Chapter 21

Belle too had lost her solid grasp on time. She knew it had to be about less than a week until full moon, but anything else was too uncertain to put a finger on. She had been wandering around the castle for what felt like days, but it could be just a matter of hours. The sun was her only source for telling time and with the thorough depravation of light, she experienced in here, she lost that. Sometimes she would ascend to higher levels just to look at the sun. Every time she caught either a sunrise or a sunset, she thought to herself: But why don't I just leave? And then she thought of Red. She might have told her to leave, but neither of them had anticipated the situation they were in now. At least Belle didn't think so. This was extreme circumstances and Belle couldn't just leave her stuck in the dungeons with Rumpelstiltskin and his evil second soul. God only knew what it was capable of.

But it wasn't just those selfless reasons that drove her though. It was the thought of Red's intense looks whenever they had eye contact and the gentle touch of her hands. The exhilarating feeling of kissing her. That moment they had just outside, the urgency she had felt and made Red feel, brought out by a simple kiss. Thinking back Belle remembered mostly that urgency, the vague sense of fright she had felt along with that special heat had subsided to the back of her mind. She wanted Red back and out of here. For herself as much as for the girl's own sake. Belle sighed as she learned this. She was in too deep and she knew it.

She thought of Rumple too. Not the man he had become now under the immense influence of the second soul, but the good man beneath the layers of anger and madness, the one she had come to know before. She wanted that man back too. Belle knew now that she didn't want him back quite the way she wanted Red, but she wanted to see him freed of this weight. Freed of the bad part of himself. Freed of the second soul. Only then could she truly leave here and not feel like she was running away.

At least food was no longer a critical problem. With help from her new friend she had found a stock in the basement beneath the kitchen. This was a stock much larger than the one kept in the small room beside the kitchen, the one she had been using during her short stay. Now that she thought about it, he had shown her this larger stock once during her first month, but back then she had been so preoccupied with the sudden change and Rumpelstiltskin's attitude and a behavior, which was so overwhelmingly different from everyone else's, that its location had slipped her mind. That rarely happened.

She had remembered it again the day before yesterday – or was it yesterday? – when her stomach was growling and she complained out loud. She felt stupid for not remembering it sooner; then she would never have had to risk her health for a meal.

"I don't want to go back to that kitchen, do you?" She had said to the bench. She was met by the usual silence. They were once again sitting outside Baelfire's room, because Belle was certain, if she spent enough time here, she would eventually find out, where he was hiding the book. Now her empty stomach demanded her attention, but the thought of risking her life for another meal didn't feel too appealing. "I'm just so hungry."

The bench had suddenly tapped its food on the floor and started walking. Belle hurried after it, as it led her back through the castle, walking in its own clumsy fashion.

"Where are you taking me?" Belle asked in the same voice she would use for a dog, who would be just as unlikely to offer her an answer. It led her out of the right wing it seemed, but they didn't cross the entrance hall this time. It must be leading her around the back. Down here was no light at all and Belle could do nothing but listen to the sound of the two-parted knocking of the bench' steps, concentrating on it so she wouldn't hear anything else. She had never used this way before even though she knew it was a short-cut. She hadn't used it for just this reason: It was too dark. Memories started creeping and slipped through her concentrated ears.

"Mommy help me", Belle remembered an eight year old version of herself say in a small voice. She had been sitting behind a large wooden box, which content she didn't know and half hidden by a porcelain statue they had put down there earlier that year. It was a gift from a neighboring kingdom, they had gotten years back and it had now been replaced by a new one. It was supposed to be a statue of Maurice, Belle's dad. Her mom always thought it looked dreadful and was pleased to have it removed. Belle had been hiding behind it because she thought she saw a rat, which she had fled from.

"Belle, honey where are you, I can't see you? My light went out."

"I'm over here mommy!" She had tried to wave, but it was almost pitch black and any visual guidance was useless.

"Keep talking Belle, I'll get to you."

"It the rat gone?"

"It ran away as soon as it saw you, dear. Oh!" Her mom sounded like she was tripping over something.

"What happened mommy?" Belle, tugged in between the box and the statue, couldn't see her mom anywhere, only hear her voice somewhere to the dark. Even direction held no meaning in the darkness.

"It's just slippery, dear. We need to get the maids down here and-" Her voice had suddenly broken off and a loud crash of another porcelain ornament falling to the ground shook the entire room. Belle had then heard her mother gasp, followed by a hollow crack and then silence.

