Author's Notes: I do not own Once Upon A Time. So, thank you for the reads and reviews, I really appreciate them and also I am glad I'm not alone in my distrust of the Blue Fairy. So, Happy Thanksgiving! Even if you're not in the U.S., still Happy Thanksgiving. Feel free to overeat. Anyway, please let me know what you think and happy reading!
Beatrice's eyes glazed over. It felt like she had entered the point of consciousness right before she fell asleep. She had been vaguely aware of Granny hovering over her for a while.
She heard Belle's high heel first and then her mother knelt down in front of her.
"Beatrice, what is it?," asked Belle. "What's happened?"
"The tree."
"The Enchanted Tree. The one Emma came through..."
Belle furrowed her brow. "The sheriff?"
"She's the Savior. She matters. I don't. I never have."
Belle's jaw dropped. "Beatrice, of course you matter!"
"No, not really," she replied matter of factly. "I'm not special."
"Not special?!," Belle exclaimed.
"No, see it's just like everything else."
"You're special," said Belle. "You're smart. You're tenacious-"
"And show me where in life that matters more than being pretty and likeable and I'll agree."
"I like you."
"You're biased," said Beatrice. "Not to mention, you like everyone. And if you could remember who you were, you would see my point."
"What point?"
"If you're pretty and people like you, you can get away with anything. If you're Taylor, nobody cares how shallow you are. If you're Cinderella, nobody cares that you're such a moron you sold your firstborn."
"Cinderella?"
"She didn't read the stupid contract and nobody bothers mentioning it."
"Why are we talking about Cinderella?." Belle asked in confusion.
"You've got to be born special. My fate is not special. Emma gets to be special. I don't."
"If I'm Beauty and your father's the Beast, doesn't that make you special?" Belle was grasping at straws, anything to stop this despair.
"The guy's got one freaking story in that book. And it's not like I'm going to have a ride at Disney World. That chipped cup gets more screen time than me. Basically, the best I can hope for is Elphaba from Wicked."
"The Wicked Witch of the West?"
"The book not the musical. I mean, Idina Menzel can at least sing."
Belle shook her head. "Beatrice, I am trying, but I don't understand."
"It will all make sense to you later."
"Could you at least get off the floor?"
The man threw Belle onto the floor. She had just begun her journey back to the Dark Castle when he had come upon her and hustled her away. Just her luck to be alone when she would have had Mulan and Philip to protect her mere moments before.
"Is this her?," he barked at another man. Both were finely dressed with crests and armor, though Belle didn't know the crests they bore.
The other stepped forward and pulled out some kind of scroll. "Yes."
The other turned back. "What is your name, girl?"
Seeing no alternative, she answered. "I'm Belle of Avonlea."
"Your mother?"
"The Lady Reinette. What's the-"
"And your father?"
"Sir Maurice. What is the meaning of this?"
The first turned back. "She says Sir Maurice."
"Well, she would, wouldn't she? A perfect hiding place."
Belle was just confused. "Who are you? What is the meaning for all of these questions?"
"I am Sir Gawain," said the man who had thrown her down.
"And I am Sir Percival."
"Wait, you're Knights of the Round Table," said Belle. "What do Knights of the Round Table want with me?"
Gawain looked at Percival. "Either she is a very skilled liar or she has no idea what we're talking about."
"And what are you to the Dark One?," asked Percival.
Belle paused. The hesitation was enough for the knights.
"Perhaps it is not too late," said Gawain. "Perhaps Merlin's vision has not come to pass."
"Merlin's vision?," asked Belle.
Percival ignored her. "And do what with her?"
"Well, kill her, preferably..." said Gawain.
"What?!," Belle screamed.
"We're trying to talk here," said Gawain, dismissing her.
Belle sat on the porch at the inn alone. It was getting late and she had managed to put Beatrice to bed. Belle had hoped August would come back, but the consensus seemed to be that he was off with Emma. She had taken a book out to the porch, but hadn't read it. Instead, she had flipped through every photo on her phone.
"Miss French?"
Belle looked up. Mr. Gold was standing next to her.
"Mr. Gold. Hi."
"How are you?"
Belle shrugged. "Did you um-"
"Well, you left lunch in such a rush, I thought I would make sure everything was alright."
"Beatrice is... no, everything's not alright. She's fine physically, but I think the delusions are getting to be too much."
Gold sat in the next chair. "The story with the Enchanted Forest?"
Belle smiled. "Right. The Enchanted Forest. It's all in this book, August gave it to her when she was a baby. It's not the usual fairy tales."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Rumplestiltskin turns out to be Cinderella's fairy godmother and she's sold him her baby."
"Well, that's different."
"It's not the fairy tales. It's how she thinks she fits into them." Belle looked at Gold. "She doesn't think she's special. She doesn't think she has a place in them."
"She doesn't think she's special?"
