Hello again, my lovelies! :) Hope you all have been very well since last we met!
...which was... oh dear! A year and two weeks ago! :O I am soooooo sorry to all of you! But I do have a story for you in why it's taken me so long to see you again...
I'd like to thank a certain reviewer for stumping me in my writing. I know, I let a little review hit me hard. I thought that phase of me was over - that was so 2013!me...
So I'd just like to write this note to anyone who reads these glimpses and has similar questions:
My writing skills are not conventional - that's due to a film I watched about three years ago. It was very different and I incorporated the vibe it gave me into my writing. And of course, writing over and over again, my conventions became habit. In short, I love my unusual punctuation and passive sentences and if I change them... I change my writing, and I like my writing.
Now, I know my writing has been focused on Gaston and when it's not, it's focused on Belle being a mom and a housewife. I know. I also had several suggestions/requests in that little review this lovely being sent me. I even said I was thinking about focusing more on an empowered Belle...
You see, that chapter was nowhere near being done. I had a lot more chapters that were closer to being done but they had the same theme of Belle being a housewife and stuff. I didn't want to publish them until I finished the empowered one. Of course, when you're met with requests/criticisms/suggestions, your own ideas and your own thoughts kind of go out the window...
The way I wanted to write that empowered chapter was no longer in my head, because I was afraid I would displease my readers. And then you know, I might have accidentally deleted the first part of the chapter and I know if I rewrote it, it won't be near as good as it was.
Oh, it was/is all a mess!
So, summer came and I put my foot down and said I would update this story with that damn empowered chapter! But then I got sick and my writing was pushed back yet again :/ and then I got an internship-
Well, yeah, this is NOT the empowered chapter... this is another one. That empowered thingy is coming up! Don't worry!
Oh, and CorditeQuill, hope you looooove my passive sentences! ;)
Right! Onward!
Summary: Belle finds those letters that Gaston never sent to her during the war, but she has a choice to make: should she read them?
Number of years married: 2 years
Sons: 1
With this chapter, I wanted to do something a bit cooler... I don't know, I thought it was cooler :) The written letter portion is in italics. The action sequences are the contents of the letter, though Belle only reads what Gaston wrote about the event. You guys get to actually picture it in action!
Warning: vivid descriptions of war/battle, possible blood/gore, anxiety, stress
Also, not that it's very important, but the captain in the first letter is the same one in Chapter 32
Set after Chapter 14
Enjoy! Finally! :D
~:~ Love at war ~:~
Belle frowned curiously at the small chest hidden deeply in a drawer. She pulled it out and opened it. Her curiosity turned to confusion then slow realization as she took in the letters – there must have been close to fifty.
All had her name scrawled on the fronts- it was Gaston's handwriting. She took a breath and picked the first one. She turned it over and opened it-
Gaston cleared his throat and she dropped the paper.
"I- uh, I..." She picked up the letter and put it back in the chest, closing the box quickly. Very nearly shoving it away as if she had not been caught snooping.
He shifted a bit. Sure he had expected her to find those letters one day, but in some ways, he was conflicted in letting her read them. "You may... you may read them if you wish."
She watched him.
"Just know... just know I expected never to make it back from the war. Let alone marry you."
She reached back into the drawer and handed him the box. "I-I won't read them. They're private."
He faintly smiled and accepted the box. "They're yours. You deserve to know of my love for you- how deep it runs." Then he continued off her questioned look, "You had long believed I admired you for your looks. That was so, then one day, I didn't."
Her curiosity heightened at that and she might have gotten that girlish tint of mischief in her eyes. She wondered what sort of a day it was that made him change his mind. On their own accord, her fingers brushed over the wooden box. She met his gaze and felt him press the box into her hands.
He offered a small smile and closed the door behind him.
She took a breath and sat on the bed, opening the box again and taking the top letter.
His handwriting was the same as ever – neat though squished in the beginning and messy though far apart toward the end.
She smiled to herself and began to read.
Belle,
I will admit I feel strangely weird about writing you these letters. I know they will never reach you for we are not- But let's say you do read them…
"Soldier!"
He snapped his head up and shoved the paper in his pocket. "Sir!"
The captain had a right angry scowl on his face and he glared fiercely at Gaston. "We're on the front lines, young man! None of us can afford to be distracted!"
"Yes, sir! Won't happen again, sir."
"What town are you from?"
"Villeneuve."
"Never heard of it."
