Author's Note: Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it? I've been stuck drawing lately, and I got into an RP and I felt like I had to write something... then, I realized that I had several stories up here that I hadn't even finished yet! So, here you go, the fifth chapter to Sindey City.

BTW, Kaze is NOT a Disney Character. It's Tsukai-Kaze's prize for figuring out who Mister T was! Good for her, yeah? laughs There's one more person who figured him out, but she won't come for a while; I've been sorting things out and that's just how it works. Le sigh.

Next Chapter is another Jim Hawkins one. READ AND REVIEW, S'IL VOUS PLAIT, AND NO FLAMES!

Sindey City: Winter Troubles

Chapter 5

Belle held the stack of light-yellow campaign pamphlets guardedly against her chest as the wind made another pass at her, the cold, blustering air sending her skirt billowing halfway up her legs. The young woman made a quick move to duck behind a pick up truck that someone had parked nearby, still protecting her papers, and she waited for the wind's howl to die down. She had spent a long while in the supermarket parking lot, tucking flyers behind people's windshield wipers with another one of Mme DeChâteaupers's campaign volunteers, Ms. Kaze. The wind had played on and off during their work, disappearing for five minutes at a time before coming back, full howl, into the parking lot. Both she and Kaze had lost many papers that way, and they determined they wouldn't let it happen again. A few, cold moments after Belle had protected herself behind the vehicle, the wind's force and noise decreased, soon fading into the gray winter sky.

Belle released a huffy sigh that appeared and disappeared as a brief, white mist.

"Ms. Belle? Are you okay?" Kaze's voice inquired from another part of the parking lot, accompanied by the padding of her booted feet as she made her approach.

"I'm fine, Kaze, thank you," Belle replied, straightening out her dress and stepping out into the street. She looked down at her papers with a disappointed sigh. The wind had crinkled the lot of them rather nicely. What sort of impression would Mme DeChâteaupers have on these people if all of the campaign flyers they handed out were crumpled up?

Kaze finally arrived at Belle's side, her eyebrows knitted just beneath the edge of her beanie as she fingered the papers in her stack, seemingly counting the lot. "I have eight left," she told Belle, rubbing her cold nose with her gloved hands. She looked up hopefully. "How many do you have?"

Belle, who had just finished counting her own wrinkled stack, let out a slight groan. "Twelve," she answered. Adding up the numbers almost instantly in her head, she added, "That makes twenty more cars to put them on."

"I'm tired," Kaze complained upon hearing the news. "Can't we take a break for now? We've worked all morning on this already."

"I know," Belle responded, understanding the grief but also understanding her responsibility. "But, we have a job to do. I think that we should finish what we started."

"I'm not saying we shouldn't," the younger girl said. "I just want to take a break. It's cold, the wind hates us, and we haven't had a rest yet. Let's get a hot cocoa or something. Rest for a few minutes. Then, we can just finish the last twenty."

Belle pursed her lips, pondering over the situation. "Well…"

"Please, Ms. Belle?" Kaze begged, looking up at her with big, imploring eyes. "I swear, after I'm rested, I'll be a lot faster with passing these things out! I just need some hot cocoa, right now!"

The last words echoed through the empty lot, retaining every nuance of annoyance as it turned the heads of the others walking along the way. Belle, though silent for a short while, broke out into laughter, trying to muffle the impolite noise with her hands to little avail. It took Kaze a moment or so to realize what had happened, and she bowed her head, realizing her own childishness with more than a little shame.

"Forgive me," she murmured, looking away.

"It's all right," Belle reassured her, patting the younger girl's back genially. "And, in any case, you're right… we do need a break."

Belle took the papers from her partner's hand, adding it to her own, and she straightened out the stack against the hood of a scratched up van sitting nearby. Tucking the papers underneath her arm, she motioned for Kaze to follow.

"Come on. I know this great café nearby."

