Chapter 11: You Came Back

With her ventures into the woods being as few as they were, Belle harbored the obvious fear that she would never find her father, lying broken and cold in the snow. The image in the magic mirror had clearly shown Papa to be somewhere in the forest, no doubt searching for her. What if she never came across him? Or what if she came across him too late?

Thankfully, fortune seemed to be with her, as she meandered Philippe through the trees at a light trot, periodically calling for her father. "Papa! …. Papa!" Pulling up short, Belle suddenly gasped when she found her father's sprawled, almost frostbitten form, on the bank of a stream. She lifted him onto their horse and spirited him fearfully back to Villeneuve. The old man was alive, but only just, and she had to get him warm.

Their cottage was dark and deserted when they returned, and Belle was actually glad for it. She didn't need her husband's rapid-fire questions about where she had been all this time, and she didn't need him in the way of treating her papa as she set about getting him into bed and keeping him warm as best she could. Even so, it would have been nice if Gaston had been home, waiting for her (that's what husbands were supposed to do. Support their spouse). But, no, he was probably at the tavern drinking himself into a stupor.

There was, of course, the possibility that Gaston and a search party might be away in the woods looking for her and they had just passed each other like ships in the night. For some cynical reason, however, Belle was inclined to doubt it. It made her want to cry, almost, yet she refrained and threw herself into her healing work.

Neither she nor Maurice had noticed a frozen-over snowman come apart upon entering their cottage, dashing off into the village to report back to Gaston that his wife and father-in-law had safely returned…

Maurice came back into the conscious world slowly, by degrees. The first sight he drank in was his only daughter's lovely face. "Belle…."

"Ssssh…." She pushed a washcloth along his forehead tenderly. "It's all right, Papa. I'm home."

Maurice actually sat up straight in bed in his joy, and embraced her tightly. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I missed you so much…" she whispered.

"But the Beast? How did you escape?" Maurice's eyes shone, probably thinking she had quite a story to tell there.

But Belle just smiled. "I didn't escape, Papa. He…. he let me go."

"That horrible Beast?" Maurice had good reason to be doubtful.

"But he's different now, Papa. He's… changed somehow." Belle smiled softly, fondly, as she thought of the Beast, only for a sharp pang to course through her as she thought of how much she missed him.

Belle's saddlebag suddenly tipped over on the bedspread and down to the floor, revealing the magic mirror… but also Chip, spinning a little, disoriented. Glancing to Belle, he chirped, "Hi!" and hopped up into Maurice's palm.

Belle was too amused to be angry. "Oh…. a stowaway!"

Maurice didn't seem nearly as shocked as Belle might have imagined, and even greeted Chip in a way that seemed to suggest the two knew each other. "Well, hello, little fella! Didn't think I'd see you again!"

Chip hopped around in Maurice's palm to face Belle. "Belle? Why'd you run away? Don't you like us anymore?"

"Oh, Chip," she chuckled, oddly finding herself blushing. "Of course I do, it's just that…"

A rather abrupt knock at the door interrupted them. Belle drifted over to answer it, finding an older gentleman, his skin pulled tight around his face like leather, on their back stoop. "May I help you?"

"I've come to collect your father."

"My father?" Belle gasped, shocked.

"Don't worry, Madame Gaston…. We'll take good care of him." Drawing back, Monsieur D'Arque revealed a barred coach waiting with men guarding it. A crowd had also formed, armed with pitchforks, torches…. and guns. Like they were a mob spoiling for a fight. But with whom?

Belle felt the pieces click into place in her mind and she was suddenly filled with an offended rage. "My father's not crazy!" she made a furious move towards D'Arque, who actually shrank back.

"He was raving like a lunatic! We all heard him, didn't we?" Lefou, who was at the head of the throng, hollered out. Shouts of assent went up. Belle's eyes scanned for a sympathetic face. And there was her husband, leaning against the brick wall of their cottage. Much of his rugged face was cloaked in shadow. He made no move to kiss her, much less greet her, as if she hadn't been a wife gone missing for days. He also, strangely, didn't make any moves to control his own sidekick; Lefou, despite his diminutive stature, was working up the crowd into a frenzy. Perhaps Gaston thought it best to let Lefou get his ya-yas out and then everyone would get bored from stewing in some perceived slight. Or, as some people were now doing when they saw Maurice come out in search of his daughter, from laughing at a joke that wasn't funny anymore.

