VII

I Want Results, My Dear

Angry sobs wrenched from Belle's throat as she ran down the stairs and along the dim corridors which would lead her to the sanctuary of her rooms. She slammed the door closed behind her, not bothering with the little gold key protruding from the lock. If her master wanted in, a locked door wouldn't stop him. Her knees buckled beneath her and she slid down the smooth wood to land on her arse, folding in on herself as she gave in to her anguish.

Rumpelstiltskin had been trying so hard, his kindnesses having increased over the last few weeks. He smiled more readily – when he wasn't wearing a worried frown, that is – and he no longer shied away from her if she touched his hand or his arm. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and confess everything.

She was losing herself, the queen's thrall more and more damaging to her soul. If she didn't find a way to get her heart back …

Belle hiccupped and angrily swiped at the tears staining her ashen cheeks. It was no longer about her heart. She feared she'd never see it again. Now she worried more about what it would do to her master when Regina finally decided she'd had enough and crushed Belle's heart to dust. She knew deep down, somewhere in that heart of his … he cared for her. He certainly enjoyed her company. How would he react when she was taken from him for good this time? There would be no bringing her home.

She pushed her troubles to the back of her mind, needing to focus on what needed to be done. Tugging at the stays at the back of her peach gown, she freed herself from the fine muslin and whipped the garment over her head, hurrying into the bathing chamber which adjoined her room.

With a softly spoken command, the tub filled with steaming water, to which she quickly added rose scented bath salts. She sighed as she slipped beneath the surface. It was hard to believe she'd been searching for so long that she'd neglected basic hygiene. Lately she'd neglected everything, she thought sadly. When she wasn't being compelled to look for the dagger, she was busily trying to find a way to break the queen's thrall over her heart. Both searches had been futile, it seemed.

Now she was nearly out of time and only one ace was left up her sleeve. She couldn't tell – speak the words, at least – her master what the queen had done, but there was no reason why he couldn't read her journal. And she'd made sure to document every minute detail of the past several weeks. Regina was sure to kill her instantly for her treachery, but she would make sure to have one final moment of happiness before her world came crumbling down about her ears.

She scrubbed herself until her skin was raw and made sure to wash her hair twice until it was so clean it squeaked before rising from the tub and dressing in a soft rose-colored nightgown and matching dressing robe. It was only then she sat down at her vanity and whipped the drape off the mirror to brush out her hair. She looked awful, dark bruises beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and lines of stress at her mouth and creasing her brow. There was barely a hint of the girl she'd been just one short month ago. The worst part of all was the ache which seemed to build daily in her hollow chest. The more she came to love her master, the worse it grew, the emotion needing her heart to feed it.

"My, my, don't you look like a little slice of hell. What have you done to yourself, my dear," the drawling sickly-sweet voice of the queen asked from the other side of the looking glass.

Belle dropped her brush, a startled gasp falling from her lips. It wasn't the first time she'd been forced to communicate with the woman, but each time, the sudden appearance in her mirror unnerved her. She knew Rumpelstiltskin would be livid if he knew Regina had access to any part of his castle. "What do you want?" she hissed.

Regina's features hardened, her eyes narrowing. "You know perfectly well what I want," she screeched, slamming her hand down on her own vanity. "I want the Dark One's dagger and I'm tired of waiting!" She lifted Belle's bright red heart, so the girl could see it pulsing away in her hand. She trailed one ruby nail over the organ and Belle shivered, feeling the sensation despite the distance between them.

"It's not here in the castle. It has to be in his vault … the one place where he would never dare take me. I only know of its existence because I came across an ancient text. Rumpel would never –"

Regina laughed as she squeezed Belle's heart and watched the girl clutch uselessly at her chest, gasping for breath. "I didn't ask for excuses, girl. I want results. Do whatever it takes to get that dagger and bring it to me." She arched one raven brow, a sinister smile curling her ruby lips. "Seduce him if you have to, dear. You said yourself that you cared for him. It shouldn't be too difficult to get what you want."

"And if I can't?"

The queen's smile slipped into a venomous mask, her eyes nearly black and filled with hate. "Well … we all know what will happen if you fail."

Belle drew in a quavering breath as the mirror returned to its reflective surface, the queen having had enough enjoyment from tormenting her. She refused to cry again as she rose from the vanity and replaced the drape, her shoulders squared with steely determination. It was time. She threw herself into the chair at the little writing desk in the corner and retrieved her journal from the drawer, the lamplight gleaming on the powder blue leather cover. She flipped it open, dipped her quill into the inkpot and began to write, hoping her words would somehow bring comfort to the man she loved so dearly.