The Good Fairies' was a pretty, old fashioned coffee shop sitting in the small stores just a block or so from the supermarket parking lot that the two campaigners had come from. It sat sandwiched between Fagen's antique shop and Jessie's miniatures, adding its own sense of antiquity to the already old-fashioned feel of the other stores. Outside, one large, glass window with edges painted with green, red, and blue flowers, opened to the cozy café. When one walked through the front door, a cheery bell rang above, and the three owners, Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, stepped out to greet you. The coffee shop was small, but it gave a cozy atmosphere that only made the experience so much better.

Belle and Kaze sat at a round, wooden table by the window, sipping the hot chocolate that the kind old woman Flora had just given them. Belle gazed dreamily out at the snow-covered city outside, fingers tapping with lazy content against the polished table surface. Work had swamped her well that year, especially the past month, when Mme DeChâteaupers's campaign group had decided they needed to step up a little on their efforts. Seemingly, Sir Claude Frollo, despite the problems during his past term as Sindey's Mayor, had a wide and trusting audience. They needed to work rather hard to keep up.

Belle knew the importance of winning this electoral race, but the wish to take some down time never seemed to disappear from her thoughts. Moments like this, sitting down at a windowside table, lazily sipping at sweet hot chocolate on a bitter winter day… they didn't come around too often, not then. She wanted to break away from the routine drudgery of work and fall into something new, something she could enjoy.

Her eyes wandered silently to where Kaze sat, swirling the hot chocolate in the Styrofoam cup with more than a little satisfaction. Belle's face split into a smile. Seemed she wasn't the only one with these feelings.

The bell at the front rung merrily, declaring a new addition to the café, and Belle, out of curiosity, turned her head to glance at whomever had come in. A round, friendly woman closed the door, a few grocery bags slung on her elbows, her cheeks red and rosy from the cold.

"Hello, Mrs. Potts," Merryweather greeted from behind the counter. "How are you doing today?"

"Fine, dear," she replied, dropping her grocery bags beside the nearest table. "It's a little cold today. Could you be a dear and pour me a spot of tea, if it isn't too much trouble?"

"Well, of course," Flora said, popping up from seemingly nowhere, teapot in hand. "What trouble would there be in that?"

The three shared a friendly laugh, and Belle couldn't help but feel warm. She smiled gently, watching the old friends talk amongst one another, exchanging greetings and news, asking one another to pass on messages to their other old friends. She only guessed that the three knew each other for a long while; the notion further warmed Belle's heart. It seemed friendships those days came and went with little time passing between a first hello and a final goodbye. It must take a lot of dedication to maintain a relationship in this busy world, dedication that people more often than not spent upon themselves or their careers… friendships came as little more than extra burdens upon an already over-badgered load or as a mere ghost haunting the fringes of one's life.

A jingle of coins hitting the floor brought Belle from her musings.

"Oops," Mrs. Potts chuckled, having apparently dropped the change Mrs. Flora had tried to had her. The old woman bent down to retrieve the fallen coins, searching the floor with quick eyes and moving about on her knees to pick up the dimes and pennies. It so happened that one had managed to roll over beside Belle's table, and the old woman had come about to pick up her change, when she spotted the yellow pamphlets Belle had left out.

"Oh, are you volunteers for Mrs. DeChâteaupers's campaign?" she asked, reading the print on the paper.

"Oh, yes," Belle said, sitting up straighter in her seat and looking up at Mrs. Potts with a smile. She had noticed the genuinely interested tone of the older woman's voice. "We were just taking a break from handing out flyers."

"That's wonderful, dear," the old woman said with a sparkle-eyed smile. "She seems a lovely candidate to replace Mayor Frollo."

"'Course she is," Kaze murmured beneath her breath, a slight bitterness in her tone.

Belle shot her a glance, and Kaze, as if out of shame, dropped her head down to look at the last bit of hot cocoa that sat at the bottom of her cup.

"Do you take donations?" Mrs. Potts asked, taking no notice of Kaze's words. She reached down into a large purse hanging from one shoulder. "I'd like to help you in your campaign."