There was a small movement to the side of another soldier across from Gaston, and a soldier on the pudgy side piped up. "It's a small town off the-"
"Silence!" Captain Henshaw snapped. Then he leveled an authoritative glare at the young man who dared to give him unnecessary information. "A small town, you say? Well, you think you're doing your town a great deed by fighting in battle, don't you? You probably have family depending on you."
The soldier gulped nervously.
"It is highly unlikely you'll see your family again. Most young men don't survive." The captain's smile was not kind. "That is why I do not care where your little town is. Your body will burned in a mass grave by the time this is over, son."
Gaston watched the captain return to the front of the group then glanced at the smaller young man and patted his shoulder in support. He recognized him from town – they had never held a serious conversation but he knew the basics of the other. "Lefou, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he said a bit dejectedly.
Another fellow cleared his throat and the two turned to an older soldier. The man held out his hand. "Lieutenant Castile, lads."
"Lefou."
"Gaston."
He gave a courteous nod – a stark difference from the hostile Captain Henshaw. "It's tough here, but that doesn't mean you won't ever see home again. Have each other's backs, watch your surroundings. You'll be fine."
Lefou twitched. "F-f-fine?" He unconsciously started to fist his hands in Gaston's sleeve. "You hear that? F-f-fine- just f-f-fine… oh boy…"
"Lef-ou," Gaston grunted as he pried his fingers from his uniform. "I have every intention of returning home. You should have the same mindset." He shook Castile's hand again. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm sure we-" He lifted Lefou upright by the back of his collar. "-will keep our hopes up."
"Yes," Lefou wilted.
"See you later, gentlemen," the lieutenant bid as he joined the group ahead.
"Do you really have high hopes this'll turn out well?" Lefou's small voice asked.
"I do," Gaston masked with confidence. I have to.
...
They had seen battle faster than they were prepared for. It was more grisly and raw and awful as any war-torn tale they'd heard as kids. Their unit lost six men that day, including Lieutenant Castile...
Lefou sat in the corner of camp, nursing a bowl of beans and slowly rocking back and forth.
"Anybody could be gone… like that," Lefou whispered with a weak snap of his fingers.
Gaston sat beside him and switched out the bowl of cool beans for his warm one. "You have to eat, Lefou."
"Not hungry."
"I may not have known you well in Villeneuve but I know that that's not true."
He glared at Gaston. "Fine," he grumbled, shoving a spoonful in his mouth.
"This seat taken?" a new voice interrupted.
They looked up at another lieutenant and shook their heads. "Go ahead," Gaston said.
He held out his hand. "Jérémie. I hear you're Gaston."
Said man gave a snort. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
He gave a shrug. "Henshaw has a hatred for troublemakers."
"Ah," Gaston mused. "And as Lieutenant, I'm sure you're ordered to keep an eye on me?"
"A bit. But I'll let you in on a secret, nobody really likes Captain Henshaw."
"I liked Castile," Lefou voiced to no one in particular.
Jérémie gave a bit of a nod. "Yes, he was taken too soon, I agree. But we cannot let our guard down, and that is what he did."
Lefou gulped nervously again.
"It'll be alright-"
"That's what these people keep saying yet I know it's not true," he puffed anxiously.
The lieutenant glanced at Gaston who shook his head. "Let him… fizzle out. He'll be better in a few days." Gaston ignored the embarrassed flush to the tips of his ears when he jumped at the sudden clap to his shoulder. He frowned at the very drunk Frenchman clutching a pint.
"There it is, gentlemen! You survived your first battle!" he cheered before stumbling away.
Jérémie sighed. "Basile. He… he likes his drink."
"I can see why," the pudgy soldier mumbled.
Gaston huffed. "Lefou."
"What?"
"Eat your beans."
I do not know what lies ahead but I am confident I will be back in Villeneuve in no time.
- Gaston
Belle almost dreaded in reading more letters at that. To think he had such high hopes and so much confidence at the beginning of the war.
The corner of her mouth twitched – he still had confidence to this day. Arrogant and annoying, though, but he still had it. She wondered if the war ever took his confidence away.
Pretending to write to her must have kept his spirits high… and his confidence high.
She saw herself choose another one toward the middle of the stack.
Belle,
This war is a fool's errand- as a Captain I should not be saying it, but it's true. Our men are fighters sure, but even fighters must rest. The hours have run out and I fear I will never see you again-
Gaston sharply turned his head at the gunfire nearby. He cursed under his breath and stuffed the letter and pencil into his pocket. He snatched his rifle and called to his crew around him. He was expecting an ambush – a fierce and unforgiving attack from the other side for that was their strategy as of late. But he was not expecting the gunfire to be a diversion.
