Please note, there is a domestic abuse trigger warning on this chapter.

The Enchanted Forest, two months pre-curse

Belle and her maid Nora had been over everything they could think of to try to get her out of the wedding. She'd at least reached a point where she didn't have to pretend to like Sir Guy, but that was small comfort when she had another two weeks of freedom before she was expected to wed the man.

Belle had been over all the potential escape routes a thousand times by now, and even having Nora on her side wouldn't be enough to get her out of the castle and into the woods. Once she was there, she had enough faith in the survival skills Mulan had taught her that she was pretty sure she could escape into a neighboring country. She thought King Midas might give her shelter. He'd been a one-time ally of her father's (back when King Leopold was alive, anyway) and she and Princess Abigail had been friendly during Belle's visits to court. The relationship had only turned sour after her father had sided so publicly with Queen Regina and Midas had thrown his support behind Prince James and Princess Snow White. If she couldn't find safety there, Belle was sure there were any number of places she could go. Her father had burned many bridges because of all this, and she was sure that even with the stain of Rumpelstiltskin upon her there would be plenty of people who would take her in as an example to Regina. She just had to get out of the city first.

After much debate, there was really only one place Belle thought she could turn. Her family had a patron fairy, though she'd never seen her before. Her father hadn't trusted them, and had raised her with a healthy mistrust of the entire species – he'd even preferred dealing with the Dark One over calling on the fairies, which had told Belle everything she needed to know.

But her father wasn't to be trusted now, and Belle had no other recourse as she stood on her balcony in the chill night air. She found the star she was looking for, and she wished.

"Oops!" she heard from behind her, and she turned to see a thin woman in a fluffy pink confection of a dress stumbling a little. No, she amended to herself, it wasn't a woman. This was a fairy.

"You – you're my family's patron fairy?" Belle couldn't help asking. She'd somehow expected someone...more.

"Oh, no," the fairy said with an apologetic smile. "All the senior fairies are very busy with fairy business. So it's just me, I'm afraid. I'm the Pink Fairy, but you can call me Nova."

Nova was still smiling so hard Belle was worried she might hurt something, but she could also tell the fairy was trying to make a good impression.

"Can you help me?" Belle asked her, because really that was the only important thing. "Can you help me escape?"

"Well..." Nova's smile began to falter here. "I'm supposed to tell you to be patient because good things come to those who wait."

"That's terrible advice!" Belle blurted out. "My father wants me to marry a man who will harm me in two weeks. I already waited months trying to find my own way out. I can't wait anymore."

"Oh, that's awful!" Nova exclaimed, putting her hands over her mouth in her shock. "Why would he do that?"

"He thinks I'm cursed," Belle admitted. "Regina – the Evil Queen – told him that Rumpelstiltskin cursed me to love him, but he didn't! He didn't curse me. I loved him on my own and now..."

Belle collapsed onto the chaise near her bed, all her energy having left her after that outburst. She found herself becoming more and more exhausted by hiding all the time. She just wanted to be free. Was that really so wrong?

"That's silly," Nova said as she came to sit with Belle. "You can't make someone love you through magic. If you could, there wouldn't be a magic user alive who was ever lonely."

She turned away, and Belle pretended not to see the glistening in her eyes.

"I'm not supposed to help you," Nova said slowly, and Belle could sense a 'but' coming. "But you're not cursed, Belle. And don't let anyone tell you that you're wrong for being in love. No matter who it's with. It's never wrong."

"Then what do I do?"

Nova took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"There is a way..."

Storybrooke, 2001

Monday went much as Lacey had expected. She woke with Gold, seeing him off to the shop before calling in to take a personal day from work. True to his word, Gold called Dove and sent him to get her before lunch time. He took her to her old place, and she spent a few hours packing up the things she wanted to take with her to her new life.

There was a depressingly small amount worth taking, honestly. She had already replaced all her toiletries, and aside from her collection of lipsticks, none of her makeup was really worth saving, either – she could buy better things anyway (and probably should if Gold intended to continue to take her nice places). By the time she finally had everything sorted, her clothes took up two suitcases carried by Dove and she held a small box containing a jeweled mirror that had belonged to her mother, her jewelry box, a picture of her and her father, and a few other sentimental keepsakes. Everything else either wasn't worth holding onto or had too much Brad associated with it.

Gold had asked her to be home when he returned from work at five-thirty, and she'd burned up most of her free time already by the time Brad returned home from work.

Dove had taken her suitcases to the car, leaving Lacey alone upstairs with her box of sentimental items when Brad finally walked in. He did a double take when he saw her standing in the living room doing a quick survey to make sure she'd not forgotten anything.

"Well, well, well," he said with a strange little smile on his face. "Looks like he got sick of you after all."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He'd clearly just gotten off work at the docks before coming home – he was still wearing his uniform and his arms were streaked with grime.

Be above it, she reminded herself. Her one refuge was in audacity, and he didn't know that she wasn't here alone. She was safe.

"The opposite, actually," she said flippantly. "He's asked me to move in."