"You said you had a son. I mean, is there any other sentence you can think of that's more awful to hear from your child? Give me an 'I hate you' or 'You're suffocating me' any day."
"There might be something worst," Gold commented ruefully. "I think I understand, though."
"I mean, you tell them to be themselves, that it's okay to be different and then they're praying they fit in and you're praying they fit in. It was okay when she was younger. I could make her feel special. She doesn't have parties, she doesn't go to parties. Her last birthday, I was the only one who cared."
"Perhaps she just prefers solitude."
"No, how could anyone? She's right. We are on our own. She says I take pictures and I have no one to show them to and she is right."
Gold noticed she was clutching at her phone. "Are you expecting a call?"
"No, I was just looking at it," said Belle. "Just about every picture I have of her is on here. She loaded it for me. I think she deleted anything with braces or a bad pimple, but all on here. I've been staring at them, trying to figure out where I went wrong."
"I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong."
Belle shook her head. "That's the problem with single motherhood. No one to blame but yourself."
"Did you want to show me?," Gold asked Belle, motioning at the phone.
Belle shook her head. "Oh, God, no, I couldn't bore you like that."
"No, not at all," said Gold. "You need someone to talk to."
Belle stared at him and then smiled. "Maybe just a couple."
"Okay," said Percival, turning to Belle. "How would you prefer to be killed?"
"What?"
"Well, we're going to have to kill you-"
"We definitely are."
"And we just wondered if you had any thoughts on that."
Belle shook her head at them. "You're both crazy."
Suddenly, both men flew back into the wall as if there were a gust of wind from somewhere. They seemed pinned there and Belle turned, thinking it must have been Rumplestiltskin.
It wasn't.
It was an older man, but definitely not feeble. He was long and wiry and his face reminded Belle of a hawk or something. He approached them carefully.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Merlin," Percival gasped.
"Merlin, please, we had orders-"
"Oh, did you now?," asked Merlin. "Whose orders? Was it that bed-hopping trollop?"
"Sorry," said Belle, "what's going on?"
Merlin turned back from his interrogation. "Just a minute."
"Okay..." Belle said skeptically.
Merlin looked back at them. "I'm going to let you go and count to three. If you're not gone when I'm finished counting, I'm going to turn you into a snail. If you ever go near this woman again, I will turn you into a snail, unless I can think of something worse, then I'm going to turn you into that and don't think you can hide from me. Whatever land you're in, I will know what you do."
He released his fist and the knights fell to the floor, then clamored over each other to run out.
Merlin turned back to Belle.
"Who are you?," she asked.
"Merlin. You know, Merlin?"
Belle didn't speak.
"Is it the outfit? I think when people hear wizard, they want a hat and a beard. I'm over the hat and beard thing. Are you just going to sit there on the ground?"
Belle got up and dusted herself off.
"What are you wearing?," he asked.
Belle looked down at herself, she was still wearing the clothes she had been to the expedition. "I was hunting a beast."
"Yes, but I think you're hunting a different beast now. A far more dangerous prey than a prince some middling evil fairy cast a curse on."
Belle's jaw dropped. "How do you know that?"
"I'm Merlin, Belle of Avonlea. Now, we should get a move on before your imp does something stupid. Well, more stupid than usual."
He waved his hand and the door opened. Belle hurried to follow him out.
When August returned, Beatrice was in the hallway having taken her iPad while Belle slept so she could watch Doctor Who in peace.
"Oh, yay," said Beatrice as August limped in. "How's that whole Savior thing going?"
August leaned against the wall. "Not great. She refuses to believe."
"Well, that's just the thing I needed to cap off my day," said Beatrice.
"What do you mean?"
"I saw the pages in your room," said Beatrice. "Traded for a tree."
"Beatrice-"
"I hope it was a good tree. I mean, like really good. Oh, you would know. You got to go through it."
"The Savior had to-"
"Yes, I know. She had to come here and save everyone. I bet that's going to be awesome. I'm really looking forward to it."
"What do you want me to say, Beatrice?"
She shrugged. "Am I anyone in the book? Do I even matter?"
"The book's not everything."
Beatrice stood up. "And with that crappy platitude, I am done."
"Where are you going?"
She walked off and began heading down the stairs. "Why do you want to know? It doesn't matter."
Belle followed Merlin through a forest.
"Where are you taking me?," asked Belle.
"It's a shortcut, my dear."
"A shortcut?"
He looked back. "You know, to the Dark Castle, to reunite you with your True Love, Rumplestiltskin."
"And how do you know that?"
"I'm Merlin."
Belle saw no choice but to keep following. "The knights, they spoke of a vision you had."
"What sort of vision?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there's having a vision of the future and there's having a vision of the future."
"That's really the same thing," said Belle.
"Fine. There's visualizing and envisioning. I'm done with visualizing and now I'm envisioning."
"Why did you save me?"
Merlin stopped and turned. "What did I just say?"
