Summary: Marie French remembers.
Chapter 3
Marie was in her element.
She didn't want to admit it but she really had a thing for mysteries, especially mystery stories.
One of the only clear memories that she had was her reading her mother's Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew books while she was growing up. It was a secret pleasure of hers, solving crimes in novels. She loved it when she was right- which, if she remembered correctly, happened much more often than when she was wrong.
She couldn't stand the idea of solving the mystery of why she was in the asylum, she couldn't abide the idea that someone purposefully did this to her, but she had to know the secret of Mr. Gold's items.
She was sure there was something in the beautiful house that would arrest her interest.
Marie turned into the library.
Or was it a study? From the looks of things, with the mahogany desk and the dark shelves with gads of books placed on them, it could be either.
Marie preferred the idea of a library though. She could see Mr. Gold all wrapped up in some gothic novel with ghouls and spirits wandering through his home.
Maybe he even wore a Snuggie.
She giggled at the vision before glancing around the room again.
There was just so much to look at. There were mountains (cascades) of books, beautiful decorative art pieces placed precariously on the shelves, why, there was even a sorcerer's hat out of a fantasy novel perched up at the top of the bookshelf.
It was blue with the moon and stars gathered on the fabric. It was a very endearing hat. Marie itched to have it in her hands- she could just imagine the look on Mr. Gold's face if she paraded downstairs with it on.
Well, now that she thought about it she had to do it. Mr. Gold's (real) laughs were rare and precious, Marie had only seen it happen a handful of times (12 exactly) and she cherished each one. Especially when she had been the one to make it happen.
The crinkling of his eyes, the turn of his lips – that's all she could visualize as she grabbed the desk chair and placed it by the side of the bookshelf where the hat awaited.
She stepped onto the chair very carefully because she was indeed, the clumsiest girl in the world and she couldn't make Mr. Gold laugh if she was crumpled at the foot of a chair, and reached for the hat.
Marie was grateful that she was able to snatch it quickly without too much of a problem. It was soft but sort of squishy at the bottom of the hat.
Within a second of her feet padding the floor, Marie slammed the hat down on her head ready to flaunt downstairs-
Rumplestiltskin. She gagged and whimpered.
Within seconds she fell to the ground, the hat spilling off her head.
28 years, 28 years, 28 years she was in that hellhole for 28 years. The Queen. It was the Queen. The mayor-queen.
Where was she? This wasn't the Dark Castle? But Rumplestiltskin was downstairs- but that wasn't Rumplestiltskin- he didn't giggle and he wasn't yelling and-
Belle put a hand on her face- it was wet. He threw me out, she remembered, he threw me out- he was a coward-
Or was she the coward? Who was the brave and who was the coward?
Her head hurt, every part of her body wanted to die. She had to get out before she was trapped again. 28 years.
28 years of the same thing, the same place, the same people- with nothing to do but wait.
Belle vomited onto the floor. It didn't resemble the meal she had cooked earlier.
That's right, she had cooked for Goldstiltskin-Mr. Gold-Rumplestiltskin?
She had to get out. Now.
She pushed herself off the floor, ignoring the bile that continued to churn in her throat as well as the smell of sick on the carpet.
Belle blindly ran downstairs.
"Miss French? Miss French? Where are you going?" Rumplestiltskin cried out her false name as she sprinted past his hobbled leg (when was he hurt she wondered).
She shuddered to avoid sobbing and runs down the porch away from him.
Mary Margaret considered herself to be a sensible girl.
So when Marie French showed up at the door crowing about fairy tales and beasts and Rumplestiltskin, she let her in. It was better for the crazy to be contained in one place, especially the place where the Sheriff lives than it to be wandering around the streets of Storybrooke 10 o'clock at night.
Plus, Dr. Hopper, David, August, Mr. French, and Mr. Gold were all reachable by phone so if Marie did turn, well, even a little more mad, she'd have plenty of backup. Not even including Emma.
"I don't know what's happening, I just keep seeing that room. I lived in that room for 28 years. Why didn't I grow old, why haven't you grown old?" Marie was sobbing on Mary Margaret's couch as the schoolteacher patted her on the back.
