In Shadow

Chapter 14

The Secret Passage

WARNING – While the entire story is not M rated (obviously), this part most definitely is. This did not turn out the way I planned.

The four friends were sitting comfortably around a glowing fire that Gaston had started upon their arrival. As it had been several hours, the sitting room they occupied was quite toasty. He had also built fires in two of the rooms on the second floor. One for the girls, which had an outer sitting room meant for reading and a bedroom just beyond with a door that locked. Very much like a one room flat. Off the bedroom was a bathing area with an enormous copper tub and a chamber pot that Belle had been assured she did not have to empty in the morning.

The boys needs, on the other hand, were fairly simple. They occupied a room down the hall, across the landing of the stairs. The door was open and Belle could see two sleeping blankets laid out near the fire. When she had asked why they didn't sleep in the bed, Clem had laughed, stating that he wouldn't want Gaston to molest him in his sleep.

Belle and Lydia had laughed themselves sick until Gaston glowered at all of them. They had collected a deck of cards and were deeply into a game of All Fours. Lydia was winning ...as she had the last four times they'd played. Gaston threw his cards down, got up from the floor and offered Belle a hand. "Would you like a tour?"

She was torn. While she didn't particularly care for All Fours, it also felt like there would be safety in numbers. He did not push or ask again, but simply stood in silence, waiting for her to give him an answer. It was this patience that convinced her to take his hand and agree to take a walk.

Clem collected the cards and began to shuffle them as Belle and Gaston left the room. "You kids behave yourselves now."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Right. That'll happen."

Her fiance glanced at the doorway to be sure the others were gone and out of earshot, and then looked over at Lydia. He seemed concerned. "Really, sweetie? You can't see it?"

She made a face. "See what?"

Clem sighed heavily. "I thought women were supposed to be more intuitive than men."

"We are. I just wasn't paying attention. What's going on?"

The man sighed, and reached over to grab his girl and pull her into his lap. They, like Belle and Gaston, had been introduced when Lydia was only 13, just over three years ago. Lydia would be turning 16 two days after Belle turned 14. He knew how lucky he was to have this woman in his life. They had always had an easy and comfortable relationship. "You know me, Lyd. I don't like to see women stared at like their sides of beef."

Lydia turned her head so she could look into his face. "Is Gaston watching her like that?"

"Like he wants to eat her for lunch ..." he paused, checked his pocket watch, and added, "Okay, dinner." He ran a hand through recalcitrant blonde hair and tried to organize his thoughts. "She is very new to this whole 'engaged to be married' thing. I remember how nervous you were when you met me, and I was only three years older than you. Gaston and Belle ...what are they, six years apart? I would bet money that he will try to push her farther than he should. You know how he is, Lyd. He thinks he's the most amazing man in the realm."

Lydia stifled a laugh. "Yes he does have a rather high opinion of himself. Should we go look for them?" She knew Clemson. If he was concerned, then there was a good reason for it.

He thought about it carefully and finally nodded. "Yeah, let's get them both back into the group atmosphere we had earlier. Are you keeping tabs on how much Whiskey he's been throwing back?"

Lydia looked guilty. "No. I forgot."

"Well, that's probably a good thing. If he was drinking a lot, we would have noticed," Clem said, standing up and drawing her to her feet. He placed a soft kiss on her nose. "I am grateful each and every day that I have you."

Lydia stroked his cheek gently. 'No more that I am."

Clem took her hand and they walked out of the nice, warm sitting room to begin their search. Clem had a bad feeling. He just hoped they would find them in time.

#

Belle and Gaston walked casually down the hallway in a separate part of the mansion. He had grinned mischievously, showing her the servants stairwell and explaining that he many times came down to the kitchen to steal something sweet, and that he never failed to get caught by the servant who lived there. He started to add that the woman was just as sweet as anything the kitchen had to offer, but schooled his tongue. He was trying really hard not to overwhelm Belle. She had made it very clear that his kisses were not welcome and he had been pissed all to hell for several days until he had given it some thought. He had tried to kiss her the very first time they had gone anywhere together alone. Of course she was disturbed, she probably thought him a pervert. Why his father felt it necessary to pair him with a girl so young was beyond him, but he would do what he was asked because that was his nature. It didn't mean that he couldn't try to enjoy it.

