Trigger warning: Child abuse, specifically sexual abuse, is a focus of this chapter. Also mentions of self-harm.

"It's not as good as Granny's, but chicken soup still goes down easier than most anything else." Belle, who had been staring at her plate, watched as it was pushed away and replaced with a steaming bowl of soup. A moment later Ruby slid onto the bench next to her, setting her own tray of food down on the table. It looked a lot like the one Belle hadn't been able to stomach.

"There wasn't any soup at the counter." She'd been later than usual to lunch, an extra session with Dr. Gold squeezed in to the late morning, and had expected to eat alone. Ruby and her friends tended to eat at the start of meals, when the food was freshest and hot; no matter how hard they tried the cheeses started to clump oddly and the stews formed a skin over the top before the lunch and dinner periods were over.

"I can be very persuasive," Ruby said with a grin as she took the top slice of bread off her sandwich and proceeded to rebuild it without the pickles, but adding a layer of potato chips.

"What she means was that she flirted with one of the kitchen staff." August was walking better, able to carry his own tray without trouble. Ruby had pointed out his father, on Saturday, and the hugs that they'd shared both in greeting and parting; Belle wondered if that was the reason for the almost cheerful mood today.

"I got what I wanted, didn't I?" There was a laugh, and Belle guessed that Ruby had made a face or stuck out her tongue. Belle was concentrating on making herself dip the spoon into the bowl and eating a bite; it seemed rude not to when Ruby had gone to the trouble. She'd promised Dr. Gold, as well, that she would try and eat a real meal; he'd allowed her to get away with toast at breakfast, and whole grain crackers with her tea during the hour and a half she'd spent with him.

The first bite was small, and barely trickled down the back of her throat. It was warm, though, like the tea Dr. Gold served. Even if she didn't manage the noodles she thought she could at least handle the broth without upsetting her stomach. Her throat was raw from the crying and throwing up; the soup helped there too.

"For when you're done with the soup." Mary Margaret sat at her other side, with her own lunch tray, and set a napkin with chocolate chip cookies on it next to Belle's water glass. "Sometimes chocolate helps."

"Helps?" Belle looked up in horror, finding that Ruby, August, Jefferson, Mary Margaret and Ella were all sitting at the table, and only Ella wasn't looking at her. "Does everyone know?"

"We don't know anything, sweetie." Mary Margaret patted her shoulder, at the same time seeming to keep a watchful eye on the men setting across the table from them, both of whom had a tendency to crack wise.

"Not a thing," August agreed as he tore his sandwich in half, somehow making it look as neat as if he'd done it was a knife.

"We know that something happened, but we don't know what and we don't need to know. We've all been there." Ruby looked around the table. Everyone nodded, even Ella.

"I had to be force feed, for two weeks, when I first got here." It was the first time that Ella volunteered more than a word or two.

"I had to be under twenty-four hour watch once," Ruby said softly, not quite looking Belle in the eye. Belle had been checked on every hour throughout the night; she couldn't imagine what it would take to have someone watching full time. Ruby seemed so normal. Belle hadn't thought about it much, but now that she did she realized that she didn't know what the reason was for her to be here.

"I really like jell-o." Jefferson picked a bright blue cube of the jiggly substance out of a bowl before sliding the rest over to her. Moving a finger at a time he made it dance across the back of his hand, from one side to the other. Belle couldn't look away from the odd almost dance it seemed to be doing.

"Remember how I explained earlier about being supportive, Jeff? This isn't it." Ruby glared at him, and pushed the bowl back across the table.

"When I was a kid I thought jell-o was magic." Jefferson continued as if Ruby hadn't spoken.

"It's not liquid, but not solid. You poke it and it springs back. Light goes through it like stained glass. And no matter how bad you feel it's hard not to smile at the wiggle of a piece of jell-o." With two fingers he passed it from hand to hand, the strange little cube jiggling as it caught the light. After a moment he tossed it high, looked up and cleanly caught it in his mouth. The were bits of blue on his teeth when he grinned at her. Belle found herself smiling back. It wasn't until the smile faded that she realized how long it had been since she had smiled in anything other than a polite and expected way.

"Thank you," she said as Jefferson slid the jell-o even closer to her. He tipped his head in her direction, making a gesture with his hand as if doffing a hat. In another time and place he might have been an elegant gentleman. Unlike Ruby, though, Belle knew enough of his story to understand that 'elegant' was hardly a word for him. She hoped that someday he remembered his daughter. He obviously loved her very much; it would be terrible if they lost each other permanently. Little girls needed their fathers.

"Excuse me." The soup she'd managed so far threatened to come up again. Belle pushed back her chair and hurried to the bathroom, hiding in one of the stalls even when the wave of nausea passed. The urge to find something sharp and cut, just a little, was strong. She tried pinching the inside of her arm but the old cuts were almost all healed; it had been three days since she'd cut herself, two since Gold had found out her secret. All of her secrets.