"It's alright, you're out of there now," Mary Margaret soothed. It seemed like Marie was beginning to remember whatever had happened in that terrible place- although 28 years did seem like a bit of a stretch. No wonder that she hadn't been able to remember anything for so long, it was obvious she was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and that this was Marie's mind's way of coping with the issue.
Poor girl.
"Mary Margaret?" Emma opened the door with wide eyes and two bags of Chinese food, "What's going on?"
Marie wrapped her head in her hands. Mary Margaret could hear muffled tears.
"Um, well, it seems that Marie remembers more than she did a few hours ago?" she answered with a weak smile.
"Oh"
"But she also seems to remember-"
"I remember magic." The two roommates looked at the guest. She stared past at the door, eyes unblinking, "I remember ogres and a man tied together with a curse, true love's kiss, and-" Her eyes watered again, "no happily ever afters. The evil queen took care of that," she spat, showing more venom than Emma on her worst day.
It was quite an impressive feat.
Emma groaned softly before muttering, "Not more magic stuff. I just came back from talking to Henry."
Mary Margaret pursed her lips "Marie would you like us to call Dr. Hopper?"
The brunette shook her head; "He'll put me in that place again. I can't-I can't go back. I won't go back. I'll die if I go back. She'll kill me this time." Marie's hands shook and Mary Margaret grabbed one.
They were soft and clammy. She was terrified.
"Would you like us to call your father?" Mary Margaret whispered as Emma locked the door and put the food on the table.
This time the head shake was more hesitant, "No-no, I don't think so. He won't remember-" her eyes snapped open.
"Fucking Rumplestiltskin. That bastard."
Emma choked on her rice, "Wha-What?" she coughed.
"Call Mr. Gold please." A sickeningly sweet smile broke onto Marie's face.
It made Mary Margaret uneasy but she nodded at Emma to get the phone to make the call.
She knew Mr. Gold was Marie's employer but who calls their employer when they're having a mental breakdown?
He drove her home with the blessing of Sheriff Swan and Snow White.
He was glad that she was safe. But he didn't like what he was seeing.
Tearstains were never a good sign on Belle's face.
He had seen her cry before, although she always tried to hide it, but this was the first time here that he had seen tears on her face.
How she managed to look so beautiful when crying still amazed him.
When he had gotten the phone call from Emma, he had been driving around everywhere looking for her.
He still wasn't sure what exactly drove her to this- he wasn't sure if he wanted to know honestly- when Emma called him she sounded perturbed by Belle's behavior, but when he arrived everything seemed perfectly fine.
Other than the tear streaks that were on Belle's face, everything was peachy-keen.
Snow had handed Belle to him as if she were a rag doll. She didn't seem capable of speech, so he just took Belle's hand without a word.
Emma had come downstairs with him and helped him get Belle in the car. When the door had shut, she spoke.
"She's mad Gold."
He smiled, "Mad as in crazy or mad as in angry, Sheriff?"
Her shoulders shook, "I don't know," she admitted, "Possibly both. Possibly neither. But she was saying things-"
Her eyes were cloudy and Gold felt a prickle of unease cross his chest.
Belle had run out crying.
Did she remember?
He couldn't imagine what would make her remember in that stuffy library. The only thing he thought would do it was the chipped cup but that did nothing but break his heart again.
He shook off his thoughts and looked into the car. Belle was sitting there. Just sitting patiently waiting for him.
She had waited long enough, "Sheriff, while I appreciate your worry, I'll make sure I get her home safe and sound-"
"Good. I'll be calling Moe French as soon as you leave. He should know the situation." She waited as if she expected him to protest.
He smiled instead, "Be sure to give him my regards."
"I won't need to. Because you'll be able to do that yourself when you take her home." The Sheriff's voice was sharp and he grimaced. The damned savior caught on too fast.
He wanted to talk to Belle privately before letting her go out to her pathetic father. He wanted to know what exactly caused this change in demeanor.
He knew it was the Curse, but what exactly did it to do her?
