Belle angrily shelved a cart of returned books, stuffing them beside each other without care to their catalog numbers.
It had been three days since her disastrous dinner with the Charmings and her blood was still boiling after Snow White's attack on her son. Three days since her son ran off and hadn't told his parents where he was going or when he was coming back. Three days that her daughter revealed her secret ability and barley spoken a word since.
Even her husband was quieter than usual. Belle assumed he was keeping himself distracted to prevent himself from wreaking havoc on the princess-turned-bandit, and possibly keeping tabs on Gideon, but it still felt like she was dealing with the aftermath alone.
Snow White had destroyed the foundation of her family in a matter of seconds and Belle had yet to be able to piece it back together.
Belle remembered the last time she felt this hate-filled and lost: when she had sent Rumple over the town line after his attempt of murder on Killian. She regretted it the second Rumple was over the line, but she'd been too heart-broken to bring him back. She had tried to convince herself that she was doing what was best for the town and even herself, but deep in her bones she knew she was doing it because she was hurt, because the one person she thought she could always trust had just spat on their vows, and she needed space.
And she did get space…from her rejected husband as well as the very people she'd helped save. For three days she had sat in the home she and Rumple shared, sobbing and tearing apart the remains of the life they had begun to build. Not once did the Charmings or even Hook—whom she would find out through a loose-lipped Leroy had been black-mailing her husband mere days after their wedding—stop by to check on her well-being. In fact three days later, when she managed to pull herself together long enough to get an on-the-house bowl of soup at Granny's, she found the Charming clan laughing and carrying on at a table in the back, only noticing her once she was leaving.
It was a minor sin, Belle thought at the time, but it wasn't until a year later, when she and Rumple renewed their vows—when she became a mother and nearly lost her dear son to an unquestionable evil—when the heroes she fought for, and sacrificed over, were dead-set on killing him—that she was able to realize that the sins against her were too great to ignore any longer.
They had left left in the hospital to rot after Killian's attack, scared and delirious with amnesia, drugging her over and over again to keep her tame.
Snow White had sold out her and her unborn child to save Killian's skin—and none of them had bothered to warn her of the impending danger.
And they all made the decision to leave her to rot in the Underworld after she put herself in an ill-advised sleep to protect her baby—gods she would never forget the look on Emma's face when she popped into Granny's. They had completely forgotten about her.
And that was on top of the constant blackmail, of using her as an inanimate object to be tossed around and trampled on and crushed as long as it benefited them.
By the time her son had been restored to her, she was willing to let go of all the misdeeds done towards her, to begin anew just as Gideon's life had been.
But then they started up all over again.
Inquiring her services to babysit Neal and Robyn at every drop of a hat—only to ignore her requests for assistance with Gideon whenever she needed it.
Sneering at Gideon from afar.
Leaving all of them out of 'family' events, like dinners or parties.
It hurt, but Belle had buried that pain for Neal and Robyn's sakes. They were what mattered. They were her family.
And now half of that equation was gods knows where, angry and hurting from his own mother's backwards thinking—and as his unofficially godmother, Belle couldn't help him.
She knew where he was of course. A quick spell on Rumple's end determined that he and Gideon were still in Storybrooke, though keeping their distance.
Giving them their space was the hardest part. As a mother all she wanted to comfort her son, but she needed to let him grieve and think on his own.
If the other night hadn't happened, maybe he would be.
The thought was still on her mind when the door to her library opened despite the closed sign, and festered into hate when the one woman in the world she didn't want to see stepped in.
"Belle, good morning," Snow White greeted with her usual bright smile. Though there was more stress in her eyes.
"We're closed," Belle said, pushing the cart towards the children's section, her anger boiling when she heard her follow.
"We need to talk about the other night," Snow said, her tone indicating there was no room for argument. "More importantly, where our son's go from here."
Belle released the cart, letting it roll until it crashed into a shelf. "I have nothing to say to you, and what our sons do is their business."
Snow rolled her eyes. "I knew you'd act this way."