He pulled Belle along a narrow rise of stairs that led to a solid wall of books. She gasped, and he grinned, pulling one of the books out and pushing the heavy door out of the way. When he turned back around, expecting her to be delighted at the secret passage, he found her trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. "Belle?"

She shook her head, as if she'd been in a trance. "Sorry. What?"

"Isn't this cool?"

Belle looked at the door quizzically and finally nodded. What else was she to do? He was clearly proud of the fact that he knew the passage was there, and while it held absolutely no fascination for her, Bob had told her that relationships were a series of compromises. If each person clung to their own personal desires and needs, without allowing the other some eccentricities, the relationship would not last.

She remembered the sadness in his voice when he'd admitted that he had learned this after his wife had left him. Well, not so much sadness as disappointment in himself. For whatever reason, he seemed to think that if he had simply been willing to do what she asked of him, even if those things were a death sentence, she might have stayed to raise Baelfire. He was adamant that a child needed a mother. He had tried to be both to his young son, but there were things a feminine touch could give the boy that he simply could not.

Belle followed Gaston into the passageway and he lit torches along the walls, pulling the door closed and motioning her to walk ahead of him. She felt uneasy. It had been months ...nearly a year actually, since she had felt this vulnerable. Why were they walking in a dark, dank passageway?

His voice echoed off the walls. "When I was younger, this is where me and my friends would come to be with our girls."

Belle swallowed nervously. "Really? That's ...uhm ...nice, I guess."

"Let me show you," he said gruffly and turned her around, pulling her against his chest. He made no other move but to tuck her head under his chin and stand there holding her. "See? Isn't this nice?"

She tried to nod, but couldn't because she lacked the room. It was, actually, very nice. Especially here, in the dark, where she could imagine that it was Bob and not Gaston who was combing his fingers through her hair. Belle had no idea how she was supposed to act. Was this supposed to be exciting? Comforting? Was it supposed to make her want to be closer to him, because if that was the case, it simply wasn't happening. She got her hands in between them and pushed against his chest.

He took a step back and sighed. Alcohol made his tongue looser than it would normally have been. "Look, Belle. I get that you don't feel anything for me. I really do, but you're going to have to learn to tolerate it. And while I had hoped that time would allow for more than just a marriage of convenience, I can see that there is nothing I can do. Damn, most women would think me a pretty good catch."

"I don't mean to insult you Gaston, honestly. Whatever is supposed to be there for two people who are going to be married ...it just isn't there." Belle stopped when she saw the anger begin to fill his face.

He stepped back into her personal space and said, "Well, fucking get used to it," before he crushed his mouth down on hers, pressing with his tongue until she had no choice but to open to him lest he bite her. Belle closed her eyes. She could feel the tears itching behind her eyelids as he began to run his hands over her body.

He pulled back long enough to take a breath, and then kissed her again, more forcefully, with anger building inside him. Belle didn't know where this was going, but she knew it was no where good.

When he pulled her dress up and ran his fingers up her stomach to her breast, she stifled a sob. She didn't want this. Not with him ...not ever. She felt so violated and ashamed that she couldn't function except to try to remain on her feet. Gaston was making soft, appreciative noises in the back of his throat as his fingers dug into her sensitive flesh. There was no pleasure involved. He was clearly not going to back off this time and she had no idea how to make him stop. She squirmed against him, trying to push against his chest, but he was bigger and stronger, and in the end, she had no way to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted. He walked her backwards until her back came into contact with the passage wall and then pressed his knee against her most sensitive part, trying to get her to open her legs wider.

Belle was nauseous, horrified, frightened and yet she somehow knew that the reason he had brought her here was because if she began to scream, no one would hear her. She struggled again, pushing against his chest, trying to turn her head away from his demanding lips but it wasn't doing her any good. He was enormous compared to her. She didn't have a chance in hell of stopping this. "Please, Gaston. Stop!"