"Just to let you know Gold, I think you had something to do with this-"
"Well, she was at my home when she started her breakdown, but we can talk about that later Sheriff." His smile widened, as soon as you break the curse.
She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. Rumplestiltskin took that as a go ahead and limped over to the other side of his car.
Damn meddling Sheriff.
"Mr. Gold," Belle's voice broke into his thoughts.
He slowed down so he could look at her better. He expected her to look sad and upset as she did when he stole a peek before- he was half-hoping that he'd be able to comfort her, petting her hair, holding her close, never letting her go-
These thoughts died when she stared at him with an inferno in her eyes.
Perhaps she was mad, "What is it dearie?" he rasped.
"That's not your true name."
Her eyes were accusing.
Rumplestiltskin's voice died.
She remembered.
And just like his worst nightmares- she was angry.
Rightfully so but still, he hoped that she would love him still, that she'd kiss him when she remembered. He hoped and hoped despite knowing that no woman would forgive him for what he did.
Not even perfect, beautiful Belle.
"You left me to rot with the mayor-queen. For 28 years," her voice shattered, "possibly even longer- I just can't, I can't remember everything, but then I can remember everything- every last moment in there, in that little grey room forever alone with everything being the same every day-"
She was crying. Rumplestiltskin pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.
They were in the middle of nowhere. That was probably for the best.
The last time someone remembered they ended up dead.
She choked on her sobs. He wanted to hold her but he kept his hands on the wheel.
"28 years alone with nothing-"
"Belle," he started and that seemed to rouse her.
"And you," she spat, "You remembered this whole time. You made me work for you again- you didn't have enough slavery the first time?"
He was at a loss as she continued her assault, "I took care of you again, you made me reenact everything it seems, and I even broke that awful cup again- that you kept through worlds and-"
Belle was cut short as he grabbed her hands, "Belle you are everything to me, I didn't want you to get hurt, I thought-"
She wasn't listening, "You beat my father over that cup? That stupid cup that I shattered and you did nothing about it? You beat my father over it?" she shrieked before wrenching her hands away from him.
He reached to hold her but was swiftly punched in the gut.
Despite being so lithe, she definitely had some fight in her.
"You bastard. You beat my father over the 'it's just a cup dearie'" she mimicked.
"I thought he drove you to suicide," he protested. She slapped him.
"If you knew me at all, you know I would never kill myself. No matter how bad things get. I couldn't do it. I'm too much of a damned optimist."
Somewhere in Rumplestiltskin's twisted brain a part of him was amused to see how disgusted she looked about being an optimist.
"You're right- I should've known that. But the Queen said-"
She laughed. It rang hollow, "The Queen. The Queen. You believed the Queen? Despite her being the one to 'put me up to it'. You believed her?"
He nodded ashamed, "I looked for you, but I couldn't sense you anywhere-"
"I was with her, in a tower, with no one to speak to. I wasn't allowed to be brave there."
Neither of them spoke. Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure what else to say. What did you say to the person you loved?
Belle was the first one to break the silence, "Why did you bring me back into your life- when you found out I was alive?"
He closed his eyes, waiting for another punch or slap, "Because I love you."
"But you didn't do anything- my other self, Marie, she was in love with you-"
"Part of the curse, dear. You are drawn to the people you loved before."
"Why do you remember?"
He knew he was going to get slapped for this one, "It's my curse."
His cheek didn't sting as much as he thought it would, for which he was grateful.
"You bloody coward. Why would you create a curse like this? Why did you enact it?" Her pretty little mouth was agape.
"Be careful dear, or you'll catch some flies." She closed her mouth with an annoyed look on her face.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I didn't enact it. As for my reasons for creating the curse, I had nothing to lose." You were gone, Baelfire was gone, he wanted to say but withheld it.
"But, but why?"
"You're still much too kind Belle. Why would an old monster create an evil curse, you wonder, when the better question would be why not?"
She stared at him, her eyes searching his.
He waited for her to say, "You're no monster," but it didn't happen.
She had changed. For the wiser. She knew the truth now.
"Take me home." She sounded tired.
He watched as she turned away from him.
And then he drove her home.