Belle slammed a book down on the cart. "Like what, Snow? Like a parent or like someone with common sense."
"I wouldn't call you that," Snow muttered, and Belle twisted around.
"You know what, this has gone on long enough." Belle said. For yours there seemed to be this balancing act between her and the ex-princess. There was this intense acidity between them, far from a rivalry, but constant enough that they subconsciously tried to outwit each other as mothers and as leaders in Storybrooke.
But there was something more personal there, a phenomenon that divided yet bounded them together for life: darkness.
Snow feared and hated it, convinced that it went against everything she was meant to represent as a hero.
Belle accepted it as part of her life, as a part of her husband and son's very existence. She hated it as well, but she greeted it with respect, knowing light could not exist without it.
It was in her and her family, and Snow hated that. She hated that her own child didn't seem to mind it.
But Snow was without reason when it came to darkness, or at least anything that was darker than her.
Maybe the former princess didn't know it yet, but Belle was just that.
"You," Belle snarled. "Are a pious bitch and I am so sick of you."
Snow's eyes widened but Belle didn't back down.
"You need to drop your issues with me and my family right now," Belle directed coldly. "We have done nothing but been civil to you for the past two decades, but all you've ever done is stick your noses up at us and the other night was the final straw!"
Belle didn't back down. She stepped up to the ex-bandit and pointed a finger at her, aiming for her heart.
"You act like your better than us, than me, than everyone in this town, but you're lower than everyone! People may love you, but they don't respect you because you have done nothing to earn respect! You endanger them without warning, leave them in the grips of an enemy without a leader! And that's just the town! What about your family?"
"How dare—"
"Didn't you ever wonder why Neal came to our house so often?" Belle inquired—begged—Snow White. "He didn't feel comfortable around you! He felt constricted, like he had to be the son of Snow White and Prince Charming, not the son of his parents."
Snow shook her head, staring at Belle in disbelief.
"You're lying. He never said any of this. He never—"
"Why do you think that is?" Belle spat.
Snow's eyes searched Belle's face, hunting desperately for the answer that she knew.
She gulped, nodding her head just slightly as her chin wobbled.
"Fine," she admitted through clenched teeth, her pride settling. "Maybe I did push him too hard. But everything…" she looked at Belle squarely. "Everything I did was to protect him from the likes of you."
Belle flinched at the way the last word came out, like the tension in the Charming home was somehow her fault.
"Likes of me? Are you referring to me particularly or my family? And I suggest you tread carefully on what you're about to say."
"The likes of filthy, dark-hearted cowards," Snow answered unafraid. "You think I put too high standards? Well you're right, I did. Because my son is better than you! All of you! You and your…your…"
Belle's eyes narrowed. "Say it."
"Your darkness!" Snow said, the word coming out as a gasp. "That darkness…Rumplestiltskin's darkness…it keeps destroying my life no matter how many times we snuff it out! I wish it would just die already!"
Belle's heart dropped. So this was how the great Snow White really felt. She rather see them all dead than coexist with them.
"And what about your daughter?" Belle snarked. It was a low blow, and if she wasn't so mad the words would have never left her mouth. "What about Emma's darkness? Do you hate that too or does that get a pass from the great Snow White."
"My daughter's the Savior," Snow remarked. "She's the exact opposite of you."
"Really? Because if I recall correctly, her potential for darkness was so great you cursed an innocent baby and her mother to boot."
Snow's glare wavered. "That was—"
"Sick." Belle answered. "And you know what? It didn't change a damn thing? Emma still gave into darkness, still made all the wrong choices that came with it."
"Emma accepted darkness to save us after your husband tried to destroy all of us!" Snow fought.
"I wasn't referring to the Dark One's curse," Belle stated matter-of-factly. "I was referring to the darkness that has been brewing inside her all her life. The darkness she built to protect herself from everyone who ever hurt her. Baelfire, Rumple and you."
"Everything I ever did was to protect her!" Snow yelled, her voice cracking. "And I did everything I could to be a good mother—a good friend—to her afterwards!"
