Sorry for the long wait, but here it is! Chapter 5!

No, I don't own BATB, just this fanfic.

Belle finished wrapping my arm. The wound wasn't deep, but it was large and Belle mentioned something about infection. As Belle tended to the rest of the wounds, she was careful not to make them sting any more than they had to.

As she examined the wounds, she looked concerned. "I think one or two of these might need stitches, or they might not heal properly," she said worriedly. "I've never done this before…but I'll try my best." As she sewed them closed, I swore I'd never get into a fight with the wolves again. It was too painful.

"I think that's all of them," she said, standing up. I was wet, bandaged, and sewn together like a rag doll. I hoped that was it. I looked at Belle, ready to thank her, when I noticed bloodstains on the hem of her dress, and cuts on her arms and legs. Guilt coursed through me; I knew those were from thorns and branches attacking her as she ran from my castle.

I stood, gingerly, and faced her. "You're hurt," I said bluntly. Belle looked at her arms and shook her head.

"I'll be fine. It's just a few scratches," she replied, waving it aside. But I stood adamant. I was just as stubborn as she was, if not more so.

"They can still get infected," I pointed out. Belle sighed and looked up at my face. One eyebrow was arched in disbelief. I merely returned the stare. Eventually, Belle sat down and tended to her own minor wounds. Thankfully, the wolves hadn't bitten her. Wolf bites easily got infected, especially with those wolves.

"I'm stuck here, aren't I?"

I turned to her, confused.

"Stuck?"

"The wolves. They attack anyone who leaves the castle, don't they?" Belle asked, not looking up. She still sat on the floor, so I took my chair again.

"They attack anyone who enters the forest if they scent them," I explained. "I'm amazed you even got here without seeing them."

"If there were wolves," Belle replied, "I was too panicked to care."

"SOUP?!" Both of us looked up. Lumière and Cogsworth were talking to Mrs. Potts and something she'd said made them cry out. My old governess-turned-teapot shook what she had for a head and came over. She'd asked the kitchen to prepare something for us to eat, and it was ready.

"Is it soup?" Belle asked dryly. I coughed to hide the laugh that threatened to escape. Mrs. Potts glared at me and nodded. We followed her to the dining room.

I stopped when I looked at the table. I hadn't used silverware in years, my paws not being made for it, and I'd forgotten how to use it. This would be…embarrassing.

Belle sat down and started eating her soup right away. I nervously squeezed into a chair that was a little too small for me and attempted to use a spoon. What occurred was a mess of fur and soup.

Belle watched as I tried to teach my paws how to work like human hands again after ten years. Finally, I gave up. Belle smiled softly and set her spoon aside. She carefully lifted her bowl and said, "Cheers!"

I took the hint and did the same. I still ate like an animal, but it wasn't as humiliating. Mrs. Potts smiled and led Belle off to her room and bed. Before she left, though, Belle stopped and touched my arm to get my attention. "You might want a napkin," she whispered. I blushed under my fur and took the advice, watching her as she went.

I was up before dawn the next morning, the bandages and stitches making comfortable sleep hard to get. Belle had said they needed changing daily until the wounds started healing. And she'd offered to do it.

She offered to touch me. For years, the servants had avoided touching me, even Mrs. Potts. As the ability to feel slowly left them, it became easier for them to touch me, but they still did rarely. I hadn't felt anyone else's touch, a human touch, in years. Grabbing someone by the collar or sleeve didn't count.

I looked down at my arm. Belle had known what she was doing, and it didn't hurt unless I touched it. A sound at my door interrupted my thoughts.

"Master, breakfast will be up in a few minutes," Mrs. Potts informed me. I turned around, about to say something. She beat me to it. "Belle's still asleep. Poor dear. Last night had to be exhausting, to say the least."

I nodded slowly, thinking. "If anyone disturbs her, they'll hear it from me," I muttered. Mrs. Potts looked at me with an incomprehensible look in her eyes and nodded before returning to the business of breakfast.

Breakfast arrived shortly after that. "Ah! Everyone is talking about last night, sire," Cogsworth informed me. "Most of the younger servants had never seen you eat in the dining room before!"

I glared at the clock. I knew what I hadn't done in years, eating in the dining room was one of them. "Cogsworth…" I was tempted to shut him up for good, but an idea sparked in my head. "Find one of my shirts."

Cogsworth nodded, then did a double take. "A what, sire?" I repeated my request. "You want a shirt?"

I turned away, head in paws. "Are you going deaf as well as becoming a clock, Cogsworth?" I asked, straining hard to keep my contempt hidden.

"No sir. Not yet."

"Then what is so hard about understanding that I want you to bring me a shirt?" Cogsworth rambled for a few minutes before leaving, obviously bewildered. I took a deep breath and managed to keep my temper.