"Belle?"

"Maurice…." Lefou was practically gleeful. "Tell us again, old man! Just how big was the Beast?"

Maurice didn't seem to detect the mocking sarcasm and answered the question honestly. "He was…. enormous! I'd say eight – no, more like ten feet!" The crowd busted up.

"You don't get much crazier than that!" Lefou played up to his base – probably the best audience the midget dolt had ever gotten in his life. And still, Gaston moved not a tick. If anyone could command the whole of Villeneuve to calm the hell down, he could – Belle knew the admiration and respect he wielded. And yet the man she had married did nothing.

"It's true, I tell you!" Maurice cried out.

"Get him out of here!" There were catcalls and two uniformed asylum officers took Maurice under his arms.

"Let go of me!"

"No!" Belle tried to follow, appeal to D'Arque, who just brushed her aside. "You can't do this!"

Now, Gaston decided to show up, moving out of the shadows. "Poor Belle… it's a shame about your father."

Truly desperate, Belle turned to her husband. "You know he's not crazy, Gaston!"

Gaston pretended to think about it. "I might be able to clear up this…. little misunderstanding…. If…"

Her heart clenched. "If what?"

"If you bear my child."

Belle drew back in horror and disgust. So he knew! He'd known the whole time this was going to happen, and was using her father's freedom as a form of blackmail. She didn't recognize the man in front of her. This man was not her husband. She didn't know him anymore. "What?!"

"One little word, Belle – that's all it takes."

How about this one word, honey? "NEVER!" Belle pushed him aside, running for the stairs.

"Have it your way!" her husband called after her.

"Belle! Belle! Let go of me!" Maurice was shouting.

Belle returned to the stone stoop just in time, armed with her own piece of checkmate. "My father's not crazy, and I can prove it!" She noted how Gaston's face seemed to fall in curious shock at this. "Show me the Beast!"

She held out the mirror far as it flashed green, revealing a heartbroken monster howling in grief. Gasps of shock and horror went up from the townspeople, and Belle watched as Gaston's eyes narrowed.

"Is it dangerous?" A woman wailed from somewhere in the mass of people.

"Oh, no, he'd never hurt anyone… please, I know he looks frightened, but he's really kind and gentle…" She gazed down at the mirror almost lovingly, not really noticing the adoration in her eyes as she murmured, "He's my friend…"

But Gaston did notice, and his heart hissed in a threatened way. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you have feelings for this monster!"

Belle set aside her husband's implications about her being unfaithful in favor of taking rabid offense to what he had called her Beast. "He's no monster, Gaston!" she twisted away from him, her beautiful face marred by a truly feral sneer. "YOU are!"

Gaston's eyes flashed, and he snatched the mirror from her. "She's as crazy as the old man!" he realized, whipping up the crowd now, inciting an insurrection. "She says this creature is her friend! Well, I've hunted wild beasts, and I've seen what they can do. This Beast will make off with your children! He'll come after them in the night!"

"No!" Belle cried out.

"We're not safe until his head is mounted on my wall! I say we KILL the Beast!"

A great roar of assent went up, and Belle panicked. For the first time, she realized how much she had overplayed her own hand. She had saved her father by proving his case…. but at the same time, unintentionally caused Gaston and the whole of Villeneuve to switch targets. They were out for blood, but not her father's. They wanted to murder the…. the man she loved.

She threw herself at her rabid husband, trying to grapple back for the mirror. "No, I won't let you do this!"

"You're not with us, you're against us!" Gaston threw his wife off. "Bring the old man! We can't let them running off to warn the creature!"

Maurice and Belle were thrown into the storm cellar that doubled as the old man's workshop. Belle tugged at the large, circular iron handles. "Let us out!"

