Belle's heart soared with excitement when she unlocked the door to the library. Of course, before she stepped out of Rumplestiltskin's mansion, she'd made him check his crystal ball to ensure Regina was asleep.

Granted, the sky was black and there weren't any people around this late. Belle was aware from chats with Rumple that in other parts of the USA, a woman out by herself might attract a rapist murderer. A barbarian. In this magical little town, neither she nor Rumple fretted over such a thing. He did mention of hearing about Jefferson's "date rape drug in drink" when Emma searched for Mary Margaret and gave Jefferson a lift, but Rumple was quick to point out he hadn't raped Emma nor intended to kill her—though he'd threatened such "if you can't get the hat to work". He also didn't want Regina to shatter Mary Margaret/Snow White. He thought he was keeping her safe from the abusive woman.

But at the end of the day, he was a nutter. While Rumple was certain his intent was harmless toward both Snow and Emma, his motive was cloudy. Trying to comprehend exactly what he was thinking was next-to impossible.

Anyway, Belle was going to scream at the top of her lungs if a man tried anything on her, not go quietly. She'd kick and punch and writhe. After Regina had captured her, she'd do everything in her power to keep from being another person's prisoner—even if for only thirty minutes.

Of course, nothing had happened. Not even Dr. Whale happened. Belle was perfectly safe and seen by zero souls. Though under the light surrounding the dark tower/library, she got the eerie sense someone was watching her.

Shoving the library door open, an unpleasant smell greeted her.

Puff after puff of dust cascaded from the open door, tripping over Belle almost like snowflakes. She closed her eyes and let the bunnies frolic around her hair.

Pressing her hand to the wall, she searched for the light switch. It wasn't until she pushed it and light billowed on that Belle realized she hadn't expected it to.

Rubbing her eyes, she thought to herself she'd been so anxious to see the books she'd neglected to bring a flashlight or candle. Thoroughly unprepared she was, a kid whose parent hadn't ensured she'd packed for camp. With the light surrounding the clock tower, she could have held books up to the window to read their titles or synopses.

But why would Regina keep the electricity on for twenty-nine years for nothing? It was as if the electric company had neglected to charge her and forgotten it was on…how obnoxiously banal that thought was.

Pressing her lips together, she wondered if perhaps that's why the outside of the clock tower was always lit at night. Maybe the electricians charged Regina after all, but she only kept it on for the exterior light.

She wasn't that interested in electricity, just surprised enough to spare a few internal musings.

Plunging into the depths of the library, Belle felt herself pitching forth with knee-quivering coughs, buckling down from gut-wrenching sneezes, and wiping her dust-imbued blue eyes. They were dry where the dust had flocked.

Tilting her head, her eyes roved the spines before her. Without conscious thought, her hip shoved the door to the library closed. She glimpsed spines with various font, symbols, and many background colors.

Striding to a dark purple one with yellow-gold text, she felt a dust bunny slip down the back of her neck. Her skin was growing uncomfortably hot thanks to the claustrophobia induced by the dust clumps, but her mind was too hyped to notice the perspiration that was forming to put a barrier between her bare flesh and the dust.

Below the clumps of dust, the shelf was smooth and solid. Belle tugged the book out of its tight enclosure. It took her roughly two minutes, and when she'd nearly gotten it, she realized the effort was inducing her brow to perspire. Only because the flecks dripping into her eyes were making it difficult to see what she was doing.

With one last yank and one ankle shoved on a shelf, the book was in her hands. She fondled the hardback's slipcover with eyes that gleamed, though no one was around to witness the palpable passion parading across her face.

The fingers of one hand streamed across the spines of the shelved books while her other hand clutched the book she held in a horizontal position over her wrist. She was breathing differently. Partially because of the thick particles of dust trying to wedge themselves in her nostrils but also because of being surrounded by her greatest passion.

Using her nose, she opened the book slung across her wrist. The paper glued to the inside of the hard cover as well as the first unofficial paper were both a romantic shade of red. Complementing the purple cover beautifully. Still fingering the book spines while walking distractedly, she used her nose to move along the cover pages, stopping at the dedication page to red two simple words. "For Benjamin". Closing her eyes for a fleeting moment, she tried to envision what induced the author to want to dedicate her book without elaborating. Was "Benjamin" her deceased child? Her husband? A friend, who inspired her to be the best writer she could be?

Moving on, she was reading the first page, feeling an electric shoot slither down her spine at the exciting words pulling her instantly into the story of a ghost town with actual ghosts. The first official writing of the book was a prologue, telling how the town came to be a haunted ghost town. Apparently, a rivalry between two hotheaded men which led to the entire town dying in one night in front of a bonfire during a celebration.

Walking sightlessly around the library, she was smiling to herself when her foot kicked something hard. Assuming it was the bottom of a clawed table, she stopped where she was and tried to sit on the table, moving her butt around at the height in which she assumed it'd be. All she found in her fumble was the bookshelves.

Her blind but curious foot lifted to feel for the clawed table's leg…but all she felt above the hard surface her foot had collided with was thin air. Yanking her puzzled chin out of the incredibly juicy novel, she set her sights on the object her foot had kicked.

She saw the metal outline of a black handgun. She had never seen one in person, for the deadliest weapons they had in the Enchanted Forest were swords. She'd seen plenty of those close-up, as she'd walked in her castle's cavalry supply room. She'd even handled swords a few times. When she was three, her father had caught her admiring the silver hilt of one and smiling at her own eye hue reflected back at her. Her father had been flustered and exasperated that she couldn't comprehend his sexist mindset that "if you were a boy, it'd be fine for you to touch swords, but as is, you will only succeed in hurting yourself".

