him up. "What is it?"
Chip beamed. "There's a girl in the mansion!"
"Bless my soul, wouldn't that be lovely!" Mrs. Potts said, shaking her head.
Chip looked at her. "But it's true," he said. "I saw her!"
"Now Chip," Mrs. Potts said, looking at him seriously. "I'll not have you making up wild stories. Getting everyone's hopes up for no reason..." She supposed she couldn't blame the boy for daydreaming. He'd been so cooped up for so long.
There was a sound from the door, and they looked over to see Babette flouncing in. "Mrs. Potts, did you 'ear?" she asked. "Zere is a girl in ze mansion!"
"See, I told you!" Chip said triumphantly. "And she's real pretty, too."
Babette stopped in her tracks. "Well," she said snappishly, "I don't know about zat."
Lumiere had lost track of the girl, but he was to ecstatic to care. "Zis is ze one," he said. "Ze girl we 'ave been waiting for. She 'as come to break ze spell!"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Cogsworth said, trying to calm him down. "Let's not be hasty."
But that ship had already sailed. "Oh, isn't it wonderful? After all zese years - oh, 'appy, 'appy day!" He hugged Cogsworth tight and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks.
"Stop it! Stop that!" Cogsworth spluttered, shoving Lumiere off.
Lumiere wasn't at all flustered. "We should tell ze ozzers, non?" he asked, and took off.
"Yes," Cogsworth said. "I mean, no. I mean -" He looked around and realized that Lumiere had already gone. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" He took off after the candelabra man.
Belle had made her way into the cellar of the mansion, thinking she'd check down there before she started to look through the upper floors. She brushed several cobwebs aside as she looked around. "Hello? Is anyone here? I'm looking for my father!"
"Belle! Is that you?"
Maurice's voice, faint and shaky, came from the other side of the cellar. Belle hurried across to find him huddled against the wall next to what looked like a suit of medieval armor. "Papa!" she said, kneeling down in front of him. She tugged him as tightly as she could while still holding the torch up.
"How did you find me?" Maurice asked, letting go.
Belle's hand had slid over top of his. She inhaled sharply. "Your hands are like ice," she whispered. "We have to get you out of here."
Maurice shook his head fervently. "Belle, you must leave this place," he said.
Belle stared. Maurice sounded terrified, and he was shaking all over. "Who's done this to you?" she asked.
"There's no time to explain," Maurice said. "You must go, now!"
"I won't leave you here!" Belle exclaimed. She tried to help him to his feet, and then froze. She'd heard a noise from behind her. Slowly, she rose and turned. "Who's there?"
Whoever it was, they were staying out of the torchlight. "I know someone's there," she said, raising the torch higher. "Who are you?"
"The master of this mansion," growled a voice from the shadows.
Belle's lip curled. "Then you're the one who's responsible for this," she said. "Release my father at once!"
"I am the master of this mansion, and I do not take orders from anyone! Throw her out!" he snapped, and the suit of armor suddenly moved. It grabbed her shoulder in a cold metallic hand.
Belle gasped and yanked out of its grip. "No, wait, please!" Okay, new plan. " Forgive me. Please let him out. Can't you see he's not well?"
The voice growled. "Then he should not have trespassed here!"
"But he's an old man!" Belle protested angrily. "He could die!"
"He came into my home uninvited, and now he'll suffer the consequences!"
She realized where the voice was coming from when a huge figure moved in the shadows. She stepped towards it. "Please, I'll do anything!" she said desperately.
"Belle," Maurice said.
"There is nothing you can do!"
"No, wait, please!"
The figure whirled around. "I told you, there is nothing you can do!"
It stalked away, and the desperation rose in Belle's chest.
"Take me instead!"
There was half a second of silence as all of them took in the words.
"No!" Maurice cried.
The shape paused. "What did you say?" he asked, turning.
Belle hesitated. Then she lifted her chin. "Take me instead," she said clearly, and was relieved that her voice didn't shake as much as she thought it might.
"Belle, you don't know what you're doing," Maurice said, grabbing her hand.
The shape took a step towards her. "You would do that?" he asked. He sounded incredulous. "You would take his place?"
"If I did, would you let him go?"
"Yes," growled the voice.
Belle set her jaw and nodded.
"But you must promise to stay here forever."
Her determination flickered away for half a second. "Forever..."
The shape stepped closer again. "Forever! Or he dies here in the cellar."
