Part Four

Chapter 25

Thoughts swirled round in Belle's head like birds in flight as she sat on the train, completely dazed. Adam's been lying to me - Papa's sick, he's ill, he needs me - How long has it been an act? - Did George do this to him, is he back in town? - No wonder he's been so nice after how we started off - Why didn't Resa say what was wrong with him, why did she sound so scared? - How can I ever talk to him again after what he did? - Am I going to have to stay at home for weeks looking after Papa? - We nearly kissed, I can't believe we nearly kissed - Has he broken his leg, has he fallen off a cliff, has he had a heart attack? - What did he mean by a will? What kind of will has a clause like that?

She handed her ticket over to the inspector mechanically. As the train pulled out the station, she thought she saw a tall, red-headed man in a blue shirt run towards the train. Belle twisted round in her seat to get a better view, but the train had already turned the corner, leaving the station out of sight. She settled back down in her seat, confused emotion twisting in her gut. It probably wasn't him, anyway, she thought. He wouldn't do something like that if he'd been lying to me about all those months of friendship. A tear started to bead up in her eye.

Adam slumped in defeat, running a hand through his loose hair. The train had pulled out of the platform just before he'd reached the ticket barriers, and he staggered back over to the little metal chairs that lined every station he'd ever been to, gasping for breath after his run from the ceilidh hall to the station. He put his head in his hands, and shook it slightly. Adam wasn't sure why he'd thought it was a good idea to run after Belle, or why he'd wanted to do it - to apologise some more, maybe, or possibly to make her accept his help with her father - but all he knew was the devastation crashing through his body after he'd missed her. He had no idea when or even if Belle would come back after what had happened. You're such an idiot, he thought.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket, as if on cue, and he saw it was Cogsworth calling. Glancing at the station clock, Adam saw it was the time he'd said that he would try to get home. He answered the call.

"Adam!" Cogsworth said, a smile evident in his voice. "I take it you're getting home soon, but if you and Belle want to stay out a little longer, that's perfectly alright -"

"Belle's gone," Adam said leadenly.

"Gone where?" Cogsworth asked, slightly confused. Adam braced himself for what he had to say.

"She's gone home. She got a phone call from one of her friends about her father - he's ill, I think. She had to go right away."

"Why didn't you go with her?" Cogsworth asked, and Adam could almost see him get his parent-lecture-face on.

"Because . . ." Adam sighed. "Because she told me she liked me, and I . . . I told her about the will." Cogsworth gasped, but otherwise was silent. Adam ran his fingers through his hair again before he continued. "She ran off. She was so angry - I haven't seen her like that since . . . since we first met."

"Do you know what this means?" Cogsworth said slowly. "The executor won't have much sympathy for you -" He broke off in the middle of a sentence, and Adam knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose, making his little glasses press up against his eyes. "Just one question, Adam. Why?"

"Because . . ." Adam said slowly, ". . . I love her."

Later that night, Belle finally got off the train at her local station. She'd called Resa a few hours earlier, after she'd stopped crying, to let her know she was coming, and Resa promised to meet her at the station. True to her word, Resa was there waiting, along with her dad and Mr. Domarchy, the bookseller. Mr. Domarchy held out a small flask of coffee, and at Belle's dubious look, said gently, "Don't worry, I didn't make this - it's from Costa." Belle took the flask and drank a little, before turning to Resa.

"So, where's my dad? What happened?" She hoped Resa's dad couldn't see her trembling fingers.

"Katriane," Mr. Gerard started. If Belle hadn't thought this was serious before, the use of her real name, the one on her birth certificate, made the situation even graver. "Katriane," he continued, "I found your father last night in a snowdrift a good few feet high. He was unconscious, and his skin was blue in places. He'd evidently walked a long way. His ankle is broken, which is probably how he couldn't get out the snowdrift once he fell in. It's a good thing Resa and John were with me," he said, gesturing to the other two, "or I doubt I would have gotten your father back to my house."

"How is he now? Has the doctor been to see him?" Dread was pooling in Belle's stomach, and she gripped the coffee flask so tightly she was sure she was burning her palms.

"Belle," Resa said gently, "he's in hospital, he's in a stable condition." Something about the way she said it, her eyes refusing to meet Belle's for more than a second, only made Belle's unease grow.