"By letting her be with a man who lied to her? Who endangered her family, her son?" Belle retorted. "You led her down the aisle into his arms after finding out he killed David's father, an event that left him scared. You made him push it aside so you could have your day. Emma didn't need to get married, Snow, she needed to heal from everything that had happened to her. She needed her mother to listen!"
"I just…she needed…"
"And now she's in some realm where her family can't see her," Belle continued, unable to stop. "Neal was right, you didn't protect her the way you should have. You were so obsessed with making up for the moments you missed with her that you didn't care that she was doing everything she did because she was traumatized! How could you not see that as her mother!"
That seemed to be the trigger, the anchor that had been weighing down Snow White's grief. The woman's chin began to shake and within a few seconds she was screaming in hysterics.
Belle actually had to jump back, the volume of her cries so loud they threatened to blow out her own hearing.
She watched in horror as the ex-princess crumpled in her library, the door still askew.
Belle stepped over her just enough to close it and allow them true privacy. She could only stare down at her for a moment, this once majestic leader who was nothing but a lump of sorrow at her feet.
Belle had been cruel, she knew that, she felt the lump of guilt began to rise in her throat.
Snow White, despite her faults, was still human, and still healing from her own trauma.
Giving up her child, living nearly 30 years in a lie away from the people she loved, and trying to put back the pieces of her shattered life when she awoke.
Her progress was notable, forgiving Regina, staying by her family's side during all the various events in the town. Maybe she hadn't always been the wisest, maybe she'd even been selfish at some points, but she had been doing the best she could.
Belle sighed, leaning down to scoop the sobbing woman into her arms.
"There, there," she comforted fruitlessly. "Come on."
She led Snow to a chair behind her circulatory desk, practically dropping her there while she went into the kitchenette for tissues and water.
She returned with a glass and a less-than-comfortable roll of paper towels, handing one to the ex-princess awkwardly.
"Here."
Snow calmed some, taking the course towel and wiping her red face. She breathed in shakenly, focusing on composing herself.
After a moment Belle grabbed a second chair and sat across from her, hesitating on what to do or say next.
She wasn't sorry and she wouldn't apologize, but she hated that Snow had to come to terms with her misdeeds and guilt in such a confrontational setting, and with her at that. Her own home or even Archie's office seemed more appropriate.
But it was all in the open now, and Belle felt she had a duty to close the door she had snatched open.
"You're right," Snow sniffed before Belle could say anything. "I destroyed my family."
"No," Belle sighed. "I didn't mean for you to see it like that."
"But it's true," Snow said with a tired shrug. "I pushed Emma into something she wasn't ready for and now I've lost her. And now I'm about to lose Neal too."
Belle shook her head, wishing more than anything that he and her son were with them at that moment.
Belle thought about them for a moment, about the last two decades and the time before and all of its obstacles.
"You haven't lost him," Belle reassured, her fingers clasped. "I've lost a son. I know what if feels like when you realize they'll never come back."
Snow tilted her head. "You got Gideon back. You even got to start over with him."
Belle lifted her head, staring glassily at the woman across from her. "I wasn't talking about him."
The confusion faded instantly from Snow's face as the memory of the fallen man who had impacted both of their lives settled between them.
Belle smiled sadly. "Do you remember that day? When you entered the shop and you told us Baelfire died? You held me, and…that was the last time I felt like I really knew you."
Snow wiped a fresh tear from her eye. "I didn't know what to do after he died. All I could do was hold Emma and tell her everything was going to be okay even though I didn't know if it was or not."
Belle nodded, remembering how she spent that night in the shop, sobbing into the cot in the backroom until she passed out.
"That…that was the last time I truly felt like her mother,"
Belle blinked, surprised by such a reveal.
It was ironic really. The second she learned of Baelfire's death was the last time she felt like she had a true friend. Someone else who loved the Dark One, gone.
"I wanted so badly to see her happy again," Snow continued. "And Hook…he was there…and he…he…"
Belle nodded. "He made appropriate modifications to earn her affection."
"And eventually he became her only ally because of me," Snow said with an air of disgust. "Now I don't even know where she is, how she is."
