I do not own Once Upon a Time

Chapter 9 Lost in Thought

When Belle was fourteen, she had been declared rather odd for wishing to spend all her time curled up in her father's study, while he was away visiting, reading from sunup to sun down. Even her mother, who had always encouraged Belle's bookish ways, had insisted that the pursuit of an array of homemaking skills would prove useful in the future. She loved to please her parents, and would do the appropriate activity requested, but in the back of her mind, she would always long for the quiet of the study and the adventure of her books.

When her mother fell ill six months before her seventeenth birthday and she essentially became the woman of the house, she found a new found sense of joy by being useful and having purpose. She suddenly wasn't the child sneaking away to steal a page or two of an adventure but one who rose at dawn to ready the home for the day, was her mother's nurse and dearest friend through the worst of her illness, she took her mother's place at social events, and became rock and anchor to her father. Her mother's death stole much of her happiness, but the busy usefulness that she had found in being the woman of the house gave her a reprieve from the soul crushing grief that sought to latch itself onto her. Books would always be a pleasure, but she now found great solace in being useful-in having a sense of purpose.

She put down the book that Mr. Gold had sent to her via her now temporary personal maid, Mary, realizing she had looked at the same page half a dozen times. She felt absolutely and completely useless. Mary had been sent to help her dress, tend to her needs, and fetch her meals. Belle had been commanded by the doctor to stay as still as possible for a week or two to make sure the bone was healing properly and not jostled. Thus she could do nothing for herself, and therefore could do nothing for others. She had no purpose other than to sit on the bed or on a chair in her room and not move too much. Her bruises thanked her, her arm thanked her, but her mind balked at the confines of her comfortable prison.

She shook her head as hot, selfish tears pricked her cheeks. She had no reason to wallow in self pity, as she had been given every comfort imaginable. Everyone had been extraordinarily kind. She was heartily ashamed of herself. A knock at her door caused her to jump and she wiped her tears away hurriedly as Mr. Jeffrey came in.

'What's wrong, little Rabbit? Are you in pain, shall I ask Mary to get you something?'

'Oh no, please don't, Mr. Jeffrey, I feel like a burden enough already. I am in no great pain.' She tried to dry any stray tears that had managed to escape her first and hurried attempt. 'I-I'm just being selfish is all.'

'Faults you may have, though I'll always claim you to be as near an angel as any human can get, but selfishness is not something I've seen you struggle with. What makes you think you suffer from it now?'

'I think I must be bored.' Her voice cracked, though she knew that was not the whole of the situation. She thought more of it. 'You know how I told you that teaching Bae gave me purpose?'

'Mmmm' Her friend nodded.

'I-I think the busyness of it, having a job to do and wanting to do it well, seeing something come out of it has brought me great joy and has allowed me not to think about-about Mama and Papa as keenly I think-not that I have forgotten them, of course. It's just that sitting here with nothing else but my own thoughts and nothing but keeping my own amusements makes them not being here hurt so much worse.'

Belle rubbed her forehead with her hand. 'I think I will just be glad when I can take care of myself again and can teach Bae again, and things can go back to the way they were. And I know that's a rather silly thing for me to cry over, but there it is.' And a fresh sob escaped her despite her attempts to keep it away.

'There, there, my dear. I don't think you are being selfish at all-merely lost for a bit. It'll turn out alright, you'll see. You are already a much better invalid than your employer was-he was an absolute boar!'

'Mr. Jeffrey! I am sure there is no comparison. He must have been so very hurt, and in so much pain.' She wrung her head in fresh shame. Of course, so many had it worse than her. She would most likely fully recover from her accident, while Mr. Gold would forever live with the pain and scars of whatever had happened to him. Mr. Jeffery seemed to sense the need to change the subject.

'Now! It's my last day here and I am here to see you before I go back home tomorrow morning, but I certainly have time for a game before I leave, hmmm?'

'That would be nice, thank you.' She smiled. He smiled back.

'I miss your parents too, little Rabbit.' He said softly, knowing what was the source of what was most painful for Belle. Another tear escaped and Belle didn't try to wipe that one away.

Many know the comfort of a good cry and a burden spoken aloud to closest friends. Such were the feelings of Belle after she had spoken to her Godfather. She still struggled with dependency on Mary, still found a tear or two escape when thoughts of the little parsonage with its garden she loved to tend and the little nook she would escape to. Her father's study and her mother's morning room, where they studied together. These bittersweet memories would forever hold a place of both comfort and sorrow, but the overwhelming, drowning nature of it would eventually not be so suffocating, especially when she was at last doing something of value.

Bae appearing with a reader in hand to ask if she could continue with his lessons, made her very happy indeed.

