Author's Notes: I do not own Once Upon A Time which is a show on ABC where they give you your memory back just so your boyfriend can go to freaking Neverland for nine episodes. Yeah, that's fair. Let's not even talk about what they do to him when he gets back. Anyway, thanks for the reads and reviews. I am pretty sure I've gotten back to no one and I apologize. Nevertheless, I do appreciate them and I'll try to get back to you. Anyway, thank you in advance and happy reading!

Belle was four today.

She awoke early, as she was four and wanted to get the most out of her day. Her nurse had not even come yet to wake her and Belle quickly saw that her efforts were not in vain.

On her night table where boring things were usually kept like a glass of water and the prayer book her nurse insisted upon, she found a package wrapped in gold paper.

Belle smiled as she pulled it into her bed. Tearing at the paper, she found a book.

She did love books.

Gold thought that he might have finally found the thing that might kill the Dark One besides the dagger.

Teaching Beatrice to drive.

Actually, knowing it couldn't kill him was part of the misery of the endeavour. The other part was that Neal was tagging along. Gold was pleased to have his son around, even if it was just to have him cackle in the back, but he made no secret of his enjoyment.

"Beatrice!," Gold shouted.

"What?"

"Stop sign!"

"I was stopping!," she protested.

The Cadillac lurched as Beatrice slammed on the brakes. Neal snickered in the back.

"Right..." said Gold. "What you want to do is gently press down on the brake, not smash it at the last possible second."

"Fine."

She started driving again and then slammed again in a near collision with a truck.

Gold sighed. "It was a four way stop."

"Watch where you're going!," the man driving the vehicle shouted.

Gold also discovered the one area where Beatrice's temper was bound to show itself.

"Watch where I'm going?! Watch where you're going! It was my turn!"

"Yeah, why don't you come over here and say that?!"

"No, you come over here, pal!"

"Seriously, you're worse than a cab driver..." said Neal.

"And now he's getting out..." said Gold.

The man got out, slammed his door in a rage and walked over to the driver's side of the Cadillac, where he quickly realized who the occupants were.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Gold..."

"Hi," said Gold. "I'm just teaching my daughter how to drive."

"Right, yeah," the man said awkwardly. "Keep up the good work."

He hurried back to his truck and peeled out.

"So," said Gold, "let's go again and make sure it's clear."

She started again.

"Did you even look?," asked Gold.

"I'm in the intersection, how is it not my turn?"

"It's not about it being your turn, it's about whether another car is going to crash into you."

"I read the handbook, I'm pretty sure it's about if it's my turn," said Beatrice.

"Also, I don't know that starting fights with the other motorists is the best strategy," said Gold, earning another cackle from the backseat.

"I don't know, Pop, I think she might be able to handle herself," said Neal.

That's when they saw the lights on the sheriff's patrol car flash.

"Pull over," Gold said with a sigh.

Beatrice jerked the car to the side.

"It's not necessary to pull the car over all at once," said Gold. "Put it in park."

They waited. It was Emma.

"Hey, Emma," said Neal.

"Oh, hey." She tried to ignore him and leaned in on the window. "Beatrice, seriously, I've gotten ten calls about your driving."

"Is there nothing else happening in this town?," asked Beatrice.

"Mrs. Schuman says you almost hit one of her kids."

"There's like a hundred of them or something!," said Beatrice. "How am I supposed to know when they're still coming?! I was there like ten minutes, it's like waiting for a marathon to go by."

Emma looked at Gold.

"You must concede it's a fair point," said Gold.

Emma looked at Neal.

"There were a lot of them," said Neal.

"You can't run over kids!," said Emma.

"I didn't! Almost was the operative word! Also, not my fault," said Beatrice.

"Right, well, could you be more careful?," asked Emma. She looked askance at the Cadillac. "Maybe it's the car."

"What's wrong with the car?," asked Gold.

"It's a land yacht, Gold," said Emma. "How is she supposed to learn to drive in this monster?"

"Precisely. I want as much metal as possible between her and whatever she inevitably crashes into."

"Hey!," said Beatrice.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it is going to happen," said Gold.

"It's not going to be my fault," said Beatrice.

"Of course not, sweetheart," said Gold.

They walked into the library. Belle looked up and smiled as she sat at the circulation desk.

"How was it?," she asked.

"Good," said Beatrice.

Belle looked up to Neal and Gold.

