For MustardLady

Part 2 of 2

*Warning: (gosh it seems everything I write recently has warnings) hurt/comfort, angst, and anxiety.

Summary: Everyone left for the special treat two towns over. Thomas stayed behind due to his cold.. at least that is what Belle and Gaston thought it was. Takes place the night of Part 1.
Number of years married: 9
Sons: 3
Daughters: 1


~:~ Sweet innocence ~:~

A pitiful wail woke Belle and Gaston in the dead of night.

She lit the oil lamp beside their bed and went to Thomas' room. Gaston tossed on a shirt and trousers and set about checking the house, seeing if anything was amiss. With all seemingly untouched, he returned to Belle.

She had the back of her hand pressed to her son's forehead. In the flickering light, he could see his little boy's face was very flushed. His cough was hoarse.

Belle looked to her husband. "This isn't what we thought."

He could hear the hitch in her voice.

As she turned back to Thomas and tried to soothe his wail to a hush, Gaston didn't waste any time. He headed into the living room and shrugged on his jacket and hastily put on his boots. He tied his hair back and put his hat on.

"It's a two hour ride," he heard her worry quietly. He saw her figure in the faint firelight. "But only if you're fast. Wh-what if you don't-"

"Don't," he growled sharply. "I'll make it. He'll be fine."

She tried to have faith as he kissed her cheek. "Be safe," she gave in reply.

He nodded firmly. "Go to him. I'll be back."

Thomas was struggling to breathe by the time the front door slammed shut. Her hope rose a bit and she caressed her son's damp forehead. "It's alright, my love. It's going to be alright. Papa's made it home. You'll be better soon."

The fearful look in the trembling child's eyes faded a bit and Belle could see happiness for a brief moment.

Her heart clenched to see her little boy in so much pain. "It's going to be alright, my baby. Shh."

She tried to will away her anxiety that she was sure was written clearly on her face as the physician bustled in. She met her husband's eyes as he followed.

"What are the symptoms?" the old doctor asked.

Her throat felt dry as she spoke. "We thought it was a regular cold. Then just a few hours ago he developed this fever and now he's been having a hard time breathing." She watched worriedly as the physician bent over her son with his medical equipment.

He threw a glance her way. "I'm sorry, Madam, but I must work without your hovering. Nothing personal. Just parents tend to get in the way."

Gaston took a breath and gently led his wife from their son's room. "Come. He'll be fine."

She couldn't tear her eyes from Thomas as he pulled her. "No," she finally spoke just as she passed the threshold. "No. I-I will stay here."

He studied her form, noting the way her body trembled a bit. He didn't argue. But he remained near as she nervously bit at her nails. He wanted to offer his support but knew she'd push him away.

Both stood vigilant in the hour that passed. Belle had eventually accepted his touch and had leaned into him as they watched the doctor tend to Thomas. The doctor had moved away to his bag when it happened.

And Gaston swore he had never been so scared. The scene and her scream would haunt him for months to come.

Their three-year-old's chest stopped rising.

Her scream was hoarse and raw and his hand at her waist tightened in an instant. He was sure she would have bruises from his grip, but she did not notice. She did not care. She solely cared about rushing to their son and doing everything she could in bringing him back. In making him breathe again.

She fought at him to get away but he wouldn't budge. He wrapped his arms around her - preventing her from lunging out of his grip and into the room. She clawed at his arms but he would not stand down. He had never before held her so tightly.

But her strength mirrored his. He knew he could not hurt her.

Her cries ripped at his core. He could feel her screams in his soul, her pain in his heart, her fear in his own. He pressed his nose into her hair more out of comfort for himself than her.

He knew he could not comfort her. He could not soothe her.

Not with the physician hovering over their lifeless child, trying to bring him back into this world.

His throat tightened then-

Her legs gave out and she crumpled. He lowered her to the floor and enveloped her in his embrace as tightly as he could. Tears stung the backs of his eyes as he caught a glimpse of her tear-streaked cheeks.

Then she stopped struggling to get away and clung to him.

Her body was shaking - uncontrollably. "I can't- my baby- I can't lose him," she sobbed into his chest. "Gaston-"

"I know," he said in the most put-together voice he could muster. "We'll have to have faith, my love." He kissed her head and she cried into him as they waited.

This was the second liftetime of agony Gaston had endured.

The first-

He had been eleven. And he had woke one morning to find the man who was not his father trying to revive his mother after his awful father nearly killed her.

He feared he had cursed his family with the same tragic life his mother had and her love had. He would never forgive himself if-

A hoarse sound. Then a rusty sputter.

Belle watched, still trembling in his arms. Thomas' lungs struggled hard but finally they let him breathe again.

She let out a relieved cry and Gaston welcomed the sound. He kissed her head over and over until he felt alright. He held her for several minutes more, waiting for Thomas to be okay.

The physician finally stepped back and Belle wasted no time in freeing herself from her husband's grip. She knelt beside Thomas' bed, held his hand, and ran her thumb softly over his forehead. Gaston stepped in slowly and noted his son's face was no longer flushed.

"Will he be alright?" he asked.

The doctor gave a nod that they speak elsewhere. He gathered up his items and left the room. Gaston followed.

"He is very lucky," he admitted quietly at the end of the hall. "Most children to not survive through the night."

Gaston fought to keep his face neutral. To think they could have been the unlucky parents and buried their- He cleared his throat. "Will he continue to live?"

He nodded. "His fever has broken. His lungs have significantly cleared. I reckon you and your wife have survived this disease once in your life." He waved off Gaston's concerned look at that. "Signs of it spreading to either of you would have shown up before I arrived."

"We have other children," he suddenly said. "They're not here now but-"

"Air out the room, thoroughly wash the sheets, should be fine," he replied.

"Should?" Gaston couldn't help but repeat.

"Burning is your last resort. It has been studied that the disease cannot live on its own." He gave Gaston a firm nod. "It's highly unlikely your children will get sick."

A weight was lifted. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He walked the doctor out and stood on the steps of the house. Then he remembered.

"No. Keep it," the doctor shook his head at the payment Gaston offered. "A child surviving this illness is payment enough."

Gaston gave a short nod, not trusting his words.

"Good day, sir," he bid.

He watched the physician ride away back to Villeneuve. He looked to the east - the sun was rising.

He closed the door behind him and kicked off his boots. Exhaustion set on his shoulders and he wiped his face. He returned to the room.

"Gaston," she breathed tiredly. Her eyes were red and puffy from her crying.

Kneeling beside the bed, his hand ghosted over Thomas' peaceful sleeping face, his fingers stopping just over his hair.

Then his hand shook and he suddenly lost his composure.

He barely felt Belle's hands knead his shoulders as he cried.


A/N: Inspired by the putrid throat epidemic in Poldark (2015). So sorry if the angst was a bit much Dx Even I felt it was a bit much but I am honestly too in love with it to change it. So I'm terribly sorry if I truly scared you all :(

And yes, small town Villeneuve has a really good doctor.