"Of course, thank you!" Belle replied, nodding her head quickly and eagerly. "I'm sure Mme DeChâteaupers would be very pleased."

Mrs. Potts laughed in agreement, smiling genially before turning to take a concentrated look into her purse. She had been rummaging around with her fingers for a while, and apparently, she hadn't yet come across whatever it was that she searched for. She took a few moments to sift through her items, with still no more luck, before pulling the bag from her shoulder and, with an apologetic glance, setting it down at the edge of Belle and Kaze's table. One by one, she removed every item in her bag, in the end leaving a good-sized pile of make up, receipts, coinage, and other miscellany. None of which seemed to be what she was looking for.

"I'm sorry, dear," she sighed in defeat, replacing the things to their rightful positions in her purse. "I suppose I left my checkbook at home, and I'm afraid I used all of my large bills today for groceries…"

"Oh," Belle said, trying to keep her smile intact despite this development. She shrugged, letting out a slight laugh as if to keep casual, but she couldn't hide the slight disappointment in her voice well enough. "Well, it's okay. You don't have to…"

"Well," Mrs. Potts began, taking note of Belle's somewhat unhappy tone, "we could drop by my house and I'll get my checkbook."

"I suppose we could do that," Belle started, sounding and feeling excited, before yet again remembering the pile of light-yellow papers and her duty to pass them out. Her stature became somewhat limp at the thought, and her eyes wandered over to the flyers sitting at the edge of the table with innocent and wrinkled faces. "But, I don't know if I can…"

Kaze, noticing her colleague's glance and realizing its meaning, cut in immediately. "Of course you can!" She reached down swiftly, snapping the papers into her arms and holding them against her chest, as if to keep Belle from declining her offer. "I'll finish this last bit up, no problem," she continued, rifling her fingers through the sheets as if it were nothing.

"Are you sure?" Belle asked worriedly. She knew how much Kaze disliked this sort of mundane work, despite the unconcerned look the younger woman tried to convey.

"Oh, it'll be fine," the girl said, nodding her head. "It's nothing, really. And, in any case," she added with a grin, "I think Mme DeChâteaupers would be really pleased with that donation."

Belle noted the smile with a slight bit of surprise before smiling in understanding. Both she and Kaze knew how much Belle wanted Mme DeChâteaupers to understand her passion for the campaign. But, lately, Belle had little opportunity to prove herself; instead of dealing with the more hands-on bits of their work, the woman had assigned her things along the line of research and publicity. During the past few weeks, Belle had found herself either trapped away in a room with a computer, or wandering around the streets, handing out buttons and posters or begging for donations. The better she did now the better Mme DeChâteaupers would think of her… this donation would help a lot.

"Well, alright then," she said finally, standing up in a decided manner and straightening out the lap of her blue dress. She looked to the old woman. "I'll be happy to take your donation Mrs. Potts."

The old woman nodded her head. "Well, let's go then, now shall we?"

Grabbing her groceries the old woman said her goodbyes to Kaze and to her good friends, the "three fairies." The three old ladies bid her farewell, sending her off with a Styrofoam cup filled with hot cocoa and a "see you later" spoken from smiling mouths. Apparently, it wasn't often when Mrs. Potts came around; the friends shared a round of hugs between them, as if genuinely afraid that a long while would pass before they next saw one another.

Belle said her own goodbyes, promising to meet Kaze again at the next campaign meeting before exiting under the cheerful bell's ringing, out into the cold winter air.

"Be a bit careful, dear, the steps are a bit slippery from the snow."

Belle nodded in understanding, shifting the weight of two bulging grocery bags that she had volunteered to carry up to Mrs. Potts house.

The two had driven there in the old woman's car, making their way into the richer portion of Sindey City. They drove in through a black iron gate that moved on electric hinges as the car sat patiently before it, into a hilly area, now covered in snow, with roads that twisted and turned about the bulging mounds. Sets of houses looked out toward the road, their size and magnificence easily making them mansions, with cheerfully lit windows and chimneys that puffed with dark smoke from a fire probably burning quite merrily inside. Belle had never been there before; she took to watching the brilliant households with awe as Mrs. Potts drove by at a cautious pace, counting out every house that still had Christmas lights hanging from their eaves.