The mantle clock returned shortly with a white shirt. "I-I also managed to find another pair of pants, sire, should you want them." I looked at the pants I had on. The legs were ragged and torn. I nodded, wondering where he had found them. I didn't think any clothing, other than what I wore, had been made after the transformation.

"Thank you, Cogsworth."

The clock stopped. "Pardon?"

I growled and took the clothes from him. "Get out."

"Yes, sire."

Once changed, I dared to look in the mirror, for once not looking for someone else. The fresh clothing helped, but I was still a hideous Beast. Disgusted, I threw the mirror down. "Who am I trying to fool?" I muttered darkly before leaving my wing.

By this time it was past dawn, and Belle was awake. I found her in the dining room, complimenting Lumière on breakfast. Lumière said something that sounded vaguely flirtatious and left the room. Belle laughed and stood, her expression changing to one of surprise when she saw me. I noticed that she wore a pale green gown instead of her blue one. In the back of my mind, I noted that she couldn't wear her blue dress.

"I didn't hear you come in," she remarked, studying me. Self-conscious, I looked towards the window.

"I walk quietly," I replied. Belle nodded, clearly wondering how someone my size managed that and where I'd gotten the shirt. There was a slightly awkward silence.

"Did I ever tell you my name?"

I jumped when Belle asked the question.

"What?"

Belle smiled slightly. "Did I ever tell you what my name was?"

I paused. "Your father called you Belle," I remembered, ignoring the hurt on her face when I mentioned the old man. "That's your name, right?"

Belle nodded. "Do you have a…" she started to ask.

"Beast," I said abruptly. Names belonged to humans, not hideous beings like me. I had been taught that names described you were; I was a Beast. Besides, I didn't know what I would do if someone called me Vincent after so long. "Just…the Beast." Belle nodded, clearly uncomfortable. I looked around the room, regretting my decision to try and talk to her. Why would she want to? I made to leave, but bumped my injured arm against a statue. I winced.

Belle came over. "Your bandages. I know it's only been a few hours, but I don't know how fast beas-um, you heal," she explained. "I'd like to check them."

I nodded and sat on one of the benches scattered around. Belle called for some extra wraps and water, and began the painful process of removing my bandages. She flinched a few times when I couldn't help crying out, but the whole procedure was relatively silent and almost unbearable.

The lack of noise driving me crazy, I spoke. "I'm…sorry…for frightening you…last night," I managed. My mouth felt like there was fur inside it as well as outside it.

Belle looked at me. "I'm sorry as well. You told me to stay out of the West Wing, and I didn't listen. Papa said-" She caught herself. "Papa says that my curiosity will eventually be the end of me. He was almost right." Belle studied the gash on my arm, washing it a bit to get the fur out. "It'll be fully healed in about a week or two," she declared, wrapping it in fresh bandages. "Do you mind if I walk around outside?"

I looked at her. "I don't care. This castle is as much your home now as it is mine," I told her. "Just stay out of-"

"The West Wing," Belle finished. "I know." She stood as several brooms swept the used bandages and water basin away. She watched them go, then muttered about how she'd never get used to that. With a quiet, "Goodbye", Belle left the room.

She spent most of the day outside, just walking around or playing in the snow with the castle hounds-turned-footstools. Mrs. Potts said she came in only once to see if there were any ice skates, and after finding them she left again.

I knew, of course. There were a lot of balconies in the castle, and I spent most of the day watching her. Mrs. Potts commented on it, but only to say it was healthier than sitting around brooding, as I usually did.

Belle fascinated me. Even as a human, I'd never spent much time with other people, let alone females close to my age. I wondered if they were all like Belle: kind, playful, and gentle.

Then I thought of the maids and knew they weren't. Belle was clearly one of a kind…

Lost in my thoughts as I was, I didn't notice Belle had seen me until I heard her voice calling my name. "Beast! Is something wrong?"

I looked down at her. She stood below, head bent upwards, her cloak whipping around her ankles in the wind. I shook my head and quickly went back inside. I avoided her the rest of the day.

For the next few days, Belle and I only saw each other around noon, when we usually ate together and she changed my bandages. She tried to make conversation, and at Mrs. Potts' urging I did my best to talk to her, but my long solitude had done nothing for my social skills. I never asked any questions or started any conversations.

Unfortunately, about a week after the wolf attack, Mrs. Potts mentioned that might be safe to take the stitches out and I should ask Belle.

"Why can't you ask her about them?" I wanted to know. Mrs. Potts sighed.

"Master, you never speak to the girl! At least attempt to be social with the girl. And I mean more than just listening to her and answering her questions," she added, seeing that I was about to protest. "Besides, you're the one with the stitches."

I hated it when she was right.

The next day, I approached Belle on her way to breakfast. She seemed surprised to see me. "Um...Belle…the rest of the wolf bites are healing, you said…and I was just thinking..." I stammered, faltering as I went. Belle looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath and tried again. "Could you take out the stitches?" I managed.