"She's progressing," said Gold.

"It's fun to watch," said Neal.

Beatrice shot him a glare.

"Is Tamara still coming?," asked Belle.

"Yeah. Are we still on for dinner?"

"Yes," said Belle.

"I've got to get going. I promised Henry I'd meet him."

They said their goodbyes and Neal left.

"Who is Tamara?," asked Gold.

Belle scowled. "His fiancee. He's told you. I told you."

"So, we're still pretending he doesn't have feelings for Miss Swan?"

Beatrice nodded. "Pretty much." She looked at Belle. "So, are we acting normal for this dinner? Because I don't think we can pull that off."

"I don't know," said Belle. "He hasn't said when he's going to explain everything to her. Beatrice, would you help me with the display in the children's section?"

"I'm not reading," she warned.

"I didn't say anything about reading."

Beatrice walked off to the children's area.

"What about reading?," asked Gold.

"Oh, in New York, she used to volunteer to read for the children's story hour sometimes. She was good at it. She won't do it here. I'm working on it," Belle said with a wink.

"And how is the library coming? Do you need anything else before the opening?"

"No," said Belle with a smile, "my benefactor has been very generous."

"Have you had time to give any more thought to what I told you?"

Belle looked down. "It's ridiculous."

"Belle..."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Rumple. My father is my father."

"It might explain some things," said Gold. "Such as his callous disregard for your health and safety in some circumstances. His total lack of concern for his only grandchild. Also, Merlin seemed fairly certain and..."

"What? He's never been wrong?"

It pained Gold to make his next admission. "Being wrong isn't really what he does."

"Then why don't you ask him?"

"I will, if you wish it, but this is your life. Your father."

"Then let's just leave it."

Gold sighed. "I think perhaps for Beatrice's sake we need to know. Understanding where her magic comes from may well be instructive in helping her control it."

"I never had magic. My mother never did magic."

"Yet her mother was Catherine the Ice Princess and now we find our daughter can turn people into popsicles."

Belle nodded. "You're right. I'll ask Merlin what he knows of it when I see him later."

Gold furrowed his brow. "You're seeing him?"

"He's coming by to help with the library tomorrow," said Belle. "I don't have a lot of volunteers. I didn't see the harm."

"That's the problem with him," Gold muttered.

Belle stirred awake in her room at the Dark Castle, finding she was alone.

"Rumple?," she asked into the air.

She was answered by the doors to the room opening and Rumplestiltskin entered carrying a tray.

"Happy birthday," he said, placing the tray on the bed next to her.

"You cooked for me?," she asked.

"Yes, it does seem to work better this way around," said Rumplestiltskin. "Though I suppose that's to be expected when you take a noblewoman for a maid."

She shot him a playful scowl and then broke into a smile. "Well, thank you. Breakfast in bed, what a treat, though I thought you would have had some other bed antics in mind for my birthday."

"You wanton girl," he said, sitting down on the edge.

"Wanton woman," she corrected as she took her tea. "I believe that's more correct."

"What will the people of Avonlea say when they discover how you've been corrupted?"

"Well, no man will have me," said Belle.

"How fortunate for me," said Rumplestiltskin. He held his hand out revealing a package wrapped in blue paper.

"What's this?"

"It was a gift for an innocent maiden, but seeing as she's not here..."

Belle took it. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Go on."

Belle smiled as she unwrapped it. She opened the box to reveal a gold necklace which was several of the strands of gold Rumplestiltskin had spun braided together.

"It's beautiful," she gasped. "Oh, Rumple, it's too much."

"You do remember I make gold?"

"I've never had anything this valuable," she said.

Rumplestiltskin took the necklace from her and moved to be behind her. She held up her hair as he put it around her neck.

"You could have me spinning gold for you night and day and yet you never would," said Rumplestiltskin. "Which is why you deserve this and more."

Belle smiled. "Thank you. How do I look in it?"

"Beautiful," he said, kissing her shoulder. "Just beautiful. That's just the beginning, though."

"The beginning of what?," she asked.

"The rest of your gift,' he said. "Which means unfortunately, I'll be out the rest of this morning."

"The rest of my gift? Rumple, I don't need anything else."

He got off the bed. "You deserve it, though."

"Nothing extravagant," Belle warned futilely. "What shall I make for dinner?"