Belle sighed. If Gideon ever disappeared like that it would break her.
"Snow," Belle began. "I know all that's happened to you is still hurting you. And you're hurting Neal because of it." She reached out and gave the woman's hand a squeeze. "You need to face it all. I had to do the same when Gideon was taken. I had accept my part in hurting Rumple and my son so that I could have hope that we could start over."
Snow shook her head. "I don't know if I can. Emma, she…she doesn't need me anymore."
"That's not true," Belle fought. "Our children will always need us. We can't fix the past, but we can build a better future."
Snow could only stare at the woman in front of her. Belle had always been braver than her because she had more to lose. Loving the Dark One was a dangerous game and somehow she won it. Now she had a community that loved and respected her, the same community that looked at Snow White with hesitancy.
Snow had lost the leader they needed at some point, hell, the leader her own family needed.
Somehow, someway, she was going to get her back.
She stood, wiping her eyes a final time.
"I…I need to leave. I need to speak with my husband."
Belle nodded, standing as well.
Snow moved forward, as if she were going to hug Belle, but Belle took a step back.
Thankfully, Snow seemed to understand. She had a lot to make up for and it would take time.
But really, she realized that Belle was perhaps her truest friend. She had held her accountable today, and had lifted a curtain from her eyes that had been there far too long.
"Good luck," Belle said. And she truly meant it.
Snow paused outside the library, one last thought weighing on her mind.
"If you see Neal or Gideon before I do," she began, hesitating a bit. "Could you tell them…they have my blessing?"
Belle tilted her head. It wasn't quite an apology, but it was good start for the high and mighty ex-princess of Mist Haven.
Belle nodded and sent Snow away with a comforting smile.
They would never be friends, but they knew now where they stood. Belle would hold her with the same contempt that she held with Zelena, Regina and even Emma, but that would be it. Maybe one day that would change, but it was solid relationship for the two of them to have for now.
As Belle locked up the library that night, she felt lighter than she had in years, all the anguish she had felt free from her now.
She smiled a bit as she walked to her car.
She couldn't wait to get home and tell her husband all about it.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Snow entered the little farm house she and her husband had bought decades ago when the moved out of their little loft apartment.
The house was supposed to be a haven for a new life, a fresh start when their most recent evil had been defeated.
She had imagined raising her son in those safe walls, giving him everything she hadn't been able to give Emma. She imagined family dinners and quiet nights on the front porch after long, loud days.
She'd gotten all of that, at first, before Emma began to spend less time at the house, before Henry had jumped on his motorcycle and disappeared into the unknown.
She had told herself then that it was just a part of life, her family moving on, but then when Neal began to stray, her acceptance became a panic. She was losing her family, and she looked wrongfully for a scapegoat. The Golds fit the mold. After all, she'd blamed Rumplestiltskin for everything under the sun that had happened in Storybrooke and her family.
But Belle's talk had lifted that blinder. Rumplestiltskin had made his mistakes and had set to work to fix them. He'd been a good friend to her husband and son all these years, and she'd been too enthralled in her grief to join in on that friendship.
But that was over now.
David looked up when she entered, concerned.
He'd felt…something…in his chest earlier today. Like a piece of the heart he shared with his wife had broken off.
It was unnerving, and if he hadn't been looking for Neal, he would have ran and found his wife immediately.
He was still angry at her for her outburst at the Golds' but she was still his wife. His best friend. His everything.
"Snow," he greeted, relieved.
"We need to pack, a lot. I don't know how long we'll be gone." She instructed, that buried leader insider he creeping back up.
"What?" David said. "Pack for what? What are we doing?"
The ex-princess put her hands on her husband's shoulders, smiling bravely at him despite the tears in her eyes. He was the one thing she hadn't lost yet, but she'd come so close, shared heart or not.
She'd hurt him without even realizing it, and she had so much to make up for.
But there'd be time for that.
There'd be time for everything now.
"We're going to find our daughter," Snow answered, determined. "We're going to bring her home."