Wow! Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to let me know what you thought about that last chapter! I do believe I will never be able to top that one's awesomeness and fluffiness ;)

Now, for this new one.. Happy Reading!

Summary: In which Gaston is in a terrible hurry to get to Belle.
Number of years married: 5
Sons: 2
Daughters: 0


~:~ No one panics like Gaston ~:~

His hat tumbled from his head at the sudden breeze. He kept riding, not bothering in turning back. But his conscience got the better of him. He pulled the reins hard and Magnifique neighed loudly in protest.

Halfway to the hat lying on the dirt road, Gaston jumped off and snatched it up. He didn't care what creases his tight grip left behind on the material - he had more important matters at hand.

He caught Magnifique's reins again and pulled himself up. He kicked the heel of his boots into the horse and urged him sharply.

He was about a mile from town. He hoped he would make it in time.

"Belle," Maurice sighed. "You really must stay off your feet-"

She pressed a kiss to Gilbert before she handed him over to her father. "It's just a trip to the market, Papa. Honestly, what could go wrong?" She beamed as Nathaniel held up the wooden toy Gaston carved for his fourth birthday. She bent as best she could and hugged him tightly, smooshing his face with a kiss.

Maurice let out an indignant and exasperated puff of air. "I'll tell you what could go wrong. You could get tired. You could have a fall. The villagers, particularly the men of this town, could take advantage of you-"

She stood straight. "Papa, you're worrying too much."

"And Gaston, where is he? He should be here not out in the woods hunting! It seems to me that he hunts more and more because he wants to get away from his family!"

Belle looked as if that was not the first time someone had brought the subject up. "There's a very wealthy man staying at the tavern. He's offered Gaston seventy livres for the largest buck he can find. That sort of money will keep us going for months. He wouldn't need to hunt for a long while," she explained. "During which time he shall be a father to our three children."

Maurice made a grumble. "Yes, alright. But you should rest, Belle-"

"I feel perfectly fine," she lied. Her back hadn't stopped aching and she could hardly remember a time when her ankles weren't hurting.. perhaps she could get Gaston to rub them when he returned.

He still looked unconvinced.

"Bye, Papa," she said, knowing there wasn't much else to back up her act.

Gilbert, just about two, reached for her as she turned for the door. He hardly ever cried but at the moment, his bottom lip began to wobble.

"Oh, Gilby," she pouted for him. "My baby, you'll see me again soon."

"Soon?" Maurice questioned.

She waved off her words, "You know what I mean." She kissed his head. "I love you, my little one. You and Nathie be good for Granpapa."

The dirt road curved into the village and turned to cobblestone. He slowed down as best he could and leaped off Magnifique's back at the fountain. He practically pushed the horse into the stables. He haphazardly tied the horse to a post before enduring the usual crowd of villagers.

Except, he hadn't time for niceties and manners. Villagers who got in his way were plowed over or knocked aside. He didn't look back. His mind was in a haze and he couldn't hear the curses amd shouts that many threw his way.

He had to get home.

Agathe's warm smile was the first thing Belle saw as she made her way down he road. "Any day now, love?" she beamed. It seemed the impending arrival of a new young soul in their village was something she was excited for.

Belle smiled. "Yes."

Then Agathe continued with a teasing shake of her head. "Shame your husband's out hunting. Again. It seems that's all he does!"

The brunette playfully rolled her eyes. "That's Gaston for you."

The older woman tsked, "He should be at home same as you, waiting for the birth of his child."

Belle managed out a laugh. She knew Agathe wasn't particularly fond of Gaston and Gaston held those feelings mutual. She shifted her basket, trying to keep herself busy as oppose to paying attention to the ache in her back. "Well, he is paid good money and it keeps food on the table," she sufficed. "Besides, he knows the baby is due soon. I suspect he shouldn't be gone for long."

"Still," the woman muttered. "I say if he really loved you, he wouldn't dare in leaving your side!"

A passerby snarled, "What'dya know of love, wench?" With a strong arm, he shoved Agathe. He gleamed in satisfaction when her back hit the brick wall. Then he continued on without looking back.

Belle went to her after the man passed - given her current condition, she wasn't about to put herself between Agathe and an angry villager. She helped the woman regain her balance. "Oh, Agathe, I wish these people would treat you better," she sighed. She felt terrible about what she just witnessed. "You deserve so much better."

Agathe shook her head, a smile on her aged face. "Don't worry about me, love." She took Belle's hand and patted it. "You've got many other things to worry about than me."

Belle pursed her lips unconvincingly.

"Don't look so sad. I'm quite alright. In fact, I know far more about love than any other being in this town. Maybe, save for you."

He had no time to exhale gratefully as he finally spotted their familiar front door. He jumped the fence, nearly clipping the top with the toe of his boot. "Belle!" he shouted urgently.