Belle nodded. "Of course. But not until after I eat breakfast, okay?" she asked. I agreed and said I would wait for her in the den.

I sat in my chair, slightly annoyed with myself. All I did was ask her to see to the stitches, and I'd acted like a child, stammering. If I couldn't ask her to do something so simple, how on earth would I break the spell?

Belle entered the den with hot water, more bandages, and a silver instrument I couldn't recognize minutes later. "I'll take out your stitches after I see to the other bites," she explained, kneeling next to me. I merely nodded.

The other wounds no longer hurt or bled, so Belle said it would be safe to leave the bandages off. Washing the few stitched wounds carefully, she warned me it was going to hurt to have them removed. "Sit still this time, please?" asked Belle, taking the silver instrument and moving to my side.

She hadn't even taken out the first stitch when I cried out in pain. "You said it'd hurt," I muttered. "You didn't say how badly it would hurt." Belle looked at me.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I'm trying, really." She sounded genuinely apologetic. I felt guilty for complaining.

"I know," I replied, abashed. "I'm just not…used to...pain." Returning to the task at hand, Belle nodded sympatheticly.

A few minutes later, she stood up. "There. Done. How does it feel?

I moved my shoulder, relieved to feel no pain. "Better," I replied. "Thank you."

Belle stopped gathering up the supplies briefly. Shrugging it off, she nodded. An uncomfortable silence settled between us. I looked at a clock, one of the normal ones, and noticed it wasn't time for lunch yet.

Be social…be social…I cleared my throat and looked back at Belle. "Would you mind…taking a walk with…me?" I managed, trying to suppress the nerves that had taken over my body.

Belle looked at me, surprised. "A walk?" she repeated. I nodded. "Well…I don't see why not. Let me just get my cloak and I'll meet you outside." I agreed and watched her run out before getting up and heading outside to wait.

Belle wasn't long in joining me. "I don't think I've seen the gardens," she mused. "Then again, I've spent most of my time outside skating. Could you show me the gardens?"

I frowned. "There's nothing there but more snow," I pointed out.

"True, but at least I'll know where they are for spring," Belle replied.

She had a point. I nodded and started off in the direction of the gardens, going slow enough so Belle didn't have to run to keep up with me.

We'd been walking for a few minutes when Belle said, seemingly to herself, "It's nice to be asked if I want to do something, not be ordered to do it."

I blushed under my fur, thinking she was talking about the first night she was here. "About your first night…"I muttered. "I'm sorry."

Belle looked up at me. "Oh, no. I wasn't thinking about that. My town's local hunter, bachelor, and braggart," she explained. "All he did was brag and hunt and chase me."

I paused. "Chase you?"

Belle nodded. "Yes. Apparently, he thought I was the perfect wife for him and didn't take 'no' for an answer. He was always coming by and pestering me, telling me I had to go with him to this tavern or the inn or someplace. Gaston never once asked me if I even wanted to do those things."

The more I heard about this Gaston, the more I wondered if I had ever been that way. "Did he ever stop?" I asked.

"Well, the day I…arrived, he'd asked me to marry him. I said no, of course. I haven't seen him since, so there hasn't been a way for him to really ask me anything more," Belle explained. "Are these the gardens?"

I looked around. I had been too busy listening to Belle to notice that we had reached the gardens. "Oh, yes," I said, opening the closed gate and standing aside to let Belle in first. "There's not much to see right now."

Belle nodded. "It's still beautiful." She looked at me expectantly. "Are you coming?"

I nodded and shut the gate. "Were all the men back in your old village like this Gaston?" I asked.

"Not really," Belle replied, looking around.

We spent the rest of the time until lunch out in the gardens. Eventually, we went in for lunch together.

"Thank you for inviting me," Belle said once we were inside. "The gardens must be lovely in the springtime."

I shrugged. I had no idea. I never went out there. "I'm…glad you liked it," I replied. Being social isn't as easy as Mrs. Potts makes it sound, I complained silently. A slightly awkward silence fell between Belle and me.

As if to dispel the silence, Mrs. Potts came in with her son Chip on a teacart. The cart stopped abruptly when Mrs. Potts noticed the snow on Belle's cloak. Mrs. Potts looked at us, an unreadable expression on her face.

"There you two are," the motherly teapot scolded. "Been looking all over for you. It's past lunchtime! Come on. I've got some soup for you in the dining room." The cart sped off, Belle and I in its wake.

Two bowls of soup sat waiting for us. "Hurry up! Don't want it getting cold, do we?" Mrs. Potts said. "Sit down, sit down."

Belle took her bowl and I moved to take mine. She didn't take the spoon that had also been brought, instead lifting it as she had that first night. "It's actually easier to drink soup without the spoon," she explained when Chip commented on it. "Your soup doesn't get cold as fast."