Belle had to go. With the serum a failure there was simply no more getting around it. He was too close to her, he wanted her too much. And it was getting worse by the day. It wasn't just how he acted when he was around her that worried him, but now it was his thoughts that he found disturbing. He wasn't just thinking things that could be easily excused male hormones run amuck. He wasn't just thinking of inadequate sex like he'd experienced with Milah or the raunchy urges he'd had with Cora. Her presence brought out something different in him, something tender-a word he would never have thought to describe himself with in the last hundred years, and yet here he was. In his imagination, he wasn't just seeing himself kissing her, though he did plenty of picturing that, he saw them laying together in bed, talking about idle prattle. He had the urge to stroke is fingers through her hair and rub her back. Then last night, the unimaginable...the words "Will you marry me?" had popped into his head seemingly from out of nowhere. His pulse began to thud rapidly against his chest and he broke out into a cold sweat. It wasn't the voice of the Seer in his head…it had been his own. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have been considered a strange phenomenon, especially when he'd sat in his chair picturing the woman downstairs as he was. But crisp and clean as the words were with a slight echo, in an undeniable, unquestioning tone…suddenly his curiosity as to whether or not the things he saw in his head were boyish fantasy or vision became a fear.
How often had he seen something in his head of her wearing clothes that were not from this world? Were these truly just fantasies? Or could they be images of the future? The brown-haired woman in the bed beside him, he'd had one questionable fantasy of rolling over and finding it was her…but could it be her? A vision? Not a fantasy. Truth? His future? Theirs?
It didn't matter. It didn't matter because it wasn't going to happen. Belle had become a distraction he couldn't afford to have in his life. He had to remain focused on Baelfire and yet, one little talk with Jefferson had changed everything. Funny, he would have thought that a fear like this would have been enough motivation to stay away. Yet, he found that all he wanted to do was talk with her, be in the same room as her and despite knowing that he shouldn't give into those urges he found he couldn't help himself. He found himself doing a lot of things lately he'd never done before either; like asking whether or not she truly was happy here with him, as Jefferson suggested. And he wondered whether or not he had anything to do with that happiness or if it was merely liberation from a society she hadn't wanted to live in. Had she truly cared for that brute of a man, Gaston? Did she miss him? Long for him? Did she go to bed each night with images of him in her head as he did with her? His stomach turned as he thought of those moments, and a new thought came to him. Did she ever think of him as she put her hand between her legs…just as he did with her?
A distraction. Curiosity was a good thing, but worry was the opposite, and he was getting so close to the end of all this he couldn't afford to make a mistake now. With the experiment a failure, with no discernable way to change himself, he came to one last option. His only choice was to get rid of her. It was a ridiculously simple answer considering how long he'd agonized over it. But it was his desire not to do it, to find any other option that told him it was right.
He had questions. How should he do it? Should he simply free her or find her more work? Where would she go? Back to her father? He thought not, but he couldn't be sure. Should he get her a house somewhere with a library and let her do her work there? Make some kind of deal with Regina to make sure she was protected when the Curse hit? Should he just kick her out, give her a few coins to start a new life, and let her be angry with him? Perhaps that was best. The less he knew about where she went after the castle was best.
But the real question was when. When would he do this? The answer was simple and yet too difficult to fathom. He should do it as soon as possible. But three days after his return from the England Realm, nearly a week after Jefferson had stopped by with Grace, nothing had been done. He was putting it off, he knew, but that was the worst thing he could do. The second worst thing he could do was continue their relationship as if he weren't trying to figure out how to get rid of her. He was doing both.
She still slept in her new room every night, he still moved her chair for her and she ate her breakfasts and dinners on the far side of the table. He still smiled every time the clock signaled that it was tea time. He always paused and considered not going down to see if he could make things easier and yet here he was…in the Great Room again, happy to see her for tea.
She'd been picking up some stray straw from his wheel when he stepped in, and she seemed unaware of his presence until he helped himself to tea. When she turned and saw him, she smiled. Oh, her smile made him feel like nothing ever had.
There was nothing to talk about today. No book that she'd been working on since he hadn't brought her one from England, no people they needed to argue about, no upcoming plans that they needed to discuss. He'd figured that like most days she'd sit in her chair and he'd sit in his, they'd drink their tea, perhaps have a small conversation about the weather, and then go their separate ways. She startled him when she followed him around the table and jumped up onto it. He let out a small "oh" with a gasp as she crossed her ankles, one over the other, and allowed them to swing in front of her.
"Why did you want me here?" she asked after a moment.
He tried to hide the way his heart had stopped at that question. It was an odd one, nothing like she'd asked before, nothing like anything they'd ever talked about before. And she'd asked it with such seriousness. Did she know? Did she have any clue what was going on in his mind right then about getting rid of her? On the one hand, he didn't know how she could know, but on the other hand, he wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if she did. She was gifted like that.
"Place was filthy," he joked before taking a sip of tea. He watched her carefully, trying to see if she'd let on to anything, but all she did was smirk with amusement. Her body language told him nothing.
"I think you were lonely," she stated boldly, nearly making him choke on his tea. "I mean, any man would be lonely."
Lonely…first his heart had nearly stopped now it took off again at a speed that would make a prized thoroughbred jealous. She knew something. But what? Was it to do with sending her away or was it something else?