His dumb attitude had led to a bit of a rebellious spirit within her, in which whenever he was towns away, she would spend ten to fifteen minutes in the cavalry supply room, holding and brandishing a sword just to spite him. Even though he didn't know, it still made her young heart feel like a million bucks.

She never hurt herself on a sword.

She knew of guns only from the little Rumplestiltskin told her of them in the short time they'd been reunited. Whatever her Storybrooke self was supposed to be, Regina had kept her confused and insane. Until Emma broke the curse, Belle had a blank span where memory should be. So if she was supposed to know what a gun was on "past memories", she certainly did not.

Shocked at the sight of the gun but unafraid, she muttered to herself, "What is a gun doing in the library?"

The most obvious answer was that Regina planted it there, but Belle knew that wasn't the conclusion she was looking for. If Regina wanted someone dead, she wouldn't use a gun. Poisoned apples were her specialty. Beyond that, she'd used swordsmen to slaughter whole villages. She certainly would not have planted the gun here to protect a building she hadn't set foot in since the dawn of the curse. Belle was sure from what she knew of Regina that the woman was far more likely to manipulate someone to murder than do the dirty work for herself.

Therefore, gnawing her bottom lip speculatively, that meant one of two things had to be true. Either the gun came to the library with the curse or the library had seen an intruder. She was sure the curse wouldn't bring about something that didn't belong, so the second conclusion was more fitting, though somewhat worrisome.

It struck her then the gun might be loaded. Although she wasn't afraid, she knew she must exhibit caution.

Blowing a thick stream of dust off a shelf, Belle ended her blow with a musty cough. Lovingly, she draped the opened book on the shelf then dropped to a crouch. Skillfully, she wrapped her skirt around the handgun's handle and lifted it.

It was heavy for a feather but far lighter than she expected. She'd never held a gun, and she'd imagined its weight would pull her forehead to the floor. It was nowhere near that heavy. She was sure if she knew there was no bullets, she could juggle it.

Tentatively, she carried the metal to the counter. Wary not to drop it. Best case scenario if it was loaded, she'd bust a hole in the bottom of a wall. Worst case scenario, she'd shoot her leg and be hospitalized. Somewhere in between, the terrible thought of the gunshot being loud enough to trigger Regina lingered. Regina tapping her on the shoulder. Carting her off to a new cage.

Belle waited until the gun was safe in a drawer on the desk before shuddering.

Then she called Rumplestiltskin.

He answered with a tone thick on incredulity. "The phone works?"

"Yes, and the electricity."

In a soft, giddy voice, he marveled, "Must be a Christmas miracle…nah, too early in the year. Don't let the commonfolk know they never had to pay their bills." He paused. "Except their landlord."

Belle couldn't wait any longer to tell him her odd news. Without preamble, she launched into her discovery. "There's a gun."

"A gun? What's a gun doing in the library?"

"Beats me."

Purple smoke thickened then evaporated before her eyes, leaving the imp. Hands hovering above the floor, he suggested, "Show me."

Stretching her closed lips, Belle slid open the drawer with the tips of her fingernails clutching the small knob.

Peering inside, Rumple inspected the object without touching it. At last, he declared, "It's Jefferson's."

"The one who almost shot Emma?"

"The very same. I talked to the salesman after he purchased the gun. Some seventeen years ago…of course, back then, I didn't have my precurse memories, but the Mad Hatter did."

Temporarily, Belle squeezed her eyes shut. Massaging her wrist, she mumbled, "What's his gun doing here?" Rumple was taking ragged breaths and swiping some of the bunnies away from his face.

Fingering the metal exterior of the gun with a studious frown, Rumple replied, "That's the question, isn't it? Perhaps some petty revenge against Regina. I told him I won't do his dirty work for him. Maybe he was searching for a spell book to get rid of her."

Belle considered this. "That would make sense…except none of the books look like they've been touched recently."

To add to her musings, Rumplestiltskin added, "He wouldn't expect to run into her here, and it makes no sense for him to bring a gun to gawk at book spines."

Belle twitched her foot then pressed her ankle to the desk. "Why would he?"

Rumple wet his lips as his brain ticked and eyes stared at the gun. He let out a stilted cough. "Show me where you found it."

Grabbing his wrist with her fingertips, Belle guided him then pointed. Rumple studied the floor, cocking his head and muttering so softly to himself Belle couldn't make the words out. It was a type of special spell, which she knew without being told because Rumple never muttered to himself. He was more the type to give too little information than too much. Most spells didn't require talking.

Red glowed on the floor in two man shapes.

"He was meeting someone here," Rumple replied in his normal voice before hacking up a dust bunny. "Jeesh, these things are bigger than Texas and sneakier than a black cat."

Belle shivered. "Who would Jefferson be meeting…in a library clogged with dust?"

Rumple and Belle both inspected the library, hunting for something that didn't belong in a book lair. After hunting for fifteen minutes, Belle paused in her search to duck into the bathroom.

That was where she found the arrow lying lazily on the sink. In the sink was a flask.

Removing the lid, she sniffed the liquid. "Irish coffee!" she declared loudly, meaning for Rumple to overhear.

He appeared at her side and thumbed the black WS on the dark blue flask. "He'll be back." Grimly, he set his jaw. "I'll bet this is his most expensive of few possessions…As long as he remembers he left it, he'll be back."