Author's note: Thank you everyone for the kind and well thought out reviews! And not to meet some of the other residents of Storybrooke Home for Mental Wholeness...
"Fresh meat," someone shouted as she came into the cafeteria. Belle tried not to look around as she went up to the counter and picked out a slice of quiche and a bowl of fruit salad. There was no coffee, but she made a cup of herbal tea. It looked like caffeine was on the 'no' list at Storybrooke.
"Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at." She was halfway to one of the empty tables in the middle of the room when someone jumped in front of her, making an oddly elegant bow, sending the ends of his tattered scarf waving. She vaguely recognized the man from the day before in the arts and crafts room.
"Leave her alone, Jeff." A woman tugged him away, pushing him back in the direction of the table where he'd been sitting, then turned her smile towards Belle. She was, perhaps, one of the most beautiful people Belle had ever seen. Her dark hair, as straight as Belle sometimes wished her own was, was streaked with red the same color as her lace top.
"Sorry about him. Jefferson gets a little excited sometimes. Join us?" She gestured at the table where four other people sat. "I promise none of us bite."
"That's not what I heard about you, Red." The only other guy at the table raised one eyebrow suggestively.
"Shut it, puppet boy. You'll scare off the noobie." The woman, possibly named Red, sat back at the table and patted the spot next to her on the bench. "You don't want to start out eating alone, sweetie. It sends out a wrong message."
"It really does." A woman with short hair that might have been black or a very dark brown chimed in. "It's easier here if people think you already have friends looking out for you. We could do that."
"You don't even know me." She was puzzled as she looked at all of them, such an oddly mismatched group. All of them were looking at her without trying to disguise the fact that they were staring, except for the blond at the far corner of the table, staring at her plate.
"Don't mind Ella. She has a calorie count she has to meet before she's allowed to leave the cafeteria, and if she doesn't focus she'll be here for hours. She's cool, even if she is the only dragon in the group." The woman who she only knew so far as Red speared a strawberry with her fork and ate it in little bites as she talked.
"She's a... what?" Belle already had a roommate talking about fairies, she didn't think she could manage dragons as well. What kind of place was this?
"One of the ways we identify ourselves here is by doctor. Ella's with Carabosse; she takes anyone with an eating disorder, because she used to work for some anorexia hospital or something. I'm a cricket. Jeff, August and Mary Margaret are all dearies."
"Dragons, cricket and dearies?" She remembered, finally, that there was food in front of her and took a bite of the quiche.
"Dr. Carabosse collects dragon figurines. Dr. Hopper has pet crickets he keeps in his office and you really won't want to make a joke about feeding them to anything bigger." The guy that, by process of elimination, had to be August was the one to answer this time. "Gold calls people dearie, especially when he's annoyed."
"Or concerned," Mary Margaret chimed in.
"So which one are you? I'm guessing cricket." August barely tilted his head in acknowledgement of the woman's contribution, but quickly turned his attention back to Belle. "You seem Hopper's type."
"I'm supposed to meet Dr. Gold at his office this morning?" Belle was used to quiet meals, either by herself during the day or with her father or Gaston, sometimes both, for dinner. Every few months her father would bring home a business associate, but even those dinners were ordered and sedate, with everyone taking turns speaking and Belle rarely saying much at all. She certainly wasn't used to so many questions being asked in such a rapid fire manner.
"You're a dearie, then, like Jefferson and August and me. We'll be in group together." The smile Mary Margaret offered was sweet and friendly. Somehow Belle managed a small smile back.
"Group?" She was beginning to feel like an echo.
"All of us see our shrink alone, anywhere from two to five times a week. Twice a week we have group sessions; all of Gold's patients meet together, all of Hoppers, all of Carabosse's. Usually it's one circle, where everyone sits and talks..."
"The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings." Jefferson waved his fork, a piece of ham at one end of it, in time to his recitation.
"And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings." August looked almost lethargic until the fork came closer. He snatched the ham and popped it in his mouth just after he said 'pig,' then continued as if there had been no interruption. "And one informal activity where they encourage 'bonding' among the patients. The fun around here never stops."
"You're just bitter because yesterday's group involved climbing."
"Ruby, be nice. You're not even supposed to know what our group was doing." Belle took note of the fact that the women who had first greeted her was apparently Ruby, not Red. She also couldn't help but think that Mary Margaret sounded like a mother gently scolding her child.
"Nothing stays secret around this place for long. And she's not wrong." August's face was almost expressionless as he got up, holding onto the table for a moment before picking up his plate. He took three steps, halting and slow, his left leg dragging each time he stepped with the right. Another step and he staggered, only keeping himself from falling with a hand to the back of a chair.
"Why..." Belle bit her lip; it wasn't any of her business.
"Why what, princess?" He didn't turn, but looked over his shoulder at her. Belle had to swallow against the bile in her throat before answering.
"Why don't you have a cane or something, to help you?" She couldn't quite make herself meet his eyes.
"Conversion disorder; my brain tells my body I'm paralyzed from the thigh down but medically there's nothing wrong. Gold says letting myself rely on something only makes the paralysis more deeply rooted. I'd love to take his cane sometime and see how well he manages without it." There's bitterness but not hate in his voice as he sets his jaw and once again walks away to return his plate to the counter.
"Poor guy," Mary Margaret said once he was out of hearing range. "Stress always makes his leg worse, and his dad wasn't able to visit this week because he was sick. They're really close, and he worries."
"Don't worry, he's one of the saner ones around here. That's about as bad as he gets. On his really bad days when he can't get out of bed because of his leg he just gets quiet." Ruby's plate was clear, somehow, thought Belle had barely noticed her eating. "You know, we haven't gotten your name yet."
"Belle," she said, without thinking about whether she should tell or not. "It's Belle French."
"Welcome to Storybrooke, Belle."
"We're all mad here." Jefferson's grin turned hard as he looked at her. Belle, without thinking, leaned back a little, trying to put distance between them. She was glad when she looked up at the clock and realized that she could use her impending appointment with Dr. Gold to leave the cafeteria.
She didn't belong in this place.