"Belle?" Ruby called to her softly, a moment after the door opened and closed.

"I-I'll be out in a minute." Ruby knew something was wrong. They all did. Belle stared at the tiles on the floor and wondered how long it would be before everyone knew the truth. Dr. Gold had spoke to her about filing a report and getting a restraining order. She didn't know if she could. Her father would be so upset. Everyone would be disgusted. No one would ever look at her again without seeing what she was.

"You don't have to come out, if you don't want to. No one is looking for you yet." They both knew that someone would, eventually. The bathroom nearest the cafeteria, especially, was carefully monitored because of the patients with eating disorders.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Through the gap at the bottom of the stall Belle could only see Ruby's feet and lower legs. She stood calmly, but sounded worried.

"I'm fine." She had to cover her mouth to keep a hysterical laugh from escaping. Fine? She didn't even remember what the word meant, let alone what it felt like.

"It's okay, you know. Not to be fine. Dr. Hopper taught me that." There was a sound of running water. A moment later a wet paper towel was offered under the door. The cool dampness felt good against Belle's face. She wasn't sure why Ruby thought she needed it, but she was grateful.

"You seem fine." It was a statement, not an accusation. She wanted to be calm, cool and collected like Ruby.

"I am, most days, as long as I don't think too much about leaving this place. Dr. Hopper thinks I might be ready for a day pass, though, and just thinking about that makes me want to run to my room and hide."

"Don't you want to go home?" She'd met Ruby's Granny. There was only affection between them. Belle had gotten good at reading people's moods, and there didn't seem to be any trouble in that relationship between grandmother and granddaughter.

"More than anything, but only if it's safe." The confession was almost a whisper. It was only the echoing acoustics of the bathroom that made it loud enough to hear.

"Safe?" Belle's gut clenched again, but it wasn't nausea this time. She opened the stall door and stared at Ruby, worried.

"Not safe for me. Safe for everyone else." For the first time the confident woman that Belle was in awe of was gone. The Ruby staring at the mirror, at herself, was quieter and in some ways almost smaller than usual.

"I don't understand."

"I killed someone. That's why I'm here. I don't remember it, Hopper said that it's my mind's way of protecting me." Ruby's eyes met hers in the mirror. Belle could see the unshed tears. "His name was Peter. We were friends for years, but had only just started dating. There was a party and I..."

"You don't have to tell me." She took a step forward, not daring to touch the other woman but standing close enough that she could, if Ruby reached out.

"It doesn't hurt any less to keep it inside." Ruby sighed, and pressed her lips together.

"I thought he was a wolf. That's the one thing from that night I remember vividly. I thought a wolf was going to attack me, so I got a knife out of the block on the counter and I attacked it first. They wouldn't tell me how many stab wounds there were, but when I woke up the next morning there was blood everywhere. Granny's the one that woke me up, but I don't remember that. I just remember the blood, and the screaming." She rubbed her neck with two fingers, as if trying to soothe the sore throat from two years ago. "The doctors said there might have been something in one of my drinks, that was gone before they drew my blood. But they don't know for sure. Maybe it was just me on my own, and if it was then I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster." There wasn't much she was sure of, right now, but she did not hesitate. Ruby was the closest to a friend she'd had in a long time. Her friend wasn't a monster, no matter what she'd done. Belle knew what monsters looked like, under the surface. "I trust you."

"Yeah, well, as Jefferson says we're all mad here." Ruby crossed her arms in front of herself, a protective gesture that Belle knew intimately. She wished she was brave enough to give the other woman a hug. She wasn't.

"Jefferson spent last week with a pillowcase wrapped around his neck and talks about bowling with cabbages and kings." He was everything she'd grown up thinking 'crazy' looked like. And yet he known how to make her smile, when things were getting too tense. Even now thinking of him made her smile a little. "Maybe it's the rest of the world that's crazy, and we're the sane ones."

"Maybe." Ruby didn't seem completely convinced, but she looked sideways at Belle instead of only though the mirror, and shrugged "Want to go eat those cookies Mary Margaret snatched for us?"

"Yeah, we can do that." She was relieved that Ruby didn't seem to expect anything in exchange of her own story. Maybe someday Belle would be able to tell someone what she'd gone through, someone besides Dr. Gold. Somehow she doubted it. She was just glad that the test hadn't come today.

II

"I've come to bring you home, princess. These people can't care for you the way I can." Director Mills was the one that brought her father into the arts and crafts room. The smile on her face reminded Belle of the Cheshire Cat that Jefferson had been talking about earlier.

"I don't think I'm ready yet, papa. You were right when you said they could help me not to be so sad. I'm getting better." She stood perfectly still, trying not to shake. She'd been worrying for a week that her father might do this, but not so soon. He'd only hinted at the idea of Storybrooke not being the right place for her.