"La Brucherie!" he snarled when the soldier took off in another direction.
Another followed.
He turned to see what had his unit crumbling, and he nearly had time to duck as a bullet whizzed toward him. He bolted.
And he didn't stop until he was well within the thick forest. He leaned against a tree and tried to catch his bearings. He glanced around quickly and didn't see anyone. His legs already shaking in the aftermath of the adrenaline. He slid down to the forest floor.
Five minutes was too long of a rest. A twig snapped just behind him and his heart jumped into his throat. He swiveled around, but his legs refused to work and he fell back once he faced the soldier.
He saw his life flash before his eyes – Belle and her smile, Villeneuve and those sunsets, and his mother and her love for him. Coming to war had been a mistake.
He held his breath when the other raised their rifle, and he refused to close his eyes. And it seemed like an eternity- The rifle pointed at his face, the triumphant smirk the enemy already wore, and the last bit of light he'd ever see in this world.
Click.
What should have been his last breath came out in a rush in the split second he had before the soldier realized his gun failed to fire. Gaston was to his feet before the young boy's brows could even knit together in confusion. Then in the next moment, Gaston turned the other's rifle on him, the bayonet silencing his attempts in fighting back.
Gaston stood over the young man's body for a moment before returning to camp, panting heavily.
He finished the letter when the sun had long set though he knew sleep would not come to him that night.
Belle, I pray you never have to experience near-death as I have. And I pray you are safe wherever you are… for I understand now what life truly is.
- Gaston
Her heart was beating rapidly and she took several shaky breaths. For him to experience this… she couldn't bear it. The beast's attack had shaken her but she couldn't imagine having to face that danger every day for all those months he had been gone.
She looked at the next letter… almost not wishing to read it but yet... still intrigued.
The front had dried spots of blood. She took a breath and opened it, grimacing when she saw more old and stale brown smears. His handwriting looked tense as if he had been in great pain when he wrote it.
Belle,
I had prayed this day would be uneventful, at least not more than usual. Lefou and I are stranded – the rest of the unit to the north and we are in the south…
"Gaston!" Lefou gasped. He ran down the wash to where his captain was trying in vain to hide behind a tree. "Gaston!"
"Shut it! They'll hear!" He pushed his friend against the bank when he heard the footsteps getting closer. "Shh," he hushed suddenly.
"Over here!"
"Go! Go!" he hissed, yanking Lefou off the side of the ditch and pushing him forward. "Go!"
Lefou ran as fast as his legs could carry him and Gaston behind him. They tore through the shrubs and between trees and jumped over logs. He glanced behind to make sure his friend was really following him, but a shriek left him instead as a bullet whizzed past him.
"Go toward the hills! They despise the rocky areas!"
Lefou nodded though his panic was rising. "Gaston! I should tell you! We're heading south! Basile and the others are north!"
"Just run!" he snapped.
The tree beside them splintered into several pieces. "Holy-!" Lefou didn't have time to finish his curse as his collar was grabbed and pulled to the forest floor. He obeyed and didn't move though he turned his head and glowered at Gaston, "I really think if they're firing at us, we should keep running!"
"Shh!"
He grumbled under his breath but stayed perfectly still like Gaston.
After what seemed like a several long moments, the captain let out a breath and stood up. "They've moved on."
"Thank heavens," Lefou half sighed in relief and half grumbled. He followed suit and dusted off his clothes. "Now. Can we start heading north?"
Gaston shook his head. "It's too risky. We'll have to head south for a bit and-" He looked to the path ahead of them. "-circle back, from the east."
Lefou refrained from groaning. "Wonderful."
"I can hear the excitement in your voice," he snorted. He rearranged his rifle on his shoulder and winced.
"Gaston!"
"Shh!"
But Lefou's eyes were wide as saucers. "But you've been shot!"
Gaston sharply looked to him then his shoulder where he saw the bloodstain growing on his clothes. The adrenaline that had been pumping through him during the chase dissipated and he slowly began to feel the throbbing, stabbing, twisting pain in his arm. He shifted his shoulder, "I'm fine."
The other was already digging through his own pack. "I don't have the supplies- but if we turn back now-"
"No! We can't risk it," he growled. "I'll be fine."