After a while, they arrived to what seemed the end of the lane, turning into a driveway that someone must've swept free of snow. The moment Belle had seen it, her mind wandered off to the castles she remembered from fairy tales often heard and read… It sat alone atop what seemed the tallest hill in the area; it overlooked the rest of the neighborhood like a lurking beast, and it was the largest of all of them. A girdle of dead, jagged-limbed trees grew about them, like a forest, blocking them away from the other mansions.

"You must live a very comfortable life," Belle murmured, taking a few cautious steps up the small case of stairs that lead up to the porch of Mrs. Pott's residence. She ran her foot hesitantly over the first stone-hewn step, making sure she wasn't about to walk onto ice, looking up at the tall and gloomy face of the mansion before her. For some reason, the house gave an air of darkness, as if whoever lived inside did so unhappily. The windows were heavily draped and darkened, staring out lifelessly at the world outside. But, Belle thought, taking another step up the case, that doesn't sound like Mrs. Potts at all…

"A comfortable life?" Mrs. Potts began, stopping for a moment with her lips pursed in thought. "Well, I suppose you could say that," the old woman said with a chuckle, glancing over her shoulder at Belle and continuing her pace up the stair. "I'm only here to take care of Master Best."

In a moment, she stopped, reaching the top with a practiced ease. Putting her bags down, she rummaged through her purse, pulling out a ring of keys only a second or so later.

"Master Best?" Belle inquired, approaching the porch slowly. The name sounded slightly familiar.

"Yes, dear, he owns the house," Mrs. Potts said, waiting for Belle to arrive beside her before putting the key in the knob and opening the door. Picking up her bags, she took a few steps into the house, before dropping them once again several feet into the foyer. Letting out a tired sigh, she turned and motioned Belle to come in.

Belle followed, awed by the vast size of the entrance hall, looking up at an unlit chandelier that hung silently above the both of them like a dusty, crystalline spider. Along both side walls, a set of carpeted stairs led up to a second level, a small railed catwalk of a hallway that followed along the walls before ending at a set of wooden doors. Faded red draperies ran down to the floor, hanging at intervals beneath the staircases and upper walkway, some whose bottom edges wisped about in the slight chill coming in through the open front door, ripped and frayed as if some animal had attacked them in anger. Between the curtains, sullen portraits stared out with severe eyes from their rusted gold frames. The hall was lit dimly by a set of electrical lights, fashioned to look like candles and set upon iron sconces from the walls above the gloomy paintings.

Belle looked about her with an intensifying curiosity, managing to pull herself from her reverie just before she bumped into Mrs. Potts. Embarrassed by her open-mouthed interest, Belle quickly put the set of groceries down beside the ones that the old woman had already deposited on the floor, bowing her head slightly.

"I'll just get my checkbook, then, alright, love?" Mrs. Potts said, taking a few steps down the carpeted floor toward a set of twin doors at the other end of the foyer.

"Of course," Belle replied, nodding.

Mrs. Potts was halfway there when she stopped suddenly, as if a thought had suddenly struck her. She turned with a slight slowness, her brow furrowed with a slight concern. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stay in the foyer, dear," she began, looking apologetic but stern.

The look on her face slightly confused Belle, but she said nothing other than that she understood. But, those words didn't get rid of whatever idea was ailing the old woman.

"I'm sorry if it seems rude," Mrs. Potts continued, looking more than a little guilty. Apparently, she hadn't grown up thinking leaving guests in the entrance hall was acceptable. "I'm just a little afraid that Master Best…" She trailed off, losing herself in a thought or perhaps not wanting to say.