"That's not fair," Belle whispered. Then she looked up. "Wait." She held the torch higher. "Come into the light."
The shape hesitated. Then, slowly, it came forward. Belle's eyes went wide. The creature was at least seven feet tall, covered in thick tawny fur and with a beast's face. It was upright, though, and wore clothes which, even though they were enormous and torn up, looked like they belonged on a young man. Belle instinctively backed away from the sight.
The Beast turned away sharply. "Make your choice," he growled.
Maurice grabbed Belle's hands. "Belle, listen to me," he said desperately. "I'm old. I've lived my life."
Belle stared into his face, biting her lip. She couldn't leave him here. He was strong, but whatever had happened already with the Beast had hurt something inside of him. Belle was more adaptable. She could take this.
"You have my word."
"Done!" the Beast roared.
The suit of armor took Maurice's arm and pulled him towards the stairs. "No! I beg you! Release my daughter!" His shouts of protest echoed off the cellar walls. "Belle!
Belle tried to follow after him, but the Beast leapt between them and roared. Belle recoiled instinctively from the Beast's sharp teeth, crying out. "No, wait, please!"
"Take him to the crossroads!"
"No, please! Wait!"
Maurice disappeared up the stairs. Belle stared for a few moments, and then turned away. She could feel her throat going tight, and she refused to let the Beast see her cry.
"Master," said Lumiere, who had followed the Beast down the stairs.
"Hush!" growled the Beast.
"Master, please," Lumiere said, more gently. "As the girl is going to be with us for some time, you may want to offer her a more comfortable room."
The Beast paused. Then he glanced at Belle, facing the other wall. She had huddled in on herself, and the duct tape torch was hanging limply by her side. He approached slowly. Belle heard the clicking of his claws on the stone floor.
"You didn't let me say goodbye."
Her voice was low, and it shook slightly - whether from anger or something else, the Beast couldn't tell. "What?" he asked.
She turned to face him. The torch lit her face oddly, but it wasn't hard to tell that she was glaring at him. "Well, I'm never going to see him again, and you didn't even let me say goodbye!"
The Beast was taken aback. Finally, the only thing he could come up with to say was, "I'll...take you to your room."
"My room?" Belle asked, losing the edge of her anger. "But I thought -"
"Do you want to stay in the cellar?" the Beast roared, whirling around.
"No!"
"Then follow," the Beast said, stepping closer. Belle flinched away. "You follow me!"
He stalked off up the stairs. Slowly, Belle followed. With her anger starting to fade, she didn't have much to hold on to to keep herself from crying.
As they walked through the halls, the Beast spoke. "This is your home now," he said. "You are free to go anywhere you like, except the West Wing."
"Why, what's in the West Wing?" Belle asked.
"It's forbidden!" the Beast roared. "You are never to set foot there, do you understand?"
Belle clamped her mouth shut belligerently.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"Yes!" she snapped, turning her head away.
He led her up the stairs to a door on the second floor. He stepped aside, and she opened the door slowly. "This is your room," he said. "I hope you will be comfortable here."
She walked inside as quickly as she could, trying to get away from the Beast.
"If you need anything, my servants will attend to you," the Beast said. "And one more thing."
Belle glanced over.
"You will join me for dinner."
She turned away, stalking over to the bed.
The Beast growled. "That is not a request!" He slammed the door shut. Belle could hear him going down the stairs. She looked at the torch, which was smoldering faintly in her hand. She blew out the rest of the flame and dropped it on the floor. Then she hugged her arms close to herself.
"Yes, I made the choice:
"For Papa, I will stay.
"But I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way, you monster!" She shouted the last words at the door and fought the urge to cave in to her building tears.
"If you think that what you've done is right, well, then,
"You're a fool!"
A tear slipped out of her eye. "Think again."
She looked around the room. It didn't look like it had been used in years. The sun was going down, and it was getting dark and chilly. There were cobwebs in the corners, and dust on every surface.
The tears won out.
"Is this home?
"Is this where I should learn to be happy?
"Never dreamed
"That a home could be dark and cold!
"I was told
"Every day in my childhood: even when we grow old,
"Home should be where the heart is!
"Never were words so true."
She swallowed.
"My heart's far, far away;
"Home is too."
She flung open the window and started east, up above the canyon ridge and into the darkening sky.
"What I'd give to return
"To the life that I knew lately!
"And to think I complained of that dull provincial town..."
