Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Summary: Belle, Gaston and LeFou travel to see a potential new home for Maurice.

A/N: I'm not exactly sure where this fic is going. I want to introduce Gaston's sister, Giselle, but I don't know exactly what her function should be. Does their relationship help humanize Gaston in Belle's eyes? I feel like his relationship with LeFou kind of already does that. Do I turn her into an antagonist because she doesn't think Belle is good enough for Gaston? Does the beast/prince make an appearance in the form of the count running the sanatorium? What happens from this point forward? If anyone has any ideas, please leave me a review or PM me. Also, I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested. I update frequently, so I'm ideally looking for someone who could review my chapters the same day I send them.

Chapter 6: Coarse and Unrefined

The three of them departed for the Chateau du Isole early in the morning with grey clouds hanging overhead. It didn't look like a promising start for a journey, but by midday the clouds had evaporated and the weather had turned mildly pleasant. Belle and Gaston rode Andre, the old stallion, while LeFou rode Fury, the ebony mare Gaston normally reserved for chasing game. LeFou didn't mention it, but it was a pleasant change to get away from Andre. They spent far too much time together and he sometimes wondered if he old horse secretly had it in for him.

They had been travelling for the better of a day on a remote forest path when the howl of wolves could be heard in the distance. Belle shivered, "I didn't realize there were wolves in this part of the forest," she said.

Gaston shrugged, "there are wolves in most places that are far enough away from towns. Don't worry. They usually avoid humans and this time of year there's plenty of easier prey for them. They have no reason to bother us."

"Maybe it's time to stop at the nearest inn? It's getting late," LeFou suggested.

"You're probably right. We've covered about as much ground as can be expected in one day. We should reach the Chateau tomorrow evening. I've asked my sister and brother-in-law to meet us after we've finished our tour. I hope that's alright, Belle. The Chateau is almost exactly between here and Marseille and it seemed like poor manners not to contact them."

"Not at all," Belle replied. "I'd like to thank your sister in person for finding this place for my father. Even if it doesn't work out, I appreciate the effort she made for someone she hardly knows."

"You'll get a chance to tell her in person."

After a bowl of stew and a tankard of ale, Belle was feeling pleasantly drowsy. She was about to drop off to sleep at the table she shared with LeFou and Gaston when LeFou began to reiterate one of Gaston's war stories. Belle never paid attention to things like that at home, but here she found herself listening attentively. LeFou described in detail how a band of Portuguese soldiers had marched into Villanueve and proceeded to ransack the shops and take anything of value. The men of fighting age had all gone to fight in France's latest war and the village had essentially been left defenseless. Gaston, only sixteen at the time, had managed to round up a few local youths to drive the scoundrels off.

"We didn't even all have guns," LeFou recalled, "Most of us had pitchforks or sheep shears. That was how formidable we were. You would think trained soldiers would have laughed at us. We waited until it was dark, so they couldn't see how terrified we were. Then we marched into town and demanded that they leave. There was this one big bloke who seemed to be in charge. He said that they weren't leaving, so Gaston"-

Gaston cut him off, "Don't make this out to be more glamorous than it is."

"He challenged him to an arm wrestling match," LeFou struggled to control himself.

Belle laughed incredulously, "You can't be serious."

Gaston cut in, "I'm completely serious. I was a wiry lad at sixteen, but I was used to farm labor. This fellow was big, but he looked like he was a nobleman's son. Life for him was all amusement and court affairs. It was hardly a contest at all."

"That's how you saved the town? With an arm wrestling match?"

"Fighting is all about bringing people together, but if you can bring them together and then not fight, then so much the better."

"Papa will never believe this when I tell him."

"I still have nightmares about it actually. What if that bloke had been stronger than he looked and I had lost? What if I had led every remaining young man and some of the boys in our village to their deaths? It could have happened. Those lads were my responsibility. I joined up with the military right after that. I figured if I was going to risk my life fighting, I ought to do it with men who knew what they were doing."

"Gaston, you are just full of surprises."

The trio made their way upstairs and Belle removed the layers of her dress down to her chemise before she climbed into bed. She was about to drift off to sleep when she heard the familiar strains of one of her father's music boxes. At first, she wondered if she was dreaming. Lately, she had come to dread the sound of that music box. It meant that somewhere in the house her father was awake and she had no idea what he was doing. She didn't feel that way now though. Instead, she felt the familiar sense of calm that had accompanied listening to the melody as a child, when she thought her papa was the best music box maker in the world.

Belle sat up. She wasn't dreaming. She was awake and she could still hear the music. Where was it coming from? Slowly, careful not to make a sound lest she disturb the errant music maker, she made her way across the room and out into the hall. It sounded like the music was coming from the room directly adjacent to hers. Afraid the music might stop if she disrupted it with a knock, she slowly turned the handle and pushed the old Oak door into the next room. What she saw was shocking. Gaston sat at a small table in the center of the room winding one of her father's music boxes with a small key as it rotated and played its lilting melody.

He looked up and Belle saw that there were tears in his eyes. "Forgive me," he said, "I had no thought of disturbing you. I wanted to show the doctors at the sanatorium what your father was capable of before he lost his faculties. He was a brilliant craftsman."

"Where did you get this?"

"I bought it at the county market."

"Papa didn't go to the county market this year. He was too ill."

"No, I bought it last year."

"This isn't last year's design. He makes subtle changes to each generation of music box."

"Alright, so it's from a few years ago."

"Why would you buy something like this? What use would you have for a music box?"

"Am I not as entitled to enjoy a pretty tune as anyone else? Do my interests in hunting and farming exclude me from enjoying the finer things in life? Next you will say that I cannot enjoy my sister's piano playing because I like riding horses or that I cannot find a game of chess amusing because I appreciate a bawdy song at the tavern. For a girl who claims to want to see the world, your thinking is awfully provincial."

Belle didn't know if it stung more that he had just called her a girl or that he thought she was small minded. Perhaps he's right, she thought. Maybe I have been a silly little girl, thinking I understood the world because of my books. Maybe I've been so busy day dreaming that I haven't really paid attention to the people in my life. "I'm sorry for barging in uninvited. I was only trying to locate the source of the music. Now that I have I'll go back to bed." She left as suddenly as she had arrived.

Gaston closed the box and put his head in his hands. He didn't know what else he could do to make her see him as a gentleman. He had no idea if seeing the music box would help or hurt his cause. At any rate, he felt like a naughty child who had just been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. The truth was that he listened to it on lonely nights when he couldn't get the thoughts of her out of his mind. He would listen to the song and wonder if she was listening to the same thing across town. "I'm just fooling myself," he whispered to the empty room, "She'll never see me as anything but a monster."

Belle shivered under the blankets, but she wasn't cold. She never would have imagined that Gaston could appreciate something as whimsical as a music box. She thought him so practical. He didn't seem like he would have time for odds and ends that didn't serve a purpose. She was finding out that everything she thought she knew about him was wrong. Maybe she didn't really know him at all. She was equally shocked by how old the music box was. She knew all of her father's designs and that particular one was from three years ago. Has he been in love with me all this time, she wondered. She had never paid any attention to Gaston until a few months ago when he had started badgering her to take a look at his trophies with him. At least, that was how she'd thought of it at the time. Had he been trying to gain her favor before then? She was ashamed to say she didn't know. She'd been too busy reading to give him any thought.