Hey guys! Once again, thank you all for the kind words on these little stories! It means a lot and I'm happy you're enjoying them! So this was requested by someone and I'm totally blanking on the person so I apologize for that!

It takes places right after Belle and Beast come back from the Paris in the movie, with the book. I liked that added bit, but I know a lot of people were iffy on it. I do wish they had added an extra scene of Belle afterwards but hey that's what fanfic is for!

The wretched book brought nothing but pain. Another cruel trick placed on him by the Enchantress, mocking him anytime he dared to enter the library. It found it's way towards the back of the massive room, but still he could hear it mocking him. A book that truly allowed someone to escape. How foolish he was to think it would be that easy. For how could he escape looking the way he did? If someone had seen him, even for the briefest of moments, terror would take over the, screaming and running away from the beast he had become.

He couldn't use the book, no matter how hard he wished. A prisoner in his own castle, with an escape that would lead him nowhere.

Belle was a different story. She could easily blend in with the crowds of people if she so wished. He remembered that she mentioned wanting to explore different parts of the world, having been trapped in her small village for so long. It pained him, knowing he was the reason she couldn't go, but then he remembered. The book. It would be the perfect escape for her, something that would make her happy. At least he hoped. They had grown close with their time together and he would do almost anything to make her happy, to see her smile, to hear her laugh.

The book had been a massive mistake.

They arrived back in the library, Belle visibly shaken, and he found himself frozen. What could he do, what could he offer? There was a fear that he would overstep her boundaries, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

She looked up at him, her smile tight, and unshed tears glossing her eyes, "I...thank you, I just…," she stammered, voice hitching slightly, "I need to get ready for dinner."

"O-of course…," he replied, his chest tightening as he watched her walk away. She tried to disguise it, but her pace was faster than normal, her shoulders shaking slightly.

The pain was something he could understand. When he had seen the mask, picked it up and turned it over in his paws, a wave of dread had washed over him. His mother hadn't suffered from the plague, but it was something he saw the doctors carrying around with them. He remembered asking Mrs. Potts about the masks and the color from her face drained. It wasn't a topic people liked to discuss he found, like the mention of it could somehow bring it within a household.

The death of his mother was something that had never left him. He had stayed by her side every chance that he could, trying to be strong, trying to keep her strong. He had prayed every night for her to live, to stay by his side. But nothing worked. His eyes never left his mother's body as his father pulled him away. She was pale, so cold compared to what she had been only a month or so ago.

Belle didn't know her mother though. From what he gathered, she had faint memories of her and the small stories her father would tell, but nothing solid. It was something she must have clung to, one of her heart's greatest desires. He had offered her the world with the book and she had brought them there, in that small attic. With each passing moment, watching her walk around the room as she ran her hand down an easel, a familiar scent filled the air. It was slowly coming together for him and he could see it on Belle's face as well.

He wanted to give her the world, allow her to escape, and all he brought to her was pain.

The frown on his race deepened, his brows furrowed in frustration, and he glared down at the book. It sat opened, the grains of gold moving slowly over the page, and his hatred for it only grew. Slamming it shut with his paw, he quickly locked it back up and stomped over to the back shelf where he kept it.

It continued to mock him and he wasn't in the mood to be mocked.

Somehow, he found himself standing outside her room in the east wing. It was different from the first time he had, no castle staff to pester him, no anger in his heart. He was worried about Belle and it had been eating at him since she left the library. There had to be a way he could comfort her, to help her. She had helped him so much already and it was his fault she found herself in this pain.

Taking a calming breath, he slowly raised a paw to the door and lightly knocked on it, "Belle?"

A muffled sob caught his ear and he backed away slowly, unsure. What right did he have to talk to her in a time of such despair? What right did he have to ask? They had grown closer in the weeks she had been here, but that didn't mean she had to talk to him about such things. To pour her heart out to him and tell her everything that was wrong.

But he also knew how painful it was to deal with the passing of a loved one alone. Those days after his mother's death, he had no one to comfort but himself. The staff had tried, Mrs. Potts especially, but his father had scared them away from him. Left him alone to deal with the heartache, the misery that set into his soul.

He couldn't leave Belle alone like that. As he raised his paw to knock again, the door opened slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. Confused, he looked down and he was caught in Belle's gaze. Her eyes and cheeks were red, puffy from what he assumed was her crying. He stood frozen looking at her. There was a sadness in her eyes he hadn't seen before and he had to control himself from reaching out to her.

"I-I'm sorry, I lost track of time," she whispered, rubbing at her cheek, "you didn't have to come up here, I should hav-"

"You don't need to apologize Belle," he interrupted gruffly, "I... I wanted to make sure you were ok."

Her eyes widened for a moment, staring up at him. They stood together like that in the hall, the only noise coming from the distant clanging of the kitchen. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he shifted nervously, but didn't dare to blink.

A hint of a smile formed on the corner of her lips, her shoulders sagging slightly, "Thank you..., did…," she paused, looking back into her room then up at him with a raised eyebrow, "did you want to come in?"

"C-come in?" he stammered, taken aback. He could feel a heat rush up to his face and cursed himself. What a ridiculous reaction to have! She was just asking for him to come in her room and talk. His mind racing, he nodded his head, "I-if you wouldn't mind me intruding…."

"It's not intruding, it's...good to have someone to talk to about these sorts of things," she replied, nodding to herself as she said it. Opening the door more, Belle backed into her room, looking for something.