Her face twisted at the irony of it, and she slammed the window shut. She turned to face the room, and was overwhelmed. She was never going home. Never going to see her papa again. She was going to be trapped here with the Beast for the rest of her life.
"Is this home?
"Am I here for a day or forever?
"Shut away
"From the world until who knows when!"
And then she jerked her chin up. "Oh, but then
"As my life has been altered once, it can change again."
She flung her arms up. "Build higher walls around me!
"Change every lock and key.
"Nothing lasts...
"Nothing holds all of me."
She straightened up, holding her head high. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped off of her nose and chin.
"My heart's far, far away,
"Home and free!"
She smiled sadly, and turned to face her room.
Then there was a knock on the door. Belle went still. "Who is it?" she asked, not turning.
"Mrs. Potts, dear," said a warm voice. "I thought you might like some tea."
Belle wiped her face quickly. "Come in," she said. The door opened, and she turned.
Then her eyes went wide.
"Nothing like a warm cup of tea to make the world seem a bit brighter," said the smiling, matronly figure who had entered the room pushing a small cart. A large teacup was sitting on top of the cart, beaming at her.
"But you're a...you're a..." The figure was just bizarre enough that Belle couldn't be absolutely sure, but the woman bore a powerful resemblance to a human-sized teapot.
"Mrs. Potts, dear," the woman said gently. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance." She approached Belle, who couldn't help backing away a little. She ran into the wardrobe, which gave a little cry of shock that made Belle leap away.
"Careful, darling," said the wardrobe.
Belle stared. "Who're you?" she asked.
The wardrobe-woman smiled. "Madame de la Grande Bouche," she said grandly. "Perhaps you've heard of me."
"Sorry," Belle said, shaking her head.
Madame turned away. "You see, they've forgotten all about me," she moaned petulantly. "One can be - and I quote - the toast of Europe, the brightest star ever to grace the stage, but fall under one little spell..."
Belle was still shaking her head. "But this is impossible," she said. It was too much to take in all in one sitting.
Madame smiled kindly. "I know it is, dear," she said, "but here we are. Now," she said importantly, "what shall we dress you in for dinner. This is...nice," she said, eyeing Belle's cargo pants and tank top, "but how would you like to borrow one of my gowns? Let's see what I've got in my drawers!"
Belle bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Madame had opened her doors. The clothes on the hangers inside were being pawed through. Then something white and lacy was pulled off the rack. Madame held it out, beaming so hard that her eyes closed.
This time, Belle was shocked into laughing. What Madame was holding out was a pair of fluffy, lacy bloomers.
Belle's laughter made Madame open her eyes. She looked hurt for a moment, and then she realized what she had held out. "Oh, dear," she said, shoving it back inside. She made another search. "Here we go." She pulled out a beautiful red dress, trimmed with white velvet and with graceful, off-the-shoulder sleeves. "I wore this the night I performed at the Royal Opera. The king himself was there!" She sighed happily at the memory, and then glanced down at herself. "Of course, I wouldn't have a prayer of fitting into it now... Take it."
"That's very kind," Belle said, "but I'm not going to dinner."
Mrs. Potts and Madame exchanged looks, and then looked back at Belle. "Why, of course you are," Madame said shakily. "You heard what the Master said."
Belle frowned. "He may be your master, but he's not mine!" she snapped. Both of the woman shrank back a little. Belle put her hands to her head and rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "It's just... This is all happening so fast."
Mrs. Potts put a reassuring hand on Belle's shoulder. "That was a very brave thing you did, dear," she said.
"We all think so." Madame smiled encouragingly.
Belle nodded, feeling her throat go tight again. "I'm going to miss my papa so much."
Mrs. Potts rubbed Belle's shoulder. "Cheer up, child," she said warmly. "I know things may seem bleak right now, but you mustn't despair. We're here to see you through.
"I hope that we'll be friends,
"Though I don't know you well.
"If anyone can make the most of living here, then Belle, it's you.
"And who knows:
"You may find home here too."
TrudiRose: I understand your concern, and I really appreciate the advice, but I'm much more comfortable with the script that with creating new dialogue and relationships in the story. What I'm trying to do is tell the story in my own way, through the script, just like you would onstage. I want to play around with characterization and character development to help enrich my writing, and it's easier to not deal with having to craft a full story. Plus I have issues with paraphrasing a script - I've had the idea of word-for-word performance beaten into my head by our director, and it's a hard habit to break!