"Mommy, are you okay?" She had called out immediately, but received no answer. For a while she sat like that, trying to listen, but she might as well be alone in there. "Mommy?" She called again in a shaken voice as tears filled her little eyes. In that age time felt like a different size and to young Belle it had felt like she was sitting behind that statue the entire day, repeatedly calling for her mom, but it had most likely been a matter of hours before Pierre, her favorite of her parents' servants had called out her name. She saw the light shining from the lamp he had brought. She only heard him gasp as he had discovered her mom. Belle never saw it, because Pierre had found her then, held her up and told her to close her eyes and keep them closed until they were out. When Belle had asked why, he told her that her mom was hurt and she shouldn't see that. The next time she saw her mom, she was cleaned up and lying in an open coffin. Belle was grateful now that she was able to remember her like that. She just couldn't bear seeing that pale, lifeless face every time she was in this position, trapped in the dark. Halfway through the corridor it had become too much for her.

"Stop please, I can't. I have to go back, it's too dark." The knocking stopped. Then became louder as the bench returned to her. It walked so close it knocked into her legs just above the knees, almost knocking her over. "Watch out", she whispered, as it did it again. And again. Belle finally understood that it wanted her to sit on it. Belle hesitated for a moment, but did so. The thought of holding onto something living – even if it was just in the strange sense this bench was living – always calmed her down. The cold upholstery of the bench' back cushion wasn't as comforting as Red's hand and her supernatural warmth had been, but it helped nonetheless. The pale face faded away and the cries ebbed out of her head as she focused on the strange experience it was to sit on the bench, as it started walking again. Soon she had found herself recognizing features of the left wing. Less ornamentation, less colors, the colder atmosphere. The light returned to its subdued standard and she welcomed it, relieved to be out. She got off the bench again and patted it on edge that she was beginning to consider as the head of her strange stray dog.

"Thank you. Now where to?"

The bench walked again and she recognized the corridor leading to the kitchen.

"I thought we didn't want to go back there?" The bench kept walking. Before the light of the kitchen became more than a glimmer down the end of the corridor, the bench turned and stopped in front of a door. Belle reached out a hand, hesitant to open it and that was when she remembered it. The large reserve stock. It contained all kinds of foods that didn't need cooking and Belle could finally eat enough to reach a level of complete satiety.

Since then they had visited the stock twice a day or at least Belle thought so. It was a large room on the basement level, stuffed wall to wall with shelves of foods with long shelf lives. Different kinds of bread too and these still looked good. It was close to pitch black at places, but it seemed her hunger for once outmatched her anxiety. The presence of the bench helped her too. Belle eagerly helped herself to meal after meal and the bench just stood in the middle of the room, watching her every time. She had more than once wondered why Rumpelstiltskin did nothing to prevent her from eating his food, but she was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that she wasn't the guest of honor. Red was. She didn't understand why Rumple took such interest in her. She did at no point consider that he was choosing Red over her as a romantic statement, not with the look he had given her, when they found him in his chambers. It wasn't that. She wasn't even sure Rumpelstiltskin was capable of any sort of romantic emotion with his current state of mind. No, it had to be something else. It must have to do with the wolf. It must be of reasons only the second soul understood, she couldn't fathom what Rumple, as the man she knew, would want with her. Belle now more than ever regretted the destruction of the library. She knew there was a book about his sort of powers in there too. Or maybe in his study. She needed more information about him. Some new knowledge on the subject of werewolves wouldn't hurt either. She hated not knowing and right now she had no idea what state Red was in. What had Rumpelstiltskin's control done to her? She recalled Red's blank stare, when he tore her heart out and held it up in front of her. Was her heart the reason he kept her? Belle didn't understand, but she was determined to get to the bottom of it. And time was a critical issue, with the full moon closing in.

Belle had found a candle and a couple of matches stashed in the stock too, probably for this particular purpose: Finding the right food, when the light wasn't working. Now she had placed the candle on the ground and sat against the wall staring at it. She tried not to focus on how this light made the surrounding darkness seem even thicker. The bench didn't like the open flame and honestly she couldn't blame it, but it stayed as close to her as it seemingly dared. Her stray dog was a loyal one it appeared. Belle kept thinking that she should offer her wooden friend something, but repeatedly reminded herself that it wasn't an actual dog. It might seem just as alive at times, but it didn't eat. When full Belle sighed and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for just a second. In a minute she would get up, get out of here and plan out her next move for finding the book.

That was when a tortured scream, distant but still quite audible, ripped through the silence and made Belle's blood turn to ice. It spoke of such intense agony it broke a piece off of Belle's heart even before her mind recognized the voice.

