Chapter 9: Amelia

Belle and Adam grew closer and closer. They talked for hours on end, and Belle told him everything. Adam knew her favorite drink was hot chocolate, her favorite color was blue, and that she had her first crush when she was eight years old on a boy who was named Gavroche.

Belle wanted to know everything about the Beast as well, difficult though it was. It saddened her to know that something troubled Adam so greatly he could not seem to bear to talk about it, and though Belle longed to know what it was, she worried constantly that she would push too far and that she would ruin the friendship they had finally created.

She tried to believe him when he told her it was simply something he didn't like to talk about and that it had nothing to do with her, but a voice in the back of her mind constantly taunted her that perhaps he didn't trust her as willingly as she did him.

After all, she had told him painful memories herself, and while she had never gone into explicit detail of what her life with Gaston had been, she had never tried to hide it from him.

Yet all she had gained after several weeks of asking was that he liked tea in the mornings, his favorite color was the brownish red of Belle's hair, (Belle had giggled when he told her this), and that he hadn't gotten along with his father, though she didn't know why.

In the time she wasn't spending with her Beast or reading, Belle would often talk to Mrs. Potts and Lumiere. They were the servants she felt most comfortable with and she looked up to them in an odd sort of way as if they were her parents. Belle had never known her mother, but Mrs. Potts had treated Belle like her own child from the moment they met and Belle no longer felt she was missing that part of her life.

One day, while sitting with the Beast at lunchtime by their favorite spring, Belle interrupted their comfortable silence in which each was absorbed in their own thoughts.

"I know I haven't been here for more than a few months, but the last time I felt more at home anywhere was when my father was still alive. Everyone here... they're like the family I never had," she trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought with 'you're my family now,' or something equally as personal that would surely embarrass the both of them. "I just wanted to thank you... for giving me what I never thought I'd have again."

She looked down at her hands in her lap, flushing slightly though she was glad she had said it.

Adam shifted closer, their legs brushing as he settled beside her. He hesitantly reached out a hand, gently lifting her chin so her eyes met his own.

"This castle was never a home, not until the day you came," he said firmly, staring deeply into her eyes as if to ensure that she believed every word.

Belle smiled sadly and shook her head unbelieving; she knew he was saying this to make her feel better.

"No," he said, inching even closer to her face so that all she could see were his eyes and her vision was filled with ocean-blue pits. "It's the truth," he said, pleading with his gaze to trust his words.

Curiosity lightened the brown eyes and her eyebrows pursed together slightly in wonder. She still said nothing though seemed to trust his words now.

Suddenly, an idea seemed to light up her face and she sat up, a smile forming on her lips. "Perhaps we could invite Lumiere and Mrs. Potts to dine with us this evening?" she asked hopefully.

Adam smiled at the excitement on her face and nodded.

...

That evening, dinner was loud and full of heartfelt conversation. Mrs. Potts and Lumiere would playfully bicker at times, always with large smiles on their faces and one simply couldn't contain the giddy laughter that the evening evoked.

Wine was served and long after they had finished their meals, they still continued to drink, finishing more than a bottle between the four of them.

"I loved that boy since the moment he was born. He was always such a nice boy, always stepping around the ant lines instead of trudging his way through like most children. When he was little, he used to catch a ladybug or beetle and bring it over to me. 'Now don't hurt it,' he would say. 'just look.'" Her eyes shone with happiness at the memory, fondly gazing at Adam who was seated to her left, Belle across the table from him.

She reached over and patted his hand lovingly, eyes welling with love.

"After my mother died, Mrs. Potts practically raised my sister and I." Adam smiled fondly at the old woman, squeezing her hand in two of his own. But the Beast didn't realize his error until it was too late.

"Your sister?"

The room seemed to drop to frosty temperatures, everyone present instantly sober from the words Belle spoke. Tension and confusion radiated off of her, wondering why he had hid her existence from her. And what she had done for him not to trust her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she murmured quietly, the shock beginning to fade from her eyes leaving only hurt and betrayal behind.

"Not now, Belle, please. If you hadn't noticed, we have company," said the Beast coldly.