What if he knew what she'd told Gold? He would know, once the papers were signed, but they hadn't even been drawn up yet. She hadn't done anything but promise to think about signing them.

She wasn't ready for this. Not when she hadn't had time to prepare, or better yet run and hide. She couldn't do this again. Couldn't let him touch her again. She'd disappear inside herself, this time, and no one would be able to help her. "Where's Dr. Gold?"

"He's at a conference, remember dear? He'll be back to work in two days; perhaps you'd like to leave him a note? Or I can deliver a message if you'd rather." Regina tapped her red nails against the back of a chair. "Perhaps a message would be better; we don't want to keep your father waiting, after all."

"I've missed you, my flower. I want things to be just like they were; we can be a happy family again, I know we can." Her father held out his hand, encircling her wrist with his fingers.

"Please, I'm not ready yet." She tried to pull away, but his grip was too firm. He was too strong; she'd never escape him.

"You're mine, princess. Just mine." Director Mills smiled. Her father held her tighter. No one else came to help, not the friends she'd made, or the other doctors. And not Dr. Gold.

Belle woke with a start, almost falling off the bed, not that it mattered since 'bed' was now a mattress on the floor and there wouldn't have been far to fall. They'd taken away the bed frames, and anything else sharp in the room. She couldn't cut herself.

She shouldn't cut herself. What she shouldn't do and what she wanted to do, though, were very different things.

Astrid was sleeping on her mattress, curled up on her side. She thought mattresses were an adventure, like camping. Belle thought of her own full sized bed in her bedroom with the canopy hung in white lace, and wondered if she'd ever sleep in it, or a real bed, again. She didn't want to sleep in any bed, at the moment. They weren't supposed to wander after lights out, but she couldn't stay in the room and risk falling asleep again. Risk dreaming. Belle pulled on her slippers and crept from the room.

Orderly Graham was in the hall, when she rounded the corner. She'd seen a lot more of him, the last few days; enough that she wondered just when he slept, since he'd been talking with Regina when she'd gone to her room the night before, and he was usually in the cafeteria when she went down to breakfast. Since it was not quite five he'd either left and returned or he just didn't sleep.

"I was just..." Belle couldn't think of a reason to be out of her room and headed away from the bathrooms.

"There's a meteor shower tonight. You might be able to see some shooting stars from the window." He nodded to the one at the end of the hall, the window frame wide enough that people sometimes sat on it.

"Aren't you going to tell me that it's past curfew and I should go to bed?" She hadn't heard him say much, unless directly asked a question, or on her first day when he was explaining some of the rules.

"You seem to know the rules on your own. Besides, it can't hurt to be out of bed as long as you have a proper escort." He walked beside her, but kept a good foot of space between them. He'd always been careful not to get too close. It was nice, not having to be on her guard, but able to trust instinctively that he'd remain outside of her personal space.

"Is there really a meteor shower?" Her mother had woken her up, once and they'd taken a blanket to the backyard and watched the stars rain down. She'd fallen asleep under the night sky, and had woken to her father carrying her up the stairs. It hurt that even those memories were suspect now. Had her father ever thought of touching her then? Would he have ever done what he did, had her mother lived? Molestation. She rejected the word almost before she thought it. The word had been on Gold's reports but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. If he loved her how could he do such a thing? But he had.

Did that mean he didn't love her?

"Usually is, this time of year. I figure the sky is celebrating the end of winter as much as we are." Belle looked sideways at Graham, who was looking out the window. He didn't seem to be joking.

"You don't like winter?" She did. It meant no one thought it was weird that she wore layers of clothing and never short sleeves. It meant hot tea and warm fires and not being expected to go out on Gaston's boat. He always laughed when she said that she was seasick even on calm days, and said practice would make it better.

"I like to camp, most weekends. Sometimes it's too cold or the snow's too wet. Look," he pointed up, as a meteor shot across the sky. "I think it's supposed to be lucky to make a wish."

"I don't make wishes." She'd wished for her mama back, on every star and birthday candle until she was sixteen. That was the birthday when her father had taken her to New York to celebrate, with dinner at Le Bernardin and a room at the St. Regis. He'd said she was a woman after that, and not a child. She looked more and more like her mother every day, he'd said. Belle had quietly accepted then that nothing was ever going to change, and that wishes were pointless.

"The meteors are pretty, though." She didn't want to seem rude, not when he was being so kind to her. "Wouldn't it be nice to hold onto their tails and see what they see?"

"I'd rather have solid ground beneath my feet. I'm not much of one for heights, and neither is Wolf."

"You have a wolf?" She hadn't heard that right, had she?