"I'm not a man," he corrected, leaning up against the table beside her despite the fact that every voice in his head, every cell in his brain was telling him to get away from her. If she sensed what he thought she did, then being closer to her wouldn't help things. It might make them worse.
Still, he longed to know; not to guess but to actually know! What was it that she knew? Why had she asked these questions? Why was she bringing up loneliness?! The image of her in white flashed in his head again. Was it too late?
"So, I've had, um, a couple of months to look around, you know. And, uh…upstairs…there's uh…clothing. Small…as if for a child?"
Women. She was everywhere now, wasn't she. From why she was there to loneliness, and now onto a subject he'd rather not divulge to her, but…maybe that was it! Maybe this was what she knew! He hadn't spoken Baelfire's name, not in her presence, but they'd had conversations that revolved around him. Two that he could think of, one on Bae's birthday and the other when they'd stood in front of that mirror and she asked about his family. But if she knew, then why was she asking? He hadn't said much to her about his son, hadn't given her details, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. He didn't like to talk about his son around others for fear they'd use the information against him, but Belle…he didn't actually think she had a cruel bone in her body. And even if she did, who was she going to tell? Her friend the Blue Fairy? She already knew. The only person she'd ever come face to face with was him.
And it would be nice to have someone he could trust, to be able to speak his boy's name out loud again! What would she do if she knew? What would she think of him? How would she react? Would she care? Would she help him?
"Was it yours?" she prodded when he said nothing. "Or was there a son?"
A son. She knew. She'd gotten so far into his life that she already knew. There was no point in lying about it.
"There was," he admitted as his voice caught. He could hardly believe he'd said the words. "There was a son. I lost him…as I did his mother."
For half a second, the world seemed frozen as he waited for something bad to happen. For the image of her face to melt away before him and reveal some wicked villain who was dead set on keeping him from Baelfire and wanted to steal the Curse. Or worse, for her to touch him; to put a hand on his shoulder or throw her arms around his neck and gather him in closer as he mourned. There was no doubt in his mind that if she did that, he'd be lost to her. He'd give in to every urge, every to desire to touch and cry and kiss.
But fortunately, nothing happened. Nothing more than a sigh and a few words. "Um…I'm sorry." Two words. But they weren't false condolences that were so often passed around when someone lost a child or someone they knew. Her words were genuine. For Milah the grief was misplaced, but for Baelfire…he was sorry too. Still. Always. Forever.
"So…you were a man once," she muttered, changing the subject. "An ordinary man!"
Why did she need to know that? He couldn't be sure if that thought was his own or one of the voices, but there it was. This conversation was strange because it was about him. Not why he wanted her here or who his son was and why he was gone, she wanted to know about him! No one ever wanted to know about him. Why did she? Did she know something or not? Did she know what he knew?! Why did she want to know him in this way? Did she want to know him in any other ways as he so often imagined? As he hoped?
Suddenly she let out a huff next to him. "If I'm never going to know another person in my whole life…can't I at least know you?"
His throat was dry. He had tea, but he felt like his stomach was in knots. He wanted what she spoke of desperately. So desperately he was sick over it, but there were so many reasons why his answer to her should be "no", not the least of which was that he was going to send her away soon. Not soon enough, apparently. They got along now, but when he cast her out, how would she retaliate? His secrets were safe with no one but the voices in his head.
"Perhaps…" he muttered jokingly as he rose to face her and set his cup aside. "Perhaps you just want to learn the monster's weaknesses. Eh?! Eh?! Nanana!"
He smiled at her even as he teased, but she didn't respond. She didn't look insulted or taken back. She even ignored the finger he'd wagged in front of her face and kept her eyes glued to his own as she continued to beam.
"You're not a monster," she declared. "You think you're uglier than you are, that's why you cover all the mirrors up, isn't it?"
Her voice was gentle, but it was also undeniable. She'd gotten the last part wrong, but the first part…it was as if she was telling him the sky was blue or she was beautiful. She wasn't suggesting it as though it was outlandish, instead she simply stated a fact. To her at least. The idea that he wasn't a monster was an idea she shared with no one else in the world, not even himself. But it had been such a long time since anyone had seen him that way; looked at him as she was looking at him now! Not since Baelfire or even…
Margery. The night he'd gone back for her.
"I still hope and pray that one day you'll find a woman who will truly see you as Milah never did! A woman who will see beyond this."
A friend's ironic hope? A coincidence? Or strangely prophetic? Could it be her? Could she be the answer to Margery's prayers?
Or was she a problem he needed to excise sooner rather than later? Before he could respond to her, there was a knock at the door that forced them both to turn their heads. It was a good reminder.
She was such a distraction he hadn't even noticed someone had come onto his property.
I know this is a really simple scene, but I wanted to take my time with it and show the conflict that he has in his head. I wanted to show that nothing about their relationship is simple at the moment. He's overthinking. The easiest questions that she asks he thinks half to death before he answers it. I want it to seem like there is a wall there. He does want to get to know her and be with her, but Cora and Milah, the Dark Ones and the Seer, his parents, and even Margery in a way are in his head. He's been burned before, he doesn't want to be burned again even though everything inside of him is saying that it's different.
Thank you Alarda, Jennifer Baratta, and Grace5231973 for the reviews you've left me. As someone pointed out to me, yes, we are now in the homestretch. Less than fifty chapters to go in this fiction, can you believe it? Man, it's been a long fiction! But we're not done yet! More Rumbelle is coming at you next! Peace and Happy Reading!