"It's alright," Belle reassured her, smiling warmly in hopes of allaying some of the woman's troubles. Though, she admitted inwardly, this Master Best had already begun to pique the curiosity she spent her time vehemently trying to repress.

Mrs. Potts seemed finally calmed enough to leave Belle alone, though not without another full-hearted apology before she finally came to the end of the hall and disappeared behind the twin doors.

It didn't take long for Belle's interest to annoy her out of just standing cautiously beside the groceries (which she had originally planned), and she found herself wandering along the walls, glancing at every painting with a scrutinizing curiosity, running her fingers against every blood-red drape. After a while, Belle found herself examining one of the tattered curtains. As she looked upon the torn cloth, a sudden whirlwind of ideas and possible scenarios reasoning its state stormed into her mind. Could an animal have done this? A knife? Perhaps… perhaps that enigma, that Master Best… could he have done this?

"Whoever lives here," she thought aloud, fingering the ripped edge tenderly, "must be a very angry person."

"Ah ha, mademoiselle, you are halfway there!"

Belle jumped at the new voice, letting go of the tapestry and turning round, hiding her hands behind her back like a child that had just done something wrong.

A man stood before her now, tall and thin with a long nose and a large mouth, now laughing. His brown hair was tied back into a ponytail with a neat yellow ribbon, and he wore a loose-sleeved button up shirt and a tie. He seemed something of a butler gone slightly casual.

"No need to jump like a caught criminal, mademoiselle!" the man reassured her, chuckling at her guilt-ridden expression. "You have done no wrong!"

Belle laughed somewhat embarrassedly, putting a hand to her cheek to feel its temperature, to make sure she didn't blush. "You startled me!" she told him, noticing the warmth of her cheeks and knowing her embarrassment now flushed her face pink.

"I apologize full-heartedly then," the man said, bowing slightly and offering his hand, palm up, to receive hers. "I am Lumière, one of Master Best's butlers."

Belle put her hand into his. "Belle," she replied, holding back a giggle as he kissed her hand, like one of those old fashioned gentlemen.

"Belle!" Lumiere repeated, smiling broadly. "Beauty… what a wonderfully appropriate name, non?"

"I suppose," Belle answered. She coughed awkwardly. "What did you mean by 'halfway there?' I'm sorry, but I didn't completely understand…"

"You said that whoever lived here was angry," Lumiere began. "And, he is… but there is something more."

"Something…more?"

"Oh, nothing a beautiful woman like yourself should bother yourself with," he said, shaking off the question more like something he felt he wasn't allowed to discuss than something he didn't want to take the time to say. Belle could do little more than nod, more confused and curious now than when she had arrived.

"Well, Belle, what brings you here?" Lumiere inquired, ending the brief silence and looking at her as if she were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Oh, well, I'm a volunteer in Mme DeChateaupers's campaign, and Mrs. Potts offered me a donation," she answered, trying to ignore Lumiere's stares. "But she'd forgotten her checkbook, so she's asked me to wait here while she gets it."

"Ah, c'est magnifique!" Lumiere said, clapping his hands together. "I hope that this will help you well on your campaign, Mademoise—"

"What is she doing in my house!" A sudden voice growled from above, deep and angry.

Lumiere seemed to cringe at the noise, his expression contorting to extreme worry, and he swiftly turned, taking a step in front of Belle as if to hide her.

"Master Best!" Lumiere began, a forced smile playing across his features. "You are feeling better I presu—"

"What is she doing in here?" the man demanded again, his voice becoming louder, more angry.

Master Best! Belle listened to the rage in his voice, to the way he spoke to Lumiere, and anger slowly began to bubble within her. No one had the right to speak that way to anyone!

"Now you listen here—" Belle started, looking up to where the butler spoke, but when she saw him… her voice caught in her throat, becoming a shocked gasp. She clapped her hands over her mouth, looking away with her eyes shut against the world, but that image…

Master Best seemed little more than a monster, lurking upwards in the shadows… the dim light bathed half his body in a hellish glow, casting light upon a crouched back seemingly bent in permanence, swollen arms and hands, a face bandaged completely but for the mouth and a pair of eyes, glaring out from beneath the tightly wound swathes, intensely angry.