Then he tripped mounting the steps. His knee struck against the top step and his palms scraped on the rough stone. He stumbled to his feet again and swung the door open.

His eyes found her. "Belle!"

Belle smiled. Agathe succeeded in assuring her - that or she knew she should get to the market soon so she could spend the rest of the day at home in her favorite armchair. "If I have extra money, I'll-"

The older woman shook her head. "Don't worry about it, love."

"Then I'll see you later, Agathe," she replied. "Be careful."

"You as well."

Belle gave a tired smile in return. She continued to the market, particularly the fruit stands. She stopped and studied the rows of fruits she wasn't able to grow in her garden.

"Can I help you, Madame?" the grocer asked.

She glanced up, giving him a quick smile. "No, I'm just looking." And she did look at the lemons and apples and pears. She picked up an apple when a faint twinge pulled at her side, but she ignored it.

She spent less than an hour standing. It escaped her notice for a while that the sun had beaten down on her, making her increasingly warm. She let out a sickly sigh and pressed her hand to her temple-

"Madame," a woman asked. She put her hand on Belle's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine," Belle replied. "Just tired." She licked her lips and took a breath. "I better get home," she said as she knew the woman was still watching her. She excused herself, making her way through the gossiping villagers to the safe walls of their home.

She closed the door behind her and groaned.

He stepped forward without waiting for a reply. He took her hands in his for a moment. He watched her face, every line of confusion and every question that filled her brown eyes. He saw no sign of pain and discomfort, but that didn't mean she was okay. He let go and carefully ran his hands over her body, checking for anything amiss.

A question sat on the tip of her tongue but she kept it in.

His disheveled appearance had startled her. He had come barreling through the door, still covered in vague smears of blood up to his elbows from whatever dead animal he had skinned. His hair was loose from his tie, so much so that a fair amount of strands were already gathered at the side of his face. His brown jacket was not on his shoulders as it was when he left days ago, nor did he have on his pistol and crossbow.

She knew he never traveled without his weapons. She just hoped whatever happened out there hadn't been too life-threatening.

Grey eyes met hers, and they seemed far less manic than a few moments ago. His hands stopped at their unborn child who was kicking relentlessly much to Belle's discomfort. He looked at her face. He saw the faint grimace tug at the corner of her mouth.

"You're not- you're not having the baby, are you?" he asked carefully.

She frowned. "No..." Out of all the reasons to hurry home unannounced, how could he have possibly focused on that? Sure, their child could arrive any day but he was sure he'd be home in time for the birth. And she trusted him. Why now...?

Then it clicked.

Her stomach twisted with nerves as she started to feel bad for him. "Gaston, what did you hear?" She pressed her palms to his chest as he started to turn away.

He let out a short breath. "I was still-" He lifted his arms to describe that activity. "- with Lefou when a villager on his way out told me you were having the baby." He brought her knuckles to his lips. "I rushed home then as quick as I could. I was not about to let you birth my son alone."

She narrowed her eyes briefly. He always managed that somehow. Right when she was falling for his charm and thoughtfulness, he diverted from the path- or steered back onto the path that only he could create.

"I took Nathie and Gilby to Papa's then I went to the market. I started to feel a bit sick. I returned home shortly after. I suppose word must've spread and turned into something else entirely by the time it reached you." She bit her lip.

His mouth was in a firm line. "You shouldn't have been out to begin with," he grunted. His grey eyes turned dark and shadowed. He was concealing his worry.

He strode to the door and unraveled his hat. He retied his hair and put his hat back on. He took one step out the door.

"Where are you going?"

He swiveled on his heel and before Belle knew it, she was steered to the armchair. "To see if Sage is in," he answered. He pulled the ottoman closer and propped her feet up.

His fingers grazing her ankles had a satisfied groan leave her throat without her permission. He looked at her quickly.

She waved him off. "I'm fine." Her voice was borderline content. Then she yawned - this also did not have her permission to leave. "Sending for Sage is not necessary." Sage was the town's midwife who Belle really didn't want to bother, especially with something as unimportant as a little heat sickness... All she could go for was a heavenly foot-rub and a nice nap.

"I'll rub your feet when I return with Sage," his voice cut into her thoughts.

Her face warmed. She didn't realize she had spoken out loud. She tried to change the subject. "What about Lefou? And that man at the tavern?"

He let out a short grunt as he thought. He "It'll take no longer than fifteen minutes. I was nearly done." He bent and kissed her tenderly. "I'll be right back." He stood straight and headed for the open door.

"Oh, and Gaston?"

He turned his head.

"It could be a girl," she reminded him. She didn't want him to forget what she had talked about the night she accepted his proposal.

"Belle," he said with much confidence, "Gaston genes only make sons."


livre, French currency from 781 to 1794