Lefou tried to argue. "We don't know how long we'll be separated. At best three days!"
"Then I'll wait."
Lefou gave him a glare. "There's no one here, Gaston, you don't have to be a hero."
"But I would very much like to live tomorrow," he countered.
"… Touché."
I apologize that this letter is not the… most presentable. I cannot write well but I wish for you to know that I am alive.
- Gaston
She pursed her lips and tried not to feel the pain he had gone through. But now she knew the origin of that deep scar.
This time she chose one at the bottom of the pile.
Belle,
War changes people. We have saved a life, but our superiors must never know.
"How much longer do you think this'll last?" Basile asked, his voice as tired as his hunched shoulders. He readjusted his rifle and leaned against a post.
Gaston shrugged, also tired. "I don't know-"
Twigs snapped ahead of them and both raised their weapons to the figure that stumbled into camp. It was a man dressed in a red uniform – an enemy soldier, and he looked terrified. He held up a white rag in surrender.
"Don't shoot him. We can use him as a pawn," Basile suddenly gleamed, his eyes almost seemed to glow bright with demented glee. "Get the Portuguese to negotiate-"
The enemy soldier took a step forward.
"Get down on the ground!" Basile suddenly shouted. "Get down!" He neared with his rifle poised. He growled when the other did not follow orders. "I said get down!" He moved to yank the soldier's collar when he felt Gaston's hard hand on his shoulder.
"He doesn't speak French. He cannot understand you."
Basile narrowed his eyes angrily. "You're defending him. After everything that's happened! All the men we've lost! You're defending him!"
"He's just like us. Fighting because someone else told him to," he growled.
His fellow soldier straightened and quickly slammed the butt of the rifle against Gaston's jaw. "I do not take orders from you."
"What's… going on?" Jérémie asked, coming into view after hearing a commotion.
"Gaston believes we should take pity on an enemy soldier," Basile snarled.
Jérémie frowned. "An enemy-" He looked at the foreigner in red on his knees with his hands raised, the white rag still in his grip. His face cleared and he looked at Gaston whose cheek was already bruising. "Take pity?"
He held his ground. "He came of here of his own free will-"
"He's a spy!" Basile growled.
"He's a deserter."
The Frenchman angrily shook his head. "I am not saving this man. In fact, I am going to alert Alois right now-"
"Don't."
"He'll be dead anyway if we let him go," he reasoned. He huffed at Gaston's silence. "And where do you suggest we hide him until the end of the war?"
He rubbed his jaw but avoided eye contact when he spoke. "There's an extra uniform in Alois' tent-"
He scoffed. "Jérémie is the only one with access. He'd never." He looked to said man who – to his dismay – had a look of deep thought and wonder on his face. "You're not seriously thinking about this, Jer?" He wanted to pull out his own hair in anger. "What is with you two? He's an enemy soldier! His men have killed hundreds of ours! Hundreds of fathers, sons, brothers! Some men as old as you," he said, pointing to Gaston. "Some young men whose mothers will have to bury!" He glared coldly at the two. "And what of those that left a wife behind- like Castile, his wife is expecting. You're going to grant the enemy mercy- let alone give him one of our uniforms? I will take no part in it."
"What of you, Gaston?" Jérémie asked, gliding over Basile's complaints.
He sighed. "If I get to save one man, any man, it'll help me live with myself for murdering hundreds of innocent boys."
Basile snorted. "Innocent. We both know that's not true."
His glare was sharp. "Yes, innocent. Boys and men who were told they had a duty to protect their country no matter the cost."
His fellow soldier shook his head.
"I'm sick of it!" Gaston snapped.
Basile's glare was filled with hate and contempt despite all that was said. "Do you think you can live with yourself for saving a man of the enemy?"
Jérémie cleared his throat. "My conscience can never be clear, not after everything I've done. But I agree with Gaston. And… it'll help me sleep better. Maybe I'll dream of life instead of death."
"He's a monster," he pressed on.
Gaston almost looked at his comrade with pity. "Look at you, Basile. You have forgotten that we're all human. And he's a human bound to fight for his country. Just like us."
"Stop comparing him to us! We are not alike! I fight to protect my country. He fights because he is a coward, too afraid to face whatever crimes he's made back home," he spit.
But Jérémie and Gaston did not listen. Both men gripped the enemy's upper arms and hauled him into Jérémie's tent.
The fire deflated from Basile when he realized he would not win this. He still wore a frown and he hated to admit he was starting to grow nervous. "We could be killed," he tried. "And Gaston, what about your girl? You might never go home."