He didn't seem to hear her. One of his hands had burrowed under all of her underclothing and attached to her naked breast. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

Belle didn't know what happened. One moment he was crushing her against the wall, and the next his weight was lifted as if he were a straw doll and he was tossed a good five feet, striking the other wall with a sickening thump.

She stared into the darkness, trying to figure out who was there, but she couldn't see. She heard several grunts, whispered words, a moan and then one of the two of them straightened and turned toward her. She stiffened, fear coursed through her, and her heart was pounding in her ears.

The figure came closer and reached out for her. She flinched away. "Belle? Sweetheart? It's me. It's Bob."

Belle began to weep with relief. She had no idea how he'd gotten here or how he'd know she was here, but she didn't care. He approached carefully, unsure if he would be welcome until Belle threw herself into his arms, sobbing. He did nothing else but hold her against him, letting her weep, knowing that it would cleanse her soul of what had happened here. He wanted desperately to ask her how far that bastard had managed to get, but now was not the time. Perhaps later, when she was home and safely tucked away in her own bed.

He reached down slowly and tilted her chin up so he would know she was listening. "Belle?"

She buried her face in his chest. "Is he dead?"

"Do you want him dead?" he asked, and Belle could tell that he was not joking.

It took her several minutes to form an answer that wasn't 'Yes, please kill him.' At that moment, in that dank passageway, devoid of dignity, she would happily have watched him die, but she knew when the shock wore off, she would regret any hasty actions she made now. "No, but I don't want to be here anymore."

"I'm going to take you home, okay?" Bob's voice was deeper than usual, his accent thicker.

All Belle could do was nod. She didn't care how she got there, she just wanted to go home.

She felt a gust of wind, harsh and scratchy, as if she was caught in a sandstorm. She kept her eyes closed tight, but could still see purple behind her eyelids. He was using magic ...on both of them. On any other day, under any other circumstance, she might have refused, but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Just as she was beginning to think her skin would start flaking off, the sensation ceased and she opened her eyes. She was in her own room. Her book with the blue silk ribbon lay on her reading table, her fireplace was out. Bob flicked a hand in the general direction of the hearth, and it erupted in flames as he lay her gently in bed.

"Kick off your shoes, sweetheart. And if you can get the dress part of all your clothing off, I think you can probably sleep in the rest of it. I'm afraid the dress is probably ruined. I'm sorry."

Belle pulled her tattered dress over her head and threw it toward the fire. "It doesn't matter. I don't want it or ...or ..." she motioned at her various petticoats and underthings.

Bob nodded. "Where is your nightgown?"

Belle was staring straight ahead, fear etched on every line of her face. Bob cleared his throat, trying not to startle her. "Sweetheart?"

"What?" She snapped at him and then realize who was with her and apologized.

He waved it off. "I think you're entitled to a few blow ups right now. Where is your nightgown. I'll retrieve it if you want to change."

Belle sighed. "In my bag...which is back at the ...at ...at his house."

"It's fine. Use this one." He pulled his hand out from behind his back and offered her another gown. It was blue silk, like the ribbon in her book. She didn't even have the energy to ask where it came from. She took it gratefully and slipped into her bathing room. She turned before she closed the door. "Will you stay? Please?"

He nodded. "I'm not going anywhere, Belle. I promise."

Rumplestiltskin took up post just outside the bathing room door and stood there smoldering. What he had been able to do to that boy had not been nearly enough. In fact, the only reason he was alive was because Belle wished it to be so. He needed her to hurry up so he could tuck her safely in bed or he was going to flash out of here, turn that sorry bastard into a pile of dirt, and flash back. The door opened and he didn't waste any time. He swept Belle into his arms and deposited her in bed. She reached out and grasped his hand, holding on for dear life. It was a testament to how upset she was that she didn't complain about his cloak and hood.

"Am I going to get in trouble?" Belle's voice was soft and suddenly she sounded like the 13 year-old (almost 14) that she was.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. You haven't done anything wrong." Even if that ridiculous excuse for a knight said anything about the incident, he knew he could take care of it. It was comforting to know that his magic could be used not only to hurt and intimidate, but also to give help and aid to the woman he loved.