I'm Not a Lonely-Hearts Club
By Sarajane
Author Note: In this alternate universe, Belle never leaves to go find Maurice in the woods.
"Monsieur D'Arque! It's really quite simple," Gaston said, reaching out with his left hand and gesturing to the owner of the insane asylum as his lackey LeFou did the same. "YOU threaten to lock up Belle's father, and she marries me!"
"You really have a way with romance, Gaston," chirped LeFou.
"I have only one question in the matter," D'Arque intoned, as LeFou and Gaston watched his fingers curl into claws and spike into the table in front of them. "How much?" Gaston reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of gold coins. He passed them to D'Arque.
"Does this work for you?" he inquired.
"Indeed it does," D'Arque replied with a sneer, "Now, the question is… when?"
"Tomorrow," Gaston replied with a slick smirk, "Ah, tomorrow will be my wedding day! Cheers!" They raised their glasses and put everything in order for their plot.
The next morning, they all woke up as early as possible, even though they had had barely any sleep the previous night. (That late-night meeting had taken up most of their usual sleep time).
"The plan will work perfectly," Gaston said, extending his arm in triumph and accidentally (or purposely) smacking LeFou in the face with it. The three men were making their way over to Belle's house, which was across town from Gaston and LeFou's houses and even farther from D'Arque's. Gaston was in the lead of the line – with his enormous height and muscles, he was impossible to miss as a few early-bird villagers peeked out of their doors and saw the commotion.
"What's going on?" inquired the village baker.
"We're going to take Belle's loony old father to the Maison des Lunes," Gaston said happily.
"I'll come with you," the baker volunteered. So did several other residents of the village. By the time they ended up at Belle's house, there were about fifty men grouped together, ready to do what needed to be done.
There was just one problem… Maurice was nowhere to be found. Gaston discovered this when he had been knocking on the door of Belle's house for about ten minutes straight. The mob was looking incredibly annoyed, as if they had come for nothing.
"Hel-lo," Gaston called. "Maurice?" He started banging harder. "MAURICE! COME ON, OLD MAN! WAKE UP!"
"Gaston, what did you bring us here for?" inquired one villager. Gaston's response was to look directly at the man and growl loudly. The man squeaked and hid behind someone else. A few more minutes of knocking and yelling went on before…
"Gaston!" called a voice, as a young woman made her way up to the mob. "What are you DOING?"
"Belle!" Gaston exclaimed, whirling around, "We were just… looking for your father." Gaston smiled evilly, walking over and putting his hand on Belle's shoulder. She shrugged it off angrily.
"I don't know why YOU would be doing that. And what is Monsieur D'Arque doing here?"
"Well, Belle," Gaston replied, putting his finger under his chin and pretending to think, "Your father is a lunatic. The whole town knows that. Monsieur D'Arque would like to find him and put him away… Just so he'll be safe, you know."
"My father's not crazy!" Belle snapped, "You know he's not."
"And that's exactly what I was trying to tell Monsieur D'Arque. But maybe I could be a bit more persuasive if you… if YOU do something for me."
"Like WHAT, Gaston?" she shot back.
"Marry me." Gaston stepped in and grabbed her by the shoulders, leaning in to try and kiss her. She shook him off roughly and slapped him.
"Never!" she exclaimed.
"You… you…!" Gaston's face went bright red. His eyes were as cold as ice. He raised his hand to hit her back, but the villagers gasped and he lowered his hand. "Where's your father, Belle! We'll take him away!"
"My father's not here!" she exclaimed, "He's away at a fair!"
"Liar!"
"I'm not lying!"
"You're covering for him!"
"Listen," hissed D'Arque suddenly, "This arguing is useless. If she will not tell us where her dear father is… Well, then… We all know she's just as crazy as he is. We'll take her instead."