A/N: I did tweak the timeframe for this story to make it fit in modern times. In case anyone was wondering why it was different.

Dead Again

Prompt: With the help of Diane Madsen, Belle is able to get a clue on who she might be. The only problem: Is it her or a past life? (Rated T)

Since the moment Diane came to his apartment, Hamish wasn't sure what to make of her. What was her angle? What was she hoping to gain? In his line of business free didn't mean free, yet he couldn't pin what her price might be. She seemed earnest and Belle seemed to like her. Maybe it was his suspicious nature talking but Hamish wasn't going to leave Belle alone with her.

"Let's give it a try, shall we? If it doesn't work, then I apologize for the waste of time," Diane said.

"Whatever," he replied. Belle glared at him and turned back to Diane to give her full cooperation.

"All right, my dear. Take a seat and relax. Good. Mr. Gold, if you would be so kind as to dim the lights? Thank you. Now, this type of amnesiac behavior happens when something traumatic happens. It's so bad they want to erase it from their minds, but the trouble is they can erase everything else too. Hypnosis can look back into your memories and find out exactly what went wrong. Keep your eyes on me my dear. Very good. Listen to my voice as you go deeper and deeper… Very nice. Now, let's go back and see what we uncover."

Hamish, skeptically, watched the exchange but to his shock… Belle's eyes began to flutter and then close as Diane spoke softly to her.

"Good, good," she went on. "Tell me—has something—"

Then, without warning, Belle threw her head back screaming, "Somebody help me!" Her hands clawed at her throat as she opened her eyes and stared at Diane, her breathing uneven and erratic.

Carefully, Diane pulled Belle's hands away. "There, there," she cooed. "Wake up. Wake up now."

Belle was back or as close to being back as her eyes frantically searched the room, her petite frame shaking uncontrollably.

Hamish immediately tried to go to her, but Diane waved him back.

"Is she-?" he started to ask. "Did something happen?" He directed this to Belle who could only look at him helplessly. "Can you speak now?"

Her mouth opened but no words would come out.

"Well, we know that she can speak," Diane said. Standing up, she went to Hamish with a business card in her hand. "If you both like… you can come by my shop tomorrow and try again. I will need more time—several hours at the most. Then we can find out who this young lady is."

Belle's renewed hope was all he needed to keep him from saying "thank but no thanks." She wanted to do this and who was he to say no? Despite his initial feelings, Hamish had to begrudgingly admit the hypnosis did get her to talk. With more time… who knows what else they could uncover?

"Tomorrow it is," he said, taking the card.

xxXXxx

Around twelve-thirty they arrived at Diane's shop. It was an antiques store and Hamish was starting to regret coming here. Yet, Belle playfully tugged at his arm as she led them inside. They found Diane already with a client (if he had to guess) in the corner sitting at a table.

Hamish and Belle watched with part amusement, part are-you-kidding-me? as the client—an older man—speak with such a high, childish voice as he recounted the fun times he spent with Uncle Houdini. Yet, it was Diane's unusual questioning about an Ouija board that caught Hamish's attention. As soon as the client told her what happened, Diane told him he would wake up and not remember this discussion. In a snap, he woke up with a smile on his face.

"I don't think you needn't fear about those cigarette cravings. Have a good day!" Diane told her client as he got up and left the store. She saw Belle and Hamish standing not far away and beckoned them to come closer.

It didn't take long for Diane to close the shop up and get Belle settled as she darkened the windows and lights. Only candles were lit to cast enough light for the three to see as Diane took a seat across from Belle at the table.

"Now, Belle, I want you to look at the candle in front of you. Now picture yourself walking down some stairs. With each step you'll relax further and tell yourself you're going deeper and deeper…"

Like the previous time, Belle's eyes began to close as her breathing became steady. She was under all right and Hamish had no choice but to watch and pray that this works.

"Since you were excited yesterday, we're going to have you distance yourself so you're only a witness to the events that you see. You're not involved in any way is that clear? Now, as you reach the ground, I want you to imagine a door in front of you. This door can be anywhere or anytime you wish to visit. Go on… open it and what do you see?"

Hamish was waiting for another freak out, but only a glimpse of a very happy smile graced Belle's lips. Wherever Belle was… she seemed all right.

"The day we first met," Belle replied dreamily.

"Distance yourself," Diane advised. "You're a witness."

It took a moment before Belle spoke again. And what she said was astounding. "It was the day Rupert and Isabelle first met."

"Isabelle who?" Hamish asked, earning a hiss from Diane to be quiet.

"Strauss," Belle continued.

That sent Diane in a sudden spur of coughing, but she quickly swallowed some water. "Very well. Tell us about the day that Rupert and Isabelle met. How long ago was it?"

"1968," she answered.

"Okay. That's it. We're done here," Hamish said.

"Mr. Gold really. I insist you stop at once—"

"Do you hear her? She thinks she met a man in 1968. As far as I'm concerned, this session is done."