As soon as he said it though, Mrs. Potts and Lumiere stood from their seats and silently walked out of the room, taking the dishes with them.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she repeated louder this time, anger beginning to filter through the sorry.

Adam's expression was a mixture of discomfort and exasperation. "It's not something I like to talk about," he said finally, a cold distance forming between them at his tone.

"Even to me?" Belle asked, her tone broken and wounded at the harshness of the truth.

"Yes, especially to you! Don't you get it? You can't get to know me, not that part of me. I'm dangerous, I'm bad for you. What do I have to do to get you to understand that?" Adam was shouting now, and he hadn't realized he had stood and walked over to Belle until he was towering over her.

Belle looked frightened but her fear for once was quickly replaced by anger. She stood too, looking the Beast squarely in the eyes.

"I'm so tired of you closing yourself off to me. You've said you want to be my friend but that is a two way street. I've told you everything there is to know about me, even the things I had never told anyone before, the things I don't like talking about!" she quoted his earlier words. "I don't know what I can do to earn your trust." She softened her tone a little and said, "I'm not going to judge you or hate you because of your past. I know who you are now and that's what matters."

Belle extended a hand, hoping to reach for Adam's but he pulled away from her. Again.

"Perhaps I am naive for thinking you felt the same for me as I do you. I'm sorry for ruining your dinner," she said and without another word, she nodded, avoiding his gaze laced with shame and guilt and exited the room.

"Wait, Belle, I'm sorry..." but she was already gone, leaving the Beast to his own miserable thoughts.

...

Belle changed from her dinner clothes into something more comfortable, namely the only dress that she had brought from her village, the one she had worn to the castle. She walked over to the library for a new book, wanting to distract herself from the fact they wouldn't be reading together that night, but nothing caught her eye. She scanned each shelf, feeling the many spines of all the books until one captured her attention: Romeo and Juliet.

She picked it up, looking at it thoughtfully as a flood of memories surged through her, and decided to curl up in the armchair next to the window, the place she had sat the first time she read in the grand library.

She had been tempted to sit on the floor next to the fire where she usually sat with Adam. She told herself it was because she wanted to avoid being seen for the time being, but secretly she knew it was because the place was empty without him.

The Beast found her there, so absorbed in her book she hadn't heard him approach. Then he caught sight of the title; the first book they had ever read together.

He sat down on the floor next to her and rested his head on her knee. Belle cautiously ignored him and continued to read, trying to allow him to be the first one to speak.

"Her name was Amelia."

Startled by the broken silence, Belle looked up, both cautious and curious.

"She had reddish hair, like my mother's, and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen. She was an angel sent from heaven... I used to think she was a gift from God." Belle remained silent, not wanting to discourage him from talking. She was now certain that the painting of the little girl in Adam's private quarters was little Amelia.

"My mother died giving birth, but not before she was able to hold Amelia in her arms. My mother's last words were 'she was worth it.' Amelia was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was so full of life, so kind and gentle. And so beautiful. I was worried I would have to beat the boys away with a stick when she got older," he chuckled sadly. "She was six when she died." Adam suddenly sobbed, overwhelmed with emotion. "I don't know... I don't know why they took her away," he choked out, his throat tight with emotion.

He had never told anyone about her, and it was with great difficulty that he recounted her story to Belle. He threw an arm over his face, trying to hide his emotions. Then he felt a small hand, rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm sure she was lovely." Belle didn't know what else to say. She was glad he had finally revealed something about his past but it saddened her to see him so broken.

When the silent, wracking sobs stilled, Belle took his hand and squeezed. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me." She continued to stroke his arm, hoping to put into the touch what she could not with words. Hesitantly, she asked, "How did she die?"

Adam just shook his head, he couldn't share anymore, he worried that if she knew about his father she would realize he had become the same man, that whatever strange trust she had in him would dissipate when she discovered his past.

Belle just squeezed his hand once more and picked up the book. She knew her own words would not ease the horrific grief though she knew something had to be said.

"Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars, From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you, The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss, A dateless bargain to engrossing death."