"Belle, you can't make your own birthday dinner. I'll arrange for something." He kissed her hand. "I shall return."

Rumplestiltskin left.

"I don't want anyone's firstborn!," Belle shouted after him.

"I'll take that under advisement!," he called back.

Belle passed the rest of the morning agreeably, taking her time with breakfast, dressing and wandering over to the library.

When she arrived, she spotted something on the table. It wasn't entirely unexpected, not after this many years. A package wrapped in gold paper with her name written on the top. She opened it to reveal a book.

"Much Ado About Nothing," she read off the cover. By someone called William Shakespeare. She had strangely never heard of him and she had read everything she thought. Belle sat in her usual chair, warmed by the light of the window and sat.

It was a play, the first couple of pages were some nobleman and a messenger talking about a war. It didn't really pick up until the nobleman's niece began to speak.

I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed, for, indeed I promised to eat all of his killing.

Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off and now is the whole man governed with one!

Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence.

I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.

The name of the nobleman's niece was Beatrice.

Merlin entered the library carrying two cups.

"If that's for Beatrice, I sent her home. She's still catching up on her schoolwork," said Belle.

"No, it's for you," he said putting the cup down and pulling a straw from his jacket pocket. "Iced tea."

"Thanks," said Belle. "Beatrice said you prefer espresso like her."

"It's an addiction," said Merlin. "One I am unwilling to part with."

Belle nodded. "I don't know where Beatrice got hers. One time when she was four, she wandered off in Barnes & Noble and I found her at the café with an iced mocha. There was no going back."

"So," said Merlin, "what do you need help with?"

"I'm just finishing shelving the history section," said Belle.

"Almost to the end then," said Merlin.

"Not a moment too soon," said Belle. "The opening's this weekend."

"Well," said Merlin, "I'll get to work then." He began heading towards the staircase.

"Rumple was concerned..."

Merlin stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"He seems to think that there's some great mystery that we're not getting about Beatrice." Belle shrugged.

"And you?"

"She's my baby," said Belle.

"Well," Merlin began, "Rumplestiltskin knows this, I doubt he's said it to you. I've been following him with great interest since he was a very small lad."

Belle giggled involuntarily.

"What?," Merlin asked.

"It's just hard to picture Rumple as a boy."

"Well, I assure you he was. We must all begin somewhere."

"What was he like?"

Merlin considered. "Good and sweet and broken-hearted."

"Broken-hearted?," asked Belle.

"Very. He was without his parents early on. Even when his father was there, he would have been better off without him. He was raised by two spinsters, the first kindness he ever knew. He was clever, but see, he was the son of a coward so it never mattered."

"It sounds like a sad life," said Belle.

"It was," said Merlin. He took a sip of his espresso. "See, what he doesn't know is that I've followed your family for the same time."

"My family?"

"Yes, your grandparents, their parents and their parents and theirs and theirs. I can name them all, what they liked to eat for breakfast, what made them sad. All True Love."

Belle frowned. "All True Love?"

"Yes."

"You told Rumple that Beatrice comes from an unbroken line of True Love on my side," Belle began. "That's not right, though. My parents never loved each other."

"And how do you know that?"

"My mother told me."

"Your mother told you what you needed to know to keep you safe."

"So, she did love Maurice?"

"No," said Merlin.

"Oh, so..."

"Let's say the man who fathered you had many enemies, enemies who were waiting for the child of his True Love, enemies who wanted to put a stop to it."

"Like Beatrice?"

"Precisely. In fact, the same group."

"But my father is with them."

"Because to keep you safe your father cast a spell on Sir Maurice to make him forget all about the Knights of the Round Table and the oath he had taken. None of the other knights would dare storm Maurice's castle to harm you and even if they had... let's say it would have been unpleasant for them."

"My father has magic?"

Merlin paused. "He gets by."

"Then why did he abandon me? And my mother? She was so unhappy with my father."

"Well, he wasn't exactly enjoying himself, either."

"Why did he do it?"

"Your father didn't abandon you. He always looked after you."

Belle shook her head. "I went with the Dark One-"

"You chose that, remember? Besides, there was no place safer."

"Except for the Blue Fairy and Regina-"

"He couldn't help that. He was incapacitated at the time."

The door opened. Emma entered with Henry.

"Hi," said Emma. She looked awkwardly at Belle and Merlin. "Neal was going to pick him up for dinner, but I guess Tamara had car trouble? I have a call to go out on."