Through the wood, she heard Gaston shout something, but couldn't make it out, and there was a throaty yell from the mob, which soon faded away into the distance.

In a panic, Belle dashed for the window, using a long stick to try and pry it up, but the panes wouldn't budge. Gaston knew how the mirror worked about as little as she did, but she wouldn't be surprised if the enchanted mirror could lead her husband and his horde of followers straight to the castle. "I've got to warn the Beast! This is all my fault! Oh, Papa, what are we going to do?"

"Now…. now…. we'll think of something…."

That something mercifully came quicker than either father or daughter expected, but it wasn't their idea. It was Chip's. The little teacup had spotted Maurice's wood-chopper, still standing abandoned in the nearby meadow and hopped as fast as his saucer could carry him over to it. The mechanics of driving it didn't seem that hard, and Chip didn't care to learn. He just wanted to splice up stuff with that axe blade, and gleefully steered the woodchopper right into the storm cellar, intentionally crashing it and breaking into Belle and Maurice's prison in the process.

Father and daughter had had enough warning to dive out of the way, and all Chip said about it was, "You guys gotta try this thing!"

Philippe, the dependable old horse, rode harder back to the castle than he ever had in his life. As he, Belle, Maurice and Chip neared the iron gates, a hard rain had begun to fall…. and Belle could now see her neighbors from Villeneuve running away from the castle – not toward it. What the….? What had happened?

She didn't have time to think about it, her attention suddenly drawn up into the castle's turrets… and two fingers crawling along the roofs like ants. It was her husband, and… and her Beast. The Beast was on his side, looking wounded, while Gaston bore down.

"NO!" Belle screamed up to the heavens. Even from this far away, she swore her and the Beast's eyes met. "No, Gaston, don't….!"

The Beast was up quicker than the lightning that suddenly spidered across the sky, catching Gaston's crude weapon – a piece of the turret – in his huge paw. Now, he was able to fight back. Now he was pissed.

But Gaston could fight too – like a dog, Belle knew. She clicked the reins. "Let's go Philippe!" They charged at a gallop into the courtyard, rode right into the entrance hall. Dismounting, heart in her mouth, Belle ascended the grand staircase at a sprint. If she didn't get there in time…. She didn't know what she would do.

It helped that she knew the layout of the castle by heart, and when she burst onto the balcony of the West Wing, she scanned the rooftops. There was Gaston, falling limply to the ground and a triumphant Beast standing over him. Was her husband (Belle's heart roiled in revulsion as she thought the word now) hurt? She didn't know, and frankly didn't care. All she saw was the handsome, strong creature now just a few levels down from her.

"BEAST!"

He turned, and she had never seen a more beautiful sight than his fangs uplifting into that special smile which had only ever been just for her. "Belle…"

And despite the turrets being slick with rain and not at all safe to climb even in the best of weather, the Beast doggedly scaled up the rooftops to his balcony to get to her, reaching out a paw as he swung himself up the last few feet. "Belle…."

Reaching, Belle felt her hand tingle as it brushed his paw. With the other, the Beast caressed her face, nearly dwarfing her whole cheek. "You came back…" He seemed dazed with happiness.

Smiling, Belle closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Nothing could keep them apart now. And, heart pounding, she knew that if the Beast tried to kiss her now, she would let him, and gladly. She felt him bend towards her and she drew her face nearer, all but puckering her lips expectantly, wondering what his warm lips would feel like tightly pressed against her own, or if his fangs might get in the way as they kissed. The thought made her laugh. Please, Beast…. Kiss me….

He didn't. He abruptly roared in her face instead, rearing back. Belle shrank away in horror. Around her… her lover's massive girth, she saw the wild eyes of her husband as he sank a knife into her Beast's side. The Beast flailed, a giant paw connecting with Gaston's knife arm as he lunged back for another stab, knocking both the blade out of her husband's hands…

… and also knocking the man off-balance.

Lunging forward, Belle grabbed at the brooched nape of the Beast's cloak and held fast, drawing him close as, with a terrible scream, Gaston plunged over the side hundreds of feet down into the foggy gorge which bordered the castle far below.