Red, she thought, too shocked to speak out loud, as her heart started pounding faster and a lump gathered in her throat. Never had the girl sounded so vulnerable and so tortured. Belle scrambled to her feet and spun around herself, trying to understand where it was coming from. Red was still screaming somewhere out there and it sounded like something was tearing her in half, ripping her apart piece by piece. Belle eyes filled with tears and she pushed herself against the wall she had been sitting up against. The sound came from behind that.

Red where are you?!

Then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun and silence fell upon the room again. Darkness too and Belle realized she had kicked the candle away in her frantic search for Red. She sat still in the dark for a moment, panting, as if her body was responding physically to the pain, Red had felt, and she felt the tears run down her cheeks. Belle tried to think. She must still be in the dungeons. They were located in the left wing too and this room must be closing right up to it. Still her screaming had to be loud to penetrate the thick walls. Rumpelstiltskin was torturing her. She had to think that sentence twice to understand. He's torturing her. Was there really nothing left of the man she had known and loved? The man who wasn't cruel by nature, but merely broken by his wife's betrayal? For just a moment Belle experienced the closest thing she had ever come to loathing a human being. In that moment she hated him. She hated Rumple for letting this evil inhuman thing inhabit his body and causing him to do this.

The screaming started again, louder this time if possible. Red must be screaming at the top of her lungs. Belle's knowledge of Red being in pain was limited to that grimace on her face, when Belle had cleaned her wound and changed her bandage, but this was miles from that. Worlds of agony away from it. Belle could almost hear the panic in her voice.

"Red…" She cried, hugging the wall as if it would somehow bring her closer to the girl withering in agony somewhere behind those layers of stone. All she wanted in that moment was for her pain to go away, to hold her and stroke her hair and tell her it was all going to be okay. But it sounded so far from. As Belle listened, the scream grew harsher, more feral and closer to the sound of the howling wolf before it died down all together. Belle sat by the wall, kneeling in front of it for hours thereafter, listening for the sound of Red with her trembling hands flat against the wall and her forehead resting against it, only praying no more screams would come.

Belle kicked the sturdy, stubborn wardrobe when it still refused to move. It didn't slam its door in her face now, but merely ignored her, mocking her weakness. Her fresh set of tears were guided by anger and frustrations just as much as the fear for Red's health this time. She knew she wouldn't get through the entrance, before the second soul allowed her, but it hadn't kept her from trying again, edged on by the sound of Red's screaming, which was still ringing in her ears. She walked back up the small staircase with angry, defeated steps. She could feel the wardrobe smirking at her for once again denying her access to the dungeons and knowing the curse of this place, she might not even be imagining that. Belle dumped heavily to the floor and sat there in a moment of utter despair. The memory of Red's tortured screams had settled like a spiked chain around her heart and was preventing her from thinking clearly. She sat there for a moment, watching and listening as the bench caught up to her. She had run from it in a frantic impulse to try and break through to the dungeons again. It had only now made its way back to her, apparently not having the slightest doubt about where she had gone.

"I can't get through to her", Belle whispered to it and caressed the soft fabric of the cushion as the bench stopped in front of her. "There's just no way." Saying the words aloud felt like another defeat and it angered her. It made her furious to a point, where she didn't quite recognize herself. Belle so rarely got angry and never like this. But never before had she sat like that, listening to a loved one being tortured. The day her mother died had not been the same and only left her sad. Now she was experiencing real fury and she couldn't sit here anymore. If she couldn't get through to her, maybe she could get through to him. She would find his damned book and she almost hoped he would catch her doing it and finally show his face instead of hiding in the dungeons, where he knew she couldn't reach him.

"You're a coward Rumpelstiltskin", she said through clenched teeth, hoping he would hear. Then she got up and started walking. The bench quickly followed her, but couldn't quite keep up. It followed her from a distance as she headed for the staircase leading through the dining hall. For once she was too blinded by the sudden anger to let her anxiety get to her. The anger filled her up, guided her and she was pleased to let it. It felt more constructive and it definitely felt better than being afraid and saddened by the thought of Red being hurt.

Somehow the anger made her focus. Remembering the sentimentality of Rumpelstiltskin's nature Belle decided to take a different approach. Maybe the castle chasing her out of his family rooms was just a way of preserving it. After all they had been in his life longer than she had. But Rumple had shown true feelings for her that the second soul couldn't deny. He had destroyed the library because he was mad at her for leaving. But he hadn't broken the chipped cup, a much more powerful symbol of the love they once shared. If he really wanted to send her a message he would have broken that. Yet he hadn't. Maybe because he couldn't, maybe this was the key to unlocking his spell book. Belle suddenly felt certain this was it.