"Nothing serious?," asked Belle.

"Somebody stole the goose that laid the golden egg," said Emma. She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Is it okay if I hang out here and go home with you, Belle?," asked Henry.

"Of course it is," said Belle. "Merlin and I are just shelving some books. We'll be done soon. Shall I drive him back?"

"Anyone except Beatrice," said Emma. "See you later, kid. Thanks, Belle."

"I will go finish that shelving," said Merlin. He headed up the stairs.

"Is it okay if I go to the children's section?," asked Henry.

"Do you have your book with you?," asked Belle.

"Do you want to see it?," he asked.

"Please," said Belle. She came around the counter and joined Henry at one of the tables as he opened his backpack and pulled out the book.

"I don't have that many stories about you," said Henry. "Which isn't fair because you're pretty cool."

Belle smiled. "Thanks, but I was wondering if you had any stories about Merlin?"

"Yeah," Henry said cheerfully flipping the pages. "The Knights of the Round Table. Camelot. Oh, there's this one where he falls in love with an evil fairy but she just wants to take his powers."

"What?," asked Belle.

"Yeah, it's way before any of the stuff with the knights, though. They disagree about how to use magic."

Belle smiled in relief. "That couldn't be her then."

"There is the one with his daughter."

Belle's stomach flipped. "His what?"

"Yeah, right here," said Henry, flipping the pages. "He has a daughter, but he couldn't see her to keep her safe from the evil fairy, but he always watches her and every year on her birthday, he leaves her a gift."

"A gift?," asked Belle.

"A book. He always leaves her a book."

Belle French awoke in her apartment to the sound of Beatrice crying softly in her crib.

"Beatrice," said Belle. The apartment was just a studio so she was at the crib in two steps. She picked up the infant and rocked her against her chest. "It's okay. You're okay. Did you have a bad dream?"

Beatrice's sobbing settled. Belle smiled.

"What about your new glasses?," Belle asked. She picked them up off her own night table. The baby had just gotten them a few days before. She hadn't liked them at first, but the doctor assured her it wouldn't take too long for Beatrice to realize she could see in them and act accordingly. Belle worked the strap around the girl's head and gave her a kiss. "There. That's so much better, isn't it?"

Beatrice cooed back something. Belle knew all parents thought their children were special, but she thought for certain Beatrice's cooing sounded different from other babies. It sounded almost... skeptical.

"Anyway," said Belle, "let's feed you."

Belle nursed the baby and then tried to feed her some strained peaches. After mixed results, Belle set some Cheerios in the tray on the high chair and sat across from her.

"It's my birthday," said Belle.

Beatrice stared at her.

"It's not like you had to get me anything," Belle teased. She got up and opened the curtains on the kitchen window. The baby whined. "It's spring, Beatrice, you'll have to let some light in."

She walked back around. "Anyway," said Belle, picking up some clutter in the small kitchen, "I was thinking we should do something special for it. A little cake? I could have a slice and you could make a mess of it. We could go to the zoo and the library."

That elicited another small shout.

"Well, it's my birthday," said Belle.

There was a knock at the door. Belle walked over to the door and opened it.

There was no one there.

She looked down to see a package in gold paper. Belle looked down either side of the hallway, then knelt down to pick it up. She took it and retreated back inside the apartment.

She sat at the kitchen table and sat to unwrap it as Beatrice watched.

It was a book.

Last year, she had still been in the hospital in Boston on her birthday when two books appeared: Much Ado About Nothing and Pride and Prejudice. She had taken Beatrice's first name from the former and her middle name Elizabeth from the latter.

This one was called "The Mayor of Casterbridge."

The story was about a man, a drunkard who sold his wife and daughter in an auction to a sailor. Belle didn't usually care for anything this depressing, but the language of the book was so beautiful she was forced to devour it, ever waiting for the happy ending. She read it throughout the day, at the park, while Beatrice napped in the stroller at the zoo and that night after she put the baby to sleep.

The man spent the rest of his life trying to make amends, trying to make it up to his daughter. In the end, he lost everything and died alone, asking that the daughter not even be told of his death, that no mourning be done, no bells tolled, no flowers laid and that no one remember him.

Belle thought it was the saddest thing she had ever read. If it was really a birthday present as she liked to imagine it was, she wondered why and of course, who had given it.