Well, he had suggested she stay while she look for another place, but that was close enough.

"So you're his whore now," Brad said perfectly calmly. "Gotta say, I didn't think the old bastard had it in him. Or I guess technically, he had it in you."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't flinch. She just had to get past him and through the door and she could go back to Gold and safety and security. She was five feet away from freedom.

"So what's it like?" he said as he moved from the doorway to approach her. Lacey took an instinctive step back, moving herself further into the room and further away from freedom. "What's it like fucking a guy old enough to be your dad? Does everything still work?"

She knew Gold wouldn't want her to respond to that, but pride and some protective instinct refused to listen to him talking shit like that.

"Everything works perfectly," she let innuendo drip from the last word and knew he took her meaning when she saw him clench his jaw. She was playing a dangerous game, but she'd never been able to stop herself with him, never been able to hold her temper in check even when she probably should have.

And now, she realized, she didn't have to.

"You should probably see if he could give you any pointers," she said as she started circling slowly, trying to get a clear path to the door.

"I never heard any complaints out of you," he spat out. "I actually remember you being pretty pleased."

"Well then, I guess you and I remember things a little differently," she was getting close to the door now, but he'd been circling with her and it would be a tight squeeze to sneak past him without help. "I broke up with you for a reason."

He chuckled a little.

"Oh come on, Lacey," he was blocking her way again. "You and I both know that wouldn't have stuck. Face it, babe, we were good together."

He moved closer to her as he spoke, backing her against a wall and holding her chin in his hand.

"We were always a shitty match," she tried to keep her voice even as she spoke, but she felt fear beginning to squeeze at her chest. "And I'm getting the fuck away from you."

"You'll be back," he replied. "You always come back. Come on, let's just talk about this."

"I'm through talking," she said simply. "Let me go, I'm leaving."

He pulled back and she flinched as he slammed his fist into the wall next to her head.

"God dammit, Lacey!" he screamed, blood beginning to weep from the places his knuckles had split on the drywall. "You always do this!"

"Do what?" she yelled back. "I always stand up for myself? Don't let you bully me into staying?"

"Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?" he retorted. "I let you stay here, I took care of you, all I ever asked was some goddamn respect!"

"If you want my respect then you should earn it," she shot back. "You're an asshole and a failure and I'm sorry I ever met you."

"What, so just because I'm not some fucking rich bastard who can pay you to spread your legs that makes me a failure?"

"No, the fact that you've been living in this shit-hole of a town since high school because you never wanted anything better makes you a failure!"

"Then why are you still here, huh?" he had his hands on either side of her body, trapping her between him and the wall. She held her box against her chest, it was her last line of defense between them. "What does that make you? Because you always fucking want shit, Lacey, and you don't have any of it. Nothing is ever good enough for you!"

She didn't answer, because she knew what that made her. He was right: she was a whore. She wanted out, and Gold was the one guy in town who could maybe make that happen and she would give him whatever the hell he wanted if he would just take her with him. But – and this was the thing – she didn't think that made her a bad person. She had never once lied to him, never once mislead him. Gold knew exactly what this was. No matter how well they might dance around admitting the truth, they both knew why he wanted her and why she wanted him. It might be pure commerce, but at least neither one of them was playing the other one.

In Lacey's opinion, there was a big difference in morality between having sex with a guy you were fond of and who was good to you because he could afford to protect you and a guy bullying a girl into sticking around because he couldn't admit to himself that she didn't want him anymore. At this point, it wasn't even about not wanting Brad. She hated him a little more each day, and hated herself for not being strong enough to walk away. Well, here she was walking away.

"Maybe I am a whore," she finally said. "And a bitch, and a slut and whatever else you want to call me because you don't want to admit the truth. But the truth is I'm leaving, Brad. You can scream and yell and break whatever the hell you feel like breaking, but I'm through. We're through."

"We're not over until I say we are," he shouted. His face was close enough that his breath wafted over her and she squeezed her eyes shut because she didn't want to see his face. She didn't want to see the blow when it came, and she was sure he was going to hit her.

He didn't hit her, though. And eventually she became aware that she didn't feel smothered by his body heat, either. She slowly opened her eyes and almost fainted with relief. Dove was holding Brad's wrist above his head. He'd clearly grabbed the other man in the process of taking a swing at her.

"Stay out of this, Dove," Brad finally growled. "It's between me and Lacey. What are you even doing here, anyway?"

"He's here to take me home," she said when Dove didn't reply right away. "Here's the thing about money, Brad, maybe it doesn't buy happiness but it sure as hell doesn't hurt."

"You ready to leave?" Dove said to Lacey.

"I am," she replied, drawing herself up to her full height. "Goodbye, Brad."

Dove didn't join her until she was out the door and into the hallway. She heard something smashing from old apartment and she was sure that it was probably something she'd left behind, but she hadn't left anything she ever wanted to see again anyway. Let him rant and rave and destroy his living room. She had greener pastures and she never, ever wanted to darken this door ever again. That was her promise to herself, that she'd never go back.