Why? For what reason in the world could he look that way…?

But Belle couldn't forever dwell upon that image, the sounds of Lumiere's hastened explanations and Master Best's angry interruptions once again alerting her to the situation. Belle looked back up, cringing slightly at the sight but slowly forcing herself desensitized. The man was looking at her, his gaze piercing her through like a lance, beholding her with eyes that shone with absolute hate. It felt as if he regarded her as evil, as if she had committed the greatest sin the moment she had stepped into his house. She was little more than an intruder.

"Master Best!"

Mrs. Potts burst suddenly from the twin doors at the end of the hall, stopping just beside Lumiere with her arms outstretched, looking like she were protecting Belle from bodily harm. Master Best turned his gaze on her, intermittently glancing at Belle, his anger far from dwindling.

"It wasn't her fault, sir, it was mine, completely," Mrs. Potts tried to assure him, her voice shaking in fear.

"You know better than to let people in here!" Best exploded, his hands gripping the walkway railings so tight it seemed that the wood would splinter from the strength of his swollen fingers.

"I know, sir, I'm very sorry!" the old woman said, bowing her head in shame. "But, you see, she was trying to—"

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" His words were loud, intense, deep, final. Belle jumped at the anger, hearing in it pain and sadness as well. Halfway there indeed… but that rage leapt at her the hardest, overwhelming those other feelings like a tsunami over eddies, and she found herself feeling not only fear but an opposing anger as well. Mrs. Potts and Lumiere seemed rather frightened themselves, but they said nothing, only nodded, bowing and apologizing to their master. Belle found herself wanting to scream at him, demand his manners, demand so many things, but Mrs. Potts had grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her out through the open entry door before any of her chastising words could reach Master Best's ears.

Outside, the snow had begun to fall again, softly flurrying downward onto the hills and dead trees. Mrs. Potts didn't let go off Belle until the both of them had struggled awkwardly down the set of stairs and stood beside the woman's car.

"That man!" Belle said finally, the moment she felt Mrs. Potts fingers slip from her wrist.

"Master Adam Best," Mrs. Potts said with a weary nod, leaning against the hood of her car as if to keep her from falling. She looked worried and upset herself. "I shouldn't have brought you here," the woman said, looking at Belle with large, guilty eyes. "It was a bad idea… but I so wanted to help with the campaign and…" The old woman's eyes grew wide, and she looked as if she wanted to hit herself. "I plumb forgot about the check! I was looking for my checkbook when I heard Master Best—oh dear!"

"No worries," Belle told her, not wanting to give the woman something else to worry about. She seemed close to having a heart attack! "If you want, I can drive here sometime this week to pick it up, it's not a problem."

Mrs. Potts looked at her as if she were crazy. "Are you sure about that? Master Best—"

"I don't mind at all," Belle said, determinedly. In fact, she wouldn't mind seeing this Master Adam Best again; if that man needed anything it was a good scolding… Mrs. Potts couldn't do it, Lumiere couldn't do it, but Belle… Servitude hadn't blinded her to humanity, to what people deserve, to what people need. People, including Mrs. Potts and Lumiere, didn't deserve to be stepped on and yelled at like that!

"Well… I suppose it'd be alright," Mrs. Potts said after a moment, still looking as if she considered it all a bad idea. "I won't be able to leave the mansion for the rest of the week, and I suppose…" She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "Well," she said finally, standing from the car's hood and extending a hand for Belle to shake, "I'll see you later, then?"

"Of course," Belle said. She gripped Mrs. Pott's hand tightly. She'd be back.

And... that's it. It's been a while since I've written anything, so I apologize if anything seems shoddy or bad, and all that jazz. I hope I kept them in character... most of this was written when my brain was off somewhere being tired. Heh. Well, anyway, read it, like it, hate it, review it. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, Please!