"He's half wolf and technically half huskie, but he likes to pretend that half doesn't exist. He's not very good with other dogs, but with people he's a lamb. I rescued him after an underground dog fighting ring had been busted." They watched in silence, as more meteors shot across the sky, sometimes two and three at a time. They blazed, and then were gone. From the window they could only see a patch of sky. It might have been the trees obstructing part of their view that prompted Graham to speak again. "We might see more, from the windows in the lobby."

"I don't want to get you in trouble. I don't think Director Mills would approve." The sky might be a shade lighter, but it was still only five in the morning. She'd never been downstairs this early.

"Regina never gets in before eight; she takes Henry to school on her way in here." He shrugged, seemingly not worried about the Director's opinion. Belle thought the woman was terrifying, but that could have been the lingering effects of the nightmare. "We can stay here, if you'd rather. Or I can walk you back to your room."

"Not my room." She wasn't ready for that, not until it was necessary, tonight. She could make it through the day on the almost six hours of sleep she'd had. "I'd like to see more, from downstairs."

The lobby did offer a better and broader view. Belle stood at the middle window, one hand resting on the glass and the other in the pocket of the robe as she watched. She barely noticed the sky was lightening until she had to squint to make out the tail of a meteor.

"You're up early, dearie." Belle, somehow, wasn't surprised to hear Doctor Gold's voice. She was almost relieved. For all that she knew nothing in her nightmare could be real it had almost seemed prophetic; she'd been afraid that he really would be gone, and if he was gone then her father might show up and there would be no one to stop him.

"I couldn't sleep. Graham was keeping me company because I didn't want to go back to my room." She was less worried about getting Graham in trouble with Gold, but it seemed only fair that it was clear she was the reason they were in the lobby.

"That was very kind of him. If my company is as tolerable I was going to put a pot of tea on. I have croissants, just out of the oven, if you'd care to join us Graham." Belle wasn't quite sure what the look that passed between the two men signified, but Graham shook his head.

"Thanks, but I think I'd better make my rounds. I'll take a croissant though, if you don't mind." With a polite nod the orderly took his pastry and left. Gold led the way to his office, unlocking it with his key.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly as he filled an electric kettle with water. The teapot he'd been using the last few days was a different one from the one he'd used since she arrived. Belle wondered if he changed often, or if there was a reason to it.

"I didn't nap at all yesterday," she said, not wanting him to think she'd broken their deal.

"I know you didn't." The croissants he set out on two plates were still warm. The jam to took from his mini refrigerator was in a glass jar with a homemade label. His son's handiwork, he'd mentioned once when she asked. He didn't seem to do much cooking of his own, from the stories he told. "If you need a sleeping pill right now it would be understandable."

"No." Belle shook her head. Pills to sleep and pills not to hurt and pills to keep her from feeling too much; she'd taken so many pills that she was only just starting to understand that the fog she'd walked around in wasn't normal. "No, I can do this."

"Promise me that you'll remember that it's an option. There's no shame in needing help, Belle." He set a tea cup in front of her; she knew without asking that it already had honey added. "If it was anything other than insomnia you can talk about it with me."

"I'd rather hear about your son's pastry shop. Are there other people there so early in the morning?" She understood what he meant; it probably wasn't hard for him to guess that there was a nightmare involved. She'd told him of them before, but she was still wary of this one, as if speaking about it might make it come true.

"You promise to talk about it later if you need to?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"I promise." Later it might not feel so real. Then again later it might feel too real, and she might need to tell him so she could relax enough to sleep.

He nodded before visibly relaxing against the back of the couch. "Bailey's bakery is called The Queen of Tarts..."

II

Belle slept better that night, despite not telling Gold of her dream. She slept soundly enough, she was sure, that the dream had faded. Her anxiety had as well; she didn't have to peak around each corner before moving forward, and even crossed the lobby once when Regina was within sight. She ate her meals with Ruby and everyone, though they were small meals. She struggled to have any kind of appetite. Between her meals and her twice daily sessions with Gold, always served with something from the bakery, she was managing an acceptable amount of calories at least.

The second morning after the meteor shower Belle woke again from virtually the same nightmare. Her first thought, since it was almost seven, was to seek out Gold. A cup of tea might help calm her, and if she was brave enough she might tell him about the nightmare. She dressed quickly and ran a brush through her hair, braiding it as she ran down the stairs. And came up short.

Director Mills was standing in the middle of the lobby, and talking to her in the charcoal grey suit that Belle herself had picked out was her father.

"Belle." Moe held his hand out to her, as he had hundreds of times when she'd walked into a room to find him waiting. His business partners teased home about the affectionate gesture, but also told Belle what a loving father she had. Suffocating was a better word. "I've come to take you home, princess."

Belle stood, frozen, and looked around for someone to help her. It was early, though, and no one was in the lobby other that Mills, her father and herself. She didn't have a chance.

She was lost.