The only question left then was how was it a key?

Belle's angered mind only wavered slightly as the decrease of light and her steps were loud in the empty hallway. When she reached the dining hall she pushed through the doors right away. A small part of her mind had expected to find Rumpelstiltskin standing behind the doors, leaning against the table or spinning on his wheel in the corner as he waited for her entry. The room was empty though. It looked just like when they had first been here, wrecked and abandoned. She skipped past the enormous, broken table and the bodies of slain chairs and headed for the cabinets of ornaments down at the end.

She spotted the chipped cup from afar, standing alone on one of the shelves, where she had left it. Around it were stacks of fancy porcelain plates, silverware, different kinds of jewelry and other things that people had paid him with for his magic. He had said that it was a cabinet of memories and trophies. Belle had then asked him if he considered her a trophy. His eyes had lingered in the chipped cup on that same shelve and his gaze was soft as never before when he looked back at her.

"No", he had said with a humble voice completely devoid of the theatrical tone that he so often used. Belle also remembered the day she had tried to confront him about pushing her away and allowing his greed for power to block her out. It had gotten to a point where Belle was yelling at him and raising her voice made him even more agitated. He was childish like that sometimes. He had himself so worked up that soon he had started throwing the chairs of the dining hall around and porcelain plates form the cabinet was flying out, crashing against the walls everywhere. The anger in his eyes had turned to panic as the outburst of magic started spinning out of control. Belle had started to fear then, if he would finally lash out on her, which he had said he never would, but then she saw that his eyes fell on the cup standing in there alone on its shelf and for a moment he had relaxed.

"You need to leave Belle. Our deal is over, leave the castle."

"No Rumple-"

"LEAVE!" As he screamed at her, he looked mad like never before. He looked desperate for a second and then turned, summoned a force so powerful Belle could feel the energy rushing to him and with a single push the enormous dining table started cracking down the middle. Rumpelstiltskin kept screaming: "Leave! Leave! Leave!"

And so Belle did.

Now she was back here, holding the chipped cup, staring angrily at it. This meant something to him. It had kept its place in the cabinet although everything else was broken and shattered. Was the book somewhere in the cabinet, hidden to the naked eye? Belle tried placing the cup on different shelves, hoping some of the positions would trigger a hiding spot. She didn't know how magic worked, especially not dark magic.

None of it seemed to work.

Belle sighed and took a step back. She held the cup carefully in her two hands as she tried to think. The anger was dying out in her. She was still mad at him, but staying angry was not a thing Belle often did. She didn't know how to keep it alive. Her determination hadn't failed yet though. She would do this.

Think. The chipped cup is the key. What is the key hole? It has to be in this room.

Then she had it. She started looking through the ruins of the cabinet to see if he had thrown away the little box. She had left it in the same cabinet that held the cup. It wasn't in here now. It must have fallen out or Rumple had sent it flying across the room in his despairing destruction. She searched the entire floor around it and when she didn't find it there, she started looking around the room. It was a small box, easy to miss. A little wooden box, which could disappear in corners. She went to the far end of the room and back.

Suddenly it was there. A little square, wooden box caught in one of the shredded curtains. It must have slid across the floor. It seemed unharmed and with an increasing heart rate she broke the seal and opened it.

Inside she found the little porcelain piece. The one that had broken off the cup. Belle had kept it because she wanted to repair the cup, but as it started gaining the special symbolism, she decided not to. Of course Rumple knew that she had kept the piece, he knew all the contents of his cabinet. Belle was sure that this was how the key was triggered.

She hurried back to the cabinet and took the little piece out of the box. She picked up the cup and carefully put the pieced together. Then waited.

Nothing.

Laughter filled her ears, gloating, mean laughter in a voice that was so familiar and yet not.

"You silly little girl, thought you had it all figured out. You will never find it."

It was Rumpelstiltskin's voice, yet again it was foreign. Belle realized it was the second soul, speaking directly to her for the first time.

"This is cruel!" She yelled out, feeling a fraction of the anger flaring up again. "Stop it! Come face me instead!"

Just like last time her plead was unanswered. He said no more, but left her in silence with the cup her hands. As she put it back the broken piece fell off again and she let it be. For a moment she just stared at the ruined cup, crestfallen. Only when she heard the familiar two-parted knocking sound of the bench approaching, did she take her eyes off the cabinet. It walked up to her and she patted it lightly.

"I really thought I had figured it out", she told it and sighed. She had been so sure for a moment. In the end she wasn't as important to Rumpelstiltskin's new split personality as she had initially thought.