"What do you mean, a stable condition? What's happened to my dad?" The three helpers shared a look, and Mr. Domarchy bent down, so he was face-to-face with Belle, and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Belle, I don't want you to panic too much, but it's not good news." His bright green eyes caught her brown, and Belle could see his sympathy. "Your dad has severe hypothermia, and suffered some sort of blow to the head. We -" He broke off for a second, gathering a breath. "We've not been able to wake him up yet. I'm sorry."

It was all too much. Adam's confession, the hours of journeying, and now this. Belle dropped the flask of coffee, the hot contents spilling out over the concrete ground, as she collapsed in a heap, Mr. Domarchy and Resa's father rushing over to pick her up. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the blinding flash of a streetlight, searing itself onto her eyes like a sheet of lightning, like the sun, like an angel.

At the same time, many miles away, Team Cupid sat around the kitchen table in Cogsworth's house. Nobody had spoken for long time.

"Shouldn't it be enough?" Babette said in a subdued manner, a ghost of the bubbly, vivacious girl she usually was. "That he loves her?"

"She has to love him in return, mon ange," Lumière said, curling his fingers around hers. "N'est-ce pas, Cogsworth?"

"Yes," he replied distractedly, still staring blindly at a knot in the table. "'If he can prove he has a true heart, and receives another in return by his twenty-first birthday, then he shall inherit all,' that's how my cousin put it." He sighed. "I wish she'd never changed the will."

Lumière and Babette looked up at Cogsworth, who was still oblivious to them both. She glanced at him, and he nodded at her.

"What do you mean, you wish she'd never changed the will?" Babette asked. "Who changed it? And why?" Cogsworth froze, realising what he'd just said. He paused, considered, then swallowed what was left of his tea and turned to face Babette and Lumière.

"I probably should have told you this a long time ago - I probably should have told Adam, actually, but never mind that now." He looked at his two friends over his glasses, stern as a judge, and continued. "What I'm about to tell you has been secret for many years. As far as I'm aware, Adam doesn't know, and neither does the executor of the will."

"Who is the executor of the will?" Babette interrupted.

"Adam's maternal grandmother," Cogsworth said. "Although honestly, I'd be surprised if she hasn't figured it out by now."

"My cousin married very young," Cogsworth began. "Hannah was lovely, kind, and very intelligent. Vincent, Adam's father, was very much like Adam - proud, quick-tempered, but very loyal, passionate and caring. Now, I don't know the exact specifics of what was going on, but I do know that by the time Adam was about seven or eight, Vincent had mistresses. Several, in fact." He paused to take another sip of his tea, and continued. "When Hannah found out, she was heartbroken. The two of them filed for a divorce, but it was coming up for Christmas, and neither of them wanted to upset their son at that time of year. You have to understand," Cogsworth said, "Hannah and Vincent loved Adam very much. They just weren't good at being married to each other. Anyway, Hannah had been given primary custody, all the papers were ready to be singed after New Year's, and Hannah and Vincent were having a last Christmas together married. But Hannah . . . well, she was worried about her health. Her side of the family - and, of course, mine as well - has a history of heart disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol - everything. So she decided to change the will, in secret, in case something happened to her. She didn't want Adam to grow up to be like his father. She knew he was better than that.

"So, before she left, she altered her will. But then . . . the accident happened. It was a car crash on the A9, on the way down to see me, and everyone else on Hannah's side." Cogsworth sipped again, seeming to draw strength from the cup in front of him. "Because no divorce or custody papers had been signed yet, the will appeared in both of their names. The executor knows most of this, and she's guessed the rest. Adam -"

"-is right behind you." Team Cupid spun around in their seats, taking Adam in. His face was a mixture of betrayal, misery, and mistrust. "So it's true? Dad was having an affair - no, affairs, and you never told me?" His voice wasn't angry, but rather broken. "You knew for ten years the reason behind this will, and you never told me?" Cogsworth started to get up, but Adam cut him off with one look. "I know I have no right to be angry about this when I've just done the exact same thing - and I'm not," he added hastily, "but why couldn't you have told me?"

"I don't have an answer, Adam." Cogsworth said.

"I'm going upstairs, and please, please don't follow me." Adam turned out the door and climbed up the stairs. Babette, Cogsworth and Lumière remained perfectly silent, frozen in place. They were silent long enough to hear Adam eventually reach the top landing and close his door quietly. They were still silent as they heard him, slowly, start to cry.

A/N: Angst. Sorry, but it gets worse before it gets better. The good news is I have this last section completely planned out and now all I have to do is find the time inbetween study breaks and other fun things to actually write.

Side note: this is the longest chapter I've ever written! *confetti*

Reviews make me happy :)