"There doesn't seem to be a chair in here," she mumbled to herself as she looked around, the Beast watching her as he slowly walked it. It had been years since he had entered this room. The gold coming off the wall shimmered just as brightly as he remembered, the furniture spotless from any dust. His eyes wandered over to the wardrobe and he frowned slightly, knowing the Madame was there. Trapped in this room away from her loving husband.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, turning away from his dark thoughts, "I can just sit on the ground…"

She turned to him and looked mortified, "No, no I couldn't ask you to do that!" she countered.

"I've sat in worse places."

Shaking her head, she looked around the room again, "If you sit on the ground, then I will too. Let's…," her eyes trailed over to her bed, "we can sit against the bed."

"You don't have to sit on the ground on my account," he fretted, watching her grab a blanket from one of the closets.

Spreading out the blanket, she knelt down and sat against the end of the bed frame. Though somber, she smiled up at him as she patted the blanket, inviting him.

Sighing, he followed suit, slowly trying to get his bearing on the ground. He avoided crushing his tail and crossed his legs, trying to leave some space in between them.

"You seem to have a habit for sitting on the ground," he grumbled playfully.

She laughed lightly, looking up at him, "It''s not too bad, it can actually be pretty comfy if you find the right place."

Silence settled over them, Belle fiddling with the hem of her skirts. The Beast wasn't sure what to say, he hadn't expected this to go as far as it did. A wave of nerves washed over him. He didn't understand why it always seemed to come when he was around Belle. When he was still human, he hadn't felt these types of emotions when he was around other girls.

Then again, those girls weren't Belle.

"I wanted to thank you," Belle said, breaking the Beast from his thoughts, "for taking me there. It was something...that I had wanted to see for so long."

A rattling caught his attention and his gaze fell to her hands, which held the small rose rattle she had found in the attic. Her fingers lightly traced the petals, fully absorbed in her own world.

"I had a feeling something bad had happened to my mother," she continued in a whisper, "the way my papa would react anytime I brought her up. His eyes...they would cloud over, a sadness would settle there. Like he was reliving it all over again."

She bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears again, and before he could think, the Beast reached out and gently took me her hand into his paw. The sudden contact didn't seem to bother her and she squeezed his paw lightly.

She looked up at him and gave him a watery smile, eyes shining, "I just don't know why my papa didn't tell me...or if ever planned to tell me, he was so secretive about her," she continued, choking back a sob, "it hurts more then I thought, I didn't even know her but still the thought of her dying like that…"

"That could be the reason why," he replied softly, Belle shooting him a confused look, "the lasting image of your mother, he could have...wanted to preserve that. To have you remember all the wonderful things about her, not the way she left this world."

"He always did protect me at any chance," she whispered, shaking her head, "I know he means well. I just don't think he would have ever told me."

"Did you…," he stopped, finding the words, the right way to phrase it, "even though it was painful...did you like finding out?"

The question seemed to have struck her. Her gaze moved from him to some point in the room and it looked like a million thoughts were running through her head.

"I...did," she said slowly after a moment, "even if it was painful. Just having that knowledge...it's gives me closure."

The Beast nodded, an agreeing rumble coming from his throat, and they feel back into a comfortable silence. His eyes traced the room, allowing Belle to have some sense of privacy. It was immaculate. There was times, when he was younger and wanted to get away, that he found himself in this room. It had been his little secret, his escape from his regal father, from the life he wa living.

Funny that it had also been one of the rooms left almost untouched by the curse that had the castle crumbling.

"Can I ask you something?" her voice brought him back and he looked back down to her. Her brows were furrowed, worried?, and she bit her bottom lip again.

A playful comment crossed his mind, but he kept it to himself. Searching her face, he could tell her inquiry was along the serious side. A sense of dread settled over him, an inkling of what it was she wanted to know, but he brushed it off.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Is...is the last thing you see of your mother…?"

Right to the heart of it. Belle always did seem to have a way of reading into his words differently from others, see beyond what he was saying. She could read him as well as one of her books sometimes.

"Is the lasting image I have of my mother when she died?" He asked, finishing her question. Her gaze was intense, searching, as if she worried she went to far.

It stung for a moment, his mother flashing before his eyes. But as he looked down at the small brunette, who clutched his paw without any fear, that pain slowly faded.

"At first it was, I would go to sleep and any time I closed my eyes...I saw her face, how pale it was, how different she had looked," he explained, his voice rough, "it took some time but I would just try to remember the other memories I had of her."

"And that helped?"

He shrugged, "As much as it could. Sometimes I find my mind lingering on her sickness...but it passes."

Nodding slowly, Belle brushed her thumb over her knuckles, smiling slightly, "I'll keep that in mind."

Her hand slide out of his paw, the warmth leaving along with it, and she slowly stood up. Straightening out her skirts, she glanced out the window and let out an amused huff, "I'm sure Lumiere is upset we missed dinner."

He snorted, standing up next to her, and rolled his eyes, "He has a tendency to go over the top with meals. Ever the showman."

"Oh you like it, don't lie," she teased, a smile stretching across her face, "how he gets the plates to fly around is beyond me."

"Yes that was something I always wondered as well," he replied in a deadpan, causing her to giggle.

Her eyes, which held no tears but warmth, caught his and he could feel his heart skip. Somehow this girl had wormed her way into his heart, which had been closed off for so long. It scared him, to be so open with her. It had been so long since someone could understand him, to see beyond the wall he had created.

Belle smiled up at him, "We should probably go then before they come hunting for us right?"

Shutting off his thoughts, he snorted again as they walked to the door, "I'm sure they already are knowing the lot of them."

Laughing again, she pushed open the double doors and they walked down the hallways, side by side.

Things were better, with her here. But it never escaped him that she was here because of the choice she made. Even if he found himself caring for her, and even if she opened up to him, nothing could change that fact.

At least, in their time together, they could share these moments.