'Papa says I'm not to bother you and if I tire you at all you're to throw me out promptly.'

'Were those his very words then?' Belle suppressed a giggle. 'You have a good memory, little Bae.' It did amuse Belle a little that if those were the words of Mr. Gold, which she guessed they were, how different things were than when she first came-how nervous he had been that she would be in charge of his son. Now that she had gotten to know him a little and had seen his great love for his son, she knew that this teasing phrase he had given Bae showed that he trusted her-trusted her with her words and her judgment. He must know that she would never throw Bae to the side like Cora did with her children, or perhaps other adults that kept to the notion that children were nothing but a tiresome bother. If she did become fatigued with his never ending supply of energy, she hoped he knew that she would do so lovingly. In fact, she had discovered that she loved Bae with her very soul, surely second only to Mr. Gold himself, which she would concur, loved him more than she had ever seen a father love a child, and she knew how much her father had loved her!

'So you don't mind?' Bae continued. 'And maybe I can perhaps look through and you read to me the book of fairy tales? I miss it and Papa has been very somber here lately.'

Belle would have been amused at his use of the word he had learned those months ago, if it hadn't been used to describe his father.

'I'm sorry to hear that, Bae, of course I'll read to you.' She smiled warmly. He beamed and nestled close to her and they worked on lessons together. It had been a few weeks since they had done them, and there were some things he had forgotten since they had studied, but in only an hour he was picking up where he left off.

After another hour went by and she was reading another tale to her pupil Mr. Gold appeared in the doorway. His cane gave him away before he had made it to where she could see him, so they both looked up at the approaching figure, and his expression was both unreadable, and yet exactly a look that was exactly as Bae had said-Somber.

'Bae, I wondered where you were hiding. I hope you aren't tiring Miss French.'

'He isn't, I assure you.' Belle smiled, causing a tight one to answer, though it didn't seem very happy.

'And how are you? How are you feeling?' He ventured, shifting his weight.

'Quite well, Mr. Gold, recovering nicely, I think. In fact, I hope the doctor's next visit will be him allowing me to venture to the schoolroom and the library.'

'No need to overexert yourself, Miss French.' He said with conviction, Bae at this point was fidgeting beside Belle, very much agitated with the interruption, but being the well behaved lad he was, had yet to make his own interruption into the adult's discussion.

Belle shook her head in assurance that she would certainly not be overexerting herself, and even if she was, Belle was determined that once the Doctor told her she could shift without worry of refracturing her arm, she would only be dependent on Mary's help with getting ready, and nothing else.

'Do you mind if I begin formal lessons again once I am allowed to go to the schoolroom? I feel so behind anyway, what with autumn on our tails.'

Mr. Gold looked at her seriously, the look of somberness only deepening. 'Only if you're sure.'

Bae couldn't help but bounce where he was and declaring that he was sure it would be a very good idea indeed, to both of the adult's laughter. Belle was happy that he was so enthused about starting again. As a child she had loved learning, but knew she had always been a bit odd for doing so. To see that same enthusiasm in a child she was teaching brought such joy to her heart.

The days before the doctor came by once more and declared Belle reasonably recovered to walk the halls of Dark Manor finally came. To her great delight, Mr. Gold invited her to dinner that very evening, though his treatment of her was markedly different than before.

Not that he was any warmer, or kinder than he had already been. After the confrontation with his perceived notions about his looks, she had learned that all the coldness that she had seen when she first came to Dark Manor seemed to come from his own battles with the dark thoughts he had towards himself. She also knew he held on to anger at times, as shown with his initial reasons for having the Mills family come to Dark Manor. However, it had been a good few months since he had allowed several layers to melt away, and although there were still layers left to be discovered, she liked to think that what she saw was only allowed to a precious few in his life.

No, the marked difference that she saw was how he looked at her as if she would disappear into thin air and he limped near her to her seat at the table as if she might break. His eye was wilder, his manner seemed less sure. Belle was under no such allusions as Mr. Jeffery seemed to be. She was sure that her sling was the constant reminder of her injury and he had become a friend to her-a friend who treated her as an equal, and a friend that would be concerned for her safety. If Belle found herself thinking of Mr. Gold as something quite dear, she could only blame herself for such once sided feelings.

Author's note: A shorter chapter this time, my apologies. I have at least one more chapter that will include a lot of fluffy goodness before we get into another round of exciting chapters.

I tried to research recovery of a broken bone during Victorian times, but I wasn't having much luck. However, I know someone who had a broken bone a while back and I know that she couldn't move very much when she was in her rudimentary wrap before they made the hard cast. I assumed something similar would have to happen in this situation? Who knows...Again, sorry for any inaccuracies.

I hope you enjoyed this!