"You have a vision of the future. I don't see what I have to do with that."
"I have been waiting a very long time for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, I've worked at all the other elements for years, but you, dear Belle, you are the finishing touch."
"I am?"
"You have goodness and courage and intelligence. Mind you, just a dash of stupidity in there."
"Excuse me?"
"You're in love with an imp, my dear. Now I do require that you be in love with an imp or this thing won't work, but still, you must admit, not your most brilliant decision."
"Wait, you want me to be in love with Rumplestiltskin? What for?"
"You heard me."
Belle stopped walking. She wasn't eager to repeat the incident with the Queen. "What for? Is this some trick? Do you want me to betray him?"
Merlin stopped and turned back. "Oh, see there, that's True Love. That's the stuff."
"Who are you? Really, who are you?"
"I told you. I am a man with a vision of the future."
"And what role do I play in it?"
"Is there a point in telling you? Remember, no one decides your fate but you, my dear."
Belle was in shock. "How did you-"
"I told you that. You were very young, barely bigger than my hand."
"I don't know you."
"I know you. I know everything about you. I knew your mother, her mother, her mother and as I said, I have been waiting for you a very long time."
"To do what?"
"What you do." He turned. "And here we are."
Belle looked up. It was the Dark Castle.
"What? We... this isn't possible."
"I told you. It's a shortcut."
"But-"
"Now, what are we going to do about the outfit?"
There was a shimmer as Merlin waved his hand. Belle looked down and realized she was in a gold gown. The wizard seemed pleased with his efforts.
"You know, you just have to go with the classics. Now, you, go make the future happen and I'll see you around."
Belle looked at him in dismay.
"Are you going to just stand here?"
"Thank you," Belle said, unsure of the sentiment.
She hurried back up the path and into the Dark Castle.
Beatrice walked down the street. She wandered aimlessly through the cursed town, knowing there was nothing she could do to make a difference.
That was when she spotted Savior Girl loading a yellow VW bug with a box.
Leaving town.
What the hell.
Then she had an idea. She didn't know where it came from or why, but immediately decided it was a good one.
Beatrice walked into the pharmacy and was greeted with a sneeze.
"Oh, please," she groaned as she identified his alter ego.
Beatrice quickly found the grilling aisle and returned to the register with lighter fluid and a box of matches.
"You have to be eighteen to buy that."
"You can take the money or I can just take it."
The pharmacist frowned. "I'm calling the sheriff."
"No, you know what?," said Beatrice. She put a ten on the counter. "I'm going to."
She picked up the lighter fluid and matches, then walked to the door where there was a fire extinguisher.
"And I'm borrowing this," she said. "Just in case."
Beatrice walked back out. She pulled the box back out and put it on the sidewalk. She was waiting when Emma came back down with a bag.
"Uh, Beatrice, hi."
"What are you doing?," she asked.
"What am I doing?"
"See because it looks like you're leaving town and I know you're not leaving town."
Emma shrugged. "Beatrice, look, this really isn't any of your business.'
"Uh, yeah, it kind of is because you're sort of ruining my life right now."
"I'm ruining your life? I just met you."
"Uh, you're kind of ruining everyone's lives because you suck at being a Savior."
"You, too? Did you and August meet at a support group or something? I don't want to be your savior."
"No, you would not be my first choice, either."
"What?"
"I would pick someone a little smarter, someone more likely to actually believe, someone who actually gives a damn about other people."
"Is this your way of persuading me? Because it sucks."
"Well, you suck."
Emma shook her head. "You're all crazy."
"Besides, I don't have to persuade you to be the Savior. You are the Savior. I just need to find a way to get you to do whatever it is you need to do and to start with, I have to keep you from leaving town."
She struck a match.
"Beatrice, what are you doing?"
"I'm crazy, remember?"
Beatrice tossed the match into the car. Emma's eyes widened as the flames grew.
"Oh, my God!" She looked at Beatrice. "Are you insane?!"
"Yes, we clarified that. Get over it, I took your stuff out," she said motioning at the boxes on the sidewalk.
"Arson! Really?!"
"Arrest me," said Beatrice.
Suddenly, lights around begin to flick on. People came out of their apartments and anything still open.
Mary Margaret came out of the building in her pajamas with a coat thrown over.
"Oh, my God! Emma, your car."
"I torched it. You're welcome," said Beatrice.
Mary Margaret frowned. "Sorry, who are you?"
"Beatrice. I'm the new crazy girl in town," she said as the fire truck arrived. "Emma was just leaving, but, oh, look, she doesn't have a car."
Mary Margaret looked down at Emma's belongings on the sidewalk. "You were leaving? Emma!"
Mary Margaret and Emma proceeded to argue while Beatrice pondered the turn of events.
Well, she had made her stay. That was something.
"Okay," said Emma, grabbing her by the arm, "you're coming to the station."
