Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Guinness Book of Records.

When Jean opened his eyes, he wished he had kept them shut. It didn't make a difference whether his eyes were open or shut, for things were just as pitch black in reality as they were in his mind. Yes, it was well into the night.

So, the reason why he wished he had kept his eyes shut had nothing to do with what he saw. They had to do with how he felt. Somehow, closing his eyes made him ignore the pain which ripped through his whole body. Somehow, it made him feel less alone. Now, this wasn't a feeling he could explain, so it would be pointless to ask him to.

Yet, Jean left his eyes open. He turned to his side and winced as he did. A thousand knives felt as if they were stabbing into him. Oh, he had to do it. He had to shut his eyes – and tightly. While he did, he slowly made his way up. The word slowly needs to be empahasised here, for he did take his time. He could have even gone into the Guinness Book of Records, if such a thing had existed in his time.

Somehow, Jean made his way into a chair, but he could not go any further than that. Oh, how hopeless this situation seemed to make him feel.

"I am ruined," Jean whispered into the darkness. "Not only do I feel paralyzed, but I have a corpse in my dining room. And I'm sure Belle has abandoned me. She never wanted to be here in the first place. She always longed to be back with her father. Oh, she could never have been happy here anyway. Not with somebody like me. All I was to her was a beast deprived of love. And I thought beauty could fill up my life. Oh and how I convinced myself that it was filling up my life. I didn't know how deprived I really was, until she came along. She filled up my life."

Jean shut his eyes, hoping he could fall asleep. Every time he tried to, he saw Belle. Belle with her sharp wit and plain face. Belle who filled up his life.

The doors slid open and Jean almost jolted out of his seat. Oh, the pain this swift movement of his caused! It was so unbearable that he wasn't concerned with who was at the door. Until they made themselves known.

"Goodbye Jean, I am leaving now. I'll always love you."

Jean almost fell off his chair. He grabbed on it tightly, praying that it really was her voice he had heard. "Belle?"

He heard her shudder. "J-Jean?"

"Yes, it's me," he said. "I thought you had left."

"I was about to," Belle admitted. "Jean, where are you? It's so dark, I can barely see anything. Let me switch on the light."

"No, don't," Jean said.

"Why not?" Belle asked softly.

"Because of how I look," Jean said.

"Of all people, I thought you'd be the least to care about how you looked," Belle chuckled.

"I used to care," Jean said. "It wasn't so long ago either. In fact, I didn't stop caring about such trivial things until today. Today I thought I was about to lose you. Now, that was a thought that scared me. More than anything else ever has. I love you Belle and I'm going to take you in my arms and never let you go."

Belle started laughing, but something in Jean's voice, stopped her. He sounded positively earnest. "Jean?"

He had stood up and was slowly making his way over to her. She heard his small footsteps on the ground, but barely. She smiled. Nobody had ever made her feel like the most special person in the world before Jean. He made his last footstep toward her and as he did, she extended her arm. He took her hand in his, but as soon as he did, she jolted her hand back. This was not his hand. She looked up at him. Barely visible were the features on his face, but it was enough. This wasn't Jean.

"Belle?"

"Who are you?" she demanded. "How can you sound like Jean and yet not look like him?"

"What are you talking about? I'm Jean. Nothing's changed about me."

Belle switched on the light and gasped.

"What is it?" Jean asked and started touching his face. "Oh-Oh, I-I'm me again. Belle, I'm me again!"

Belle looked blankly back at him.

"Oh Belle, I was not born a beast," Jean explained. "I only became one because-because…"

Because of a transition fairy named Sandine. How was he to explain that one?

"Because?"

"You wouldn't understand," Jean said, shaking his head.

"No, you're wrong Jean, I would understand. Nothing you say could surprise me. Not after I have fallen in love with a beast and have had him turned into somebody else. No, I'm afraid you're wrong. So tell me."

So began Jean's tale of Sandine and Long Beard and the events prior to Belle's arrival into his life. Belle did not once look bewildered. She held onto his every word, having the utmost faith in them. Then when he was finished, she pulled him closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. His hands held the small of her back and were intent on never letting go.

Belle left his shoulder and looked up to his face. She tilted her head as she pulled closer into him and then placed her lips on his. Then she rested her nose on his.

They stood like this for a considerable length of time before Belle pulled away. "What do we do about Michel?"

"Hmm," Jean said, looking over at him. "Well, this is what I think we should do. I'll deal with him, while you can wear your best evening gown and meet me in here in an hour. How does that sound?"

"Jean, is it awful not to be the least bit sorry for what I did?" Belle asked, nodding to Michel.

"I don't know, love. All I know is that he is dead now and we cannot bring his life back."

"Oh yes you can."

Jean looked at Belle. "Did you say that? I mean, it didn't sound like you, and yet I thought we were alone."

"Don't worry, you were alone," the voice returned. "I just arrived now. By the way, I'm down here."

Jean and Belle looked around the floor and then, to their astonishment, Michel was rising to his feet.

"Don't be alarmed," he said – bare in mind, he said this in a female's voice. "Michel's not alive just yet. I've just entered his body. I'm Doris, the Entrance Fairy. Must I give you an introduction to what I do? You know, I pretty much already summed it up."

"Jean," Belle began, "do you know this…fairy?"

Jean shook his head.

"Now, I'm going to bring Michel back to life," Doris told them. "Now there is no need to look so fretful. I will take him back to the village. In fact, I will find him a suitable wife so he will have no need to try and pursue you again, Belle. How is that for a plan?"

"Are fairies going to keep coming in and out of our house, Jean?" Belle asked, once the fairy had left.

"You know, I cannot doubt it," Jean admitted. "But not to worry, because they are very helpful. Wouldn't you agree?"

Belle shrugged. "Maybe."

Jean took her hands and placed one on his shoulder, the other enveloped in his own hand. She placed his free hand on her back and off they went, swaying to the music of their beating hearts. So many things about them were synchronised. The beating of their hearts, their passionate wits and above all, their love for each other.

"Jean?"

He looked up at her, taking away a strand of hair from her face. "Yes?"

"Are roses really an example of true beauty?"

Jean shook his head. "Superficial beauty, yes. But true beauty…true beauty could only be summed up in one word."

"What word is that?"

"Belle," Jean said and he kissed her full on the lips. "Any other questions?"

"Yes, one other," Belle said. "Jean, is beauty more important than love?"

"Beauty is as equally important as love," Jean said.

"How is that?"

"Well, I just said that beauty was you, Belle, and as for love, it is how I feel about you. So they are equally important for you and how I feel about you are equally important."

Belle smiled, while Jean continued. "You know what I find funny? I had set out to teach you what I thought was the right way of thinking, but it turned out, you did all of the teaching."

"I learnt too, Jean."

"Oh yeah, and what did you learn?"

"I learnt how to love a beast."

"Just like how I learnt to love beauty."

FINI