The soldier gave a brief sad chuckle. He shook his head. "She's not my girl."
"…but you're always writing to her."
"I never send them." He poured the Portuguese a cup of water. Then he looked at Basile again. "She's not waiting for me. It won't matter to her if I don't return home."
Basile tried again - there had to be a soft spot that would make Gaston rethink this all. "What about your mother?"
He gave a small smile. "She's found someone. Left my father. I know she's safe."
"So you don't care if we don't make it out of here…" he realized.
"I do care."
"But-"
"If we're caught, I will take the fall. You and Jérémie will not be blamed."
"Gaston-"
But he brushed past Basile and out the tent. "I'm done."
If I am to live through this war, Alois and the others must never find out.
- Gaston
Belle's eyebrows had slowly raised as she read it. She let out a long breath and shook her head, folding the parchment and returning it to the stack. She knew the man she married was reckless at some points and in some situations... but she never knew him to be that reckless.
But in the midst of fighting, he had realized they all were human... He was a better than she gave him credit for.
He saved a man's life, and she wondered where that soldier was now and if he and the others kept in contact.
She reached for the very last one.
Belle,
This day began as normal, then we received the greatest of news.
Gaston looked up from his post when a young soldier ran through the camp, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"They surrendered! They surrendered! They surrendered!"
Jérémie stopped the young soldier by the collar. "Shh! What is this nonsense? Don't dare curse us!"
The young man twisted his way from the older's grip. "It's not a trick, sir. Captain Francis was there. He signed it! He signed the treaty. On behalf of France! We can go home!"
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Where is Captain Francis, then?"
"Here, Captain Jérémie."
The crew stood to attention – all with that question deep in their eyes. And the captain gave a nod. "It is true. They surrendered. The war is done."
"The war is won!" several cheered.
Gaston let out a long breath of relief and leaned against a tree. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before a clap on the shoulder startled him.
Jérémie stood there with a solemn smile on his face. "We did it."
The captain could hear the regret and pain in his voice. "Aye, we did. We're alive."
"And you can return to Villeneuve and get your girl!"
He let out a brief chuckle. "You have high hopes, my friend."
"You never know," he kept on. He had a teasing look in his eye. "I say give it time."
Gaston gave him a friendly shove. "And you? Are you to wed Katerina?"
To that, Jérémie quieted.
"Not a good feeling, is it?" Gaston said sarcastically. "Come on. Let's get to the feast before all the ale is finished."
"Aye."
I'm coming home, my Belle.
Love, Gaston.
And he came home... but she wouldn't give him the time of day for years. Then when she did, it was only for a compromise and nothing more.
She sat in silence for a long while - taking everything in. Picturing everything he had gone through - in those few letters - in her mind and realizing how thankful she was that he had made it out and that he was here. Ten minutes she sat in silence before she had to see him.
He sat on the floor near the fireplace with little Nathie on his knee. Their son had his fist in his mouth and a happy grin on his face as Gaston tickled him. She felt herself smile at his adorable laugh.
He glanced up. "Read them?"
She gave a brief nod. "Some, at least." She stepped to the two and sat down beside her husband.
He watched her smile at their son and he noticed her soft smile didn't reach her eyes. "Are you alright?"
Her eyes met his for a moment before she rested her head on his shoulder. "It's just- what you went through- I had no idea. I mean, I had heard the stories you'd tell the villagers, but I always thought you exaggerated the truth."
He chuckled. "I'm flattered, thank you."
She gave a small giggle and playfully nudged him. "You know what I mean."
"It got me to you," he said, this time more serious.
"That it did."
"In one way or another- even though it took years to get-"
"Gaston," she gently scolded. "We were just talking about you and not me."
He looked at her and she him. "Oh, Belle, you know how I love to share the spotlight," he grinned.
She playfully rolled her eyes, "That's likely." She smiled at his chuckle then rested her head on his shoulder. She watched their little boy for several moments. She shifted her cheek. "Gaston?"
He hummed.
"I am your girl."
He cracked a smile. "Those would be your words not mine."
She lightly laughed. "Well said."
That last bit, a nod to her not wishing to be called his little wife ;)
Thanks for reading!
*Also! I hope I was able to keep their fluffiness or chemistry together, it's been a while! :D I still can't believe it's been over a year since I've updated Dx it's both felt so much shorter than that and so much longer at the same time!