"On the contrary," Diane said. "There are times that hypnosis can bring a person back into a past life. Do you recall what I said about a traumatic experience? This could very well explain what it was that led to Miss Belle forgetting who she is. Now I suggest you keep your comments to yourself and let me finish."

Hamish didn't like to be chastised, but this crazy old bat could have a point. Wisely keeping his mouth shut, he listened as Belle proceeded to describe what went on that day.

"Rachmanioff was on the program. Rupert was a guest conductor and everyone was terrified of him. Everyone except Isabelle. He had escaped Germany before the war and wanted to spread his music here in America. Isabelle played the piano and she was right below him as the show played. She wasn't afraid to look him in the eye, which unnerved him since no one would directly make eye contact. But that was Isabelle—she was different from any other woman he had ever met.

"After the opera, she invited him for drinks and he couldn't seem to refuse her… They danced the night away and told stories. Rupert could tell jokes, which made Isabelle laugh. There was a charm about him that no one knew or realized in the fierce maestro. But Isabelle adored him. They fell in love. As Isabelle's career grew, Rupert decided to write a new opera that would make him famous here as he was in Europe. He wanted Isabelle to play for him and she gladly accepted.

"However, there were some who didn't like Isabelle near Rupert. They told her all kinds of things about his past—like how he was married before and she died as they tried to escape Germany. But she knew this. Rupert told her his wife died of a weak heart in the mountains as they fled. It had been horrible for him, but Isabelle was grateful he had survived so they could meet. Rupert lived in this huge house with only him, his housekeeper, and his music. When he met Isabelle he had never been so happy and he had to have her. Little did he know, Isabelle was already his.

"The wedding was so beautiful. They were so much in love and so incredibly happy that even Rupert's harshest critics couldn't deny that this was real. And they knew that no one and nothing could ever tear them apart. Until he saw her. It was a former friend and lover that came to the wedding. A reporter. He came to wish the blushing bride a lifetime of happiness and bliss. Rupert didn't like him but Isabelle assured him that he only meant well. Rupert acceded but it didn't stop him from watching him to make sure he didn't try to take his wife away.

"As nighttime came, Rupert gave Isabelle the most beautiful present she ever had. It was an anklet encrusted with diamonds and rubies. He told her that the man who sold it to him told him that when a husband gives this to his wife they become two halves of the same person. No matter what… nothing can separate them, not even death."

Before Belle could go into further details of the wedding night, Diane snapped her fingers thus ending the session.

Hamish let out a whistle. "Man, I wasn't expecting that."

"No one ever does Mr. Gold. Well, there you have it. Of course, we do need to have more sessions, but it won't be long before Belle regains her memories and her voice—"

"May I—May I have a glass of water?" The very soft, tender voice like chimes interrupted them and they realized it was Belle!

"You can talk!" Hamish cried, going to her. "What's your name? Where are you-?"

"Mr. Gold, you should give her some space and time. Here you are, my dear. Drink up."

Becoming irritated with the woman, Hamish ignored her. "Do you know if they're alive? Maybe I can contact them—"

"Mr. Gold, I think you two need to look at this." Diane came out with a magazine. "I thought the names sounded familiar and I remember as a young girl I've seen Rupert Strauss' operas before. See?"

She flipped the pages to an article that showcased the accomplished musicians at the time. Putting her finger to the page, she showed Hamish and Belle. "This is Rupert and his wife, Isabelle."

Belle gasped as she took the magazine from Diane's hands. "She—she looks like me," she said in awe. "Hamish…"

He looked over her shoulder. Indeed, the resemblance was uncanny. The only difference was that Isabelle had shorter hair and it was way curlier than Belle's. But it was Rupert that captured his attention. If Hamish had a beard and mustache, then he would be the spitting image of the German composer. It was farfetched, although he couldn't ignore the flutters in his stomach that something seemed wrong.

"Yes. It's hard to believe he had murdered her."

At their looks, Diane gravelly nodded. "He stabbed her in the throat with a pair of scissors. Lovely ones too. Gold-plated I believe."

"But—" Belle looked at the photos. "It doesn't make sense. They were so much in love. Rupert would never hurt Isabelle."

"Sadly, in most cases, it's the loved ones that murders," Hamish explained. "I don't understand how she could know this."

"Hard to say Mr. Gold. But we seem to be on the right path. Let's try again tomorrow. Will that be all right with you my dear?"

Belle blinked. "Oh. Uh, yes. Tomorrow's fine. Thank you."

Hamish couldn't keep his eyes off her, but he didn't know if he believed in this past lives bit. But Belle was talking now and that was progress. Maybe Diane Madsen had something going here. Though to be sure he was going to make sure Belle wasn't alone in their sessions.

"Well, I guess we have some research to do," he told Belle as they walked out of the shop. "Let's see what else we can find on Rupert and Isabelle Strauss."