The Transformation

It was over. It was all over. He'd been so damn close as well. He'd been so close to freeing Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, Lumière - and Chip, how could he forget Chip? It wasn't about him anymore, never should have been about stupid, stupid him, he thought through the pain. It was because of him that they were in this mess, after all; if only he hadn't been so vain, so spoiled, so utterly selfish and self-adsorbed; if only, he thought, he had been twenty-one instead of eleven. Although who knows what he might have become if she hadn't stepped in ten years ago?

I'd be that man who just tried to kill me, he realised. The man from Belle's village, the one who had belittled her, mocked her, tried to force her to marry him simply because she was beautiful. And now, the Beast was fairly sure, that man was dead.

Wait, the Beast thought. Where is my name? I had a name, after all. I even remembered it...

And then it didn't matter, because he could see Belle. He felt her small, delicate hand on his chest, he saw her rain-soaked clothes and loose hair - the first time he'd seen it down since she tended the injuries he received from the wolves - and he knew beyond certainty it was true.

"You came back," he whispered.

"Of course I came back!" she exclaimed, almost indignant. "I couldn't let them . . . oh, this is all my fault! If only I'd gotten here sooner . . ." He could see her eyes filling up with tears.

"Maybe it's better this way." It means you can have your adventure, he wanted to say. It means his servants may be released from their enchantment. It means the rumour that his father believed so many years ago can finally come true.

"Don't talk like that!" Belle was definitely indignant now - in fact she even seemed angry for a brief moment. "You'll be alright. We're together now. Everything's going to be fine, you'll see." The lie was blatant, and the Beast wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

I love you, he wanted to say. I love you, and you're my greatest friend, and I wish, I wish you could have loved me back so I could hold you close right now and touch your face and your hair and maybe even kiss you. But he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to Belle. So he said something that was equally true.

"At least I got to see you . . . one . . . last . . . time . . ." He reached for her face, and she held his over large paw to her cheek. No disgust. No fear.

And then he fainted.


When he came to, he was surrounded by pain.

His arms were too long for the skin they were in, his claws trying to rip through, until a blaze of fire in both his hands rid the Beast of fur, paws and claws. There was an ache in his arms - from the fight with the man in the red shirt, he supposed. Then his legs started growing, the knees extending, the calves thickening up while his thighs slimmed down, and the paw both stretched and shrunk at the same time, until the smaller claws on his feet were destroyed in another blaze of fire. He could feel five fingers, if he counted, five toes, if he concentrated. They ached, oh, the limbs on this body ached, buzzing with a strange kind of energy he didn't recognise, and try as he might he couldn't open his eyes, and that made everything a hundred times worse.

And then the worst was happening, the rest of his body was shrinking, his ribcage too small for his giant lungs and heart, the skin too taut for his spine, and oh god oh god this hurt worse than anything that had come before it, and his lungs were shrinking, and he couldn't breathe until his heart was smaller, so much smaller, and his backbone wasn't threatening to pop out the skin of his neck, and then he managed to breathe, to catch a breath, before the fire turned to his face, and in one single burst of agony the heaviness of the Beast was gone, and all that remained was Adam.

The magic lowered Adam to the ground, still wrapped up in his father's dark blue cloak, the softness of his shirt doing nothing to stop the cold of the balcony stone leeching off his body heat. Slowly, Adam managed to push himself up, hair falling into his face, when he realised he had shrunk. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his trousers were far too big at the waist and his feet were starting to - wait, feet?

He stretched out his hands. He had hands - the spell was broken! He spun around, and saw Belle - really saw her, up close. He had shrunk about 2 feet, but he was still taller than her. He found he didn't really mind. He stepped towards her, and almost imperceptibly she shrunk back.

"Belle," he said, in a voice about three octaves higher than the one he'd used for the last ten years. "It's me." She edged closer, reached up and stroked some of his hair between her fingers. He looked down, willing her to recognise him - for crying out loud, she'd clearly seen the transformation, why was she so hesitant!? She looked into his eyes, deep brown meeting light blue.

"It is you!" she cried, joy breaking out across her face. Adam did the bravest thing he'd done this evening, and gently brushed some hair out Belle's face. He smiled widely - good, he remembered how to smile properly - and leaned down to do what he'd wanted for so long. Belle's eyes were already closed, and Adam was struck by just how beautiful and amazing she was.

And then he kissed her.

A wild wind flew across the air, whipping both his and Belle's hair up above them. Her arms wound tightly around his neck; his were absorbed in her waist. The kiss was slow at first, just their lips moving against each other, but then Belle opened her mouth and their tongues danced around each other and they gripped each other even closer, if that was possible. The sun broke out, warm on their skin, and they broke away, grinning like idiots.

Lumière started hopping out, the flames flickering back to life, when suddenly a burst of golden light enveloped him and he was, once again, the tall brown-haired man Adam remembered, even down to the yellow-and-brown outfit he was wearing.

"Lumière!" Adam cried. Cogsworth, the faithful old clock who had once been his fathers trusted advisor over domestic issues, waddled quickly towards the three humans, transforming in a burst of light back to the plump little man with a moustache like clock handles he remembered. "Cogsworth!" He stretched his arms - how wonderful it was to have arms again! - around the two of them, and caught sight of the matronly teapot who had almost become a mother to him shoot up to her lavender-coloured uniform, comfortably stout and maternal. "Oh, Mrs. Potts!" he shouted, beaming for joy, "look at us!" He crushed the three people he'd come to rely on most in the world close to his chest, releasing them all three significantly more rumpled than before.

"Mama, mama!"

They turned to see the little chipped teacup bound in on the smart red-and-velvet footstool, before they too transformed into a bounding little boy with candle-like hair and the large puffy kitchen dog Adam fondly remembered from days long past.

"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. Potts laughed, picking up her son (grandson, really, but nobody minded) while Pojo - the dog - danced around their feet. Adam was bursting with energy; with a smile he leaned into Belle, who was smiling and rejoicing with the rest of them, grabbed her waist tightly and swung her around his head, to her delight and surprise as she shrieked in shock.

"It is a miracle!" he heard Lumière murmur. But Adam didn't care for anyone else at that moment. He was standing up straight, the sun on his back, the woman he loved in his arms, and all he wanted to do was kiss her for saving his life, his soul, his everything.

So he did.

A/N: Okay, so this is the last fic I had lined up in my head specifically. I'm probably never going to run out of ideas for them, but if you have a prompt or want to request a specific ficlet, just PM me here or go to my tumblr, its-spelled-with-an-a-moron :)

Reviews make me happy!