A/N: I keep forgetting to put this buuuuuut kinda don't want to get sued. I do not own Once Upon a Time or the genius that is Plunkett and Macleane.

Chapter 8:

Belle sat in front of the fire, her dress pooled around her in a blue silk so clear the flames made it look as if she were sitting on the glassy surface of a lake. A book was open in her lap and a trundle of hair had escaped the loose mess tied at her neck and now hung by the side of her face. She reached up gracefully and tucked it behind her ear and was so immersed in her story that she didn't hear Plunkett as he climbed the rose trellis and sat on her windowsill simply watching her. He had made more noise than normal due to the pain now in his left shoulder but he managed just fine, knowing that his prize was the beauty sitting on the floor only a few feet in front of him.

"My, my, my…" he said softly and smiled as she jumped and looked up.

Her head turned quickly to the window and her smile could have lit an entire London street. "Will!" she whispered as she slammed her book shut and placed it on the ground, before getting up and running to the window. They had seen one another almost every day for the past two weeks and yet every time she laid eyes on him she acted as if it had been years; he couldn't help but feel his ego swell just a little at the fact that he could bring her happiness of any kind.

"You're late." She said as she stopped in front of him and gave him a very coy look.

He smirked back and took her chin in his hand and said gently, "Sorry love, forgive me?"

She leaned in and whispered, "You're lucky you're handsome," before closing the gap and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and as he tried to return the favor, he let out a hiss against her lips. Belle recoiled and held him at arm's length; her eyes quickly scanning his body for signs of his discomfort and her gaze landed on his torn sleeve that revealed his now bandaged shoulder.

"Will…" she whispered softly as he allowed her to drag him to the chair by the fire so she could look at him by the light.

"It's nothing. I promise. Please, stop, look…" he couldn't complete a full sentence as she moved the shirt and inspected the gauze, mumbling rapid incoherent phrases of half-hearted chastisement. She started undoing the buttons and he stilled her hands. Macleane had already patched him up; he wanted nothing more than to forget about the earlier part of the evening. "Belle." He said firmly, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes. He softened his expression as she quieted, only to have it turn to one of curiosity as the fire also gave light to her own face.

Crystal blue eyes were incased in puffy lids and cheeks that were slightly red when he had expected perfect pigments of porcelain. Slight tension lines were drawn across her forehead and her braid that was always perfect in his presence was tossed into a bun at the nape of her neck. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Belle what is it?" he tucked a few curls behind her ear and she closed her eyes and leaned into the palm of his hand.

"Nothing. I promise." She whispered as he held her face and the both of them feigned perfect bliss so they could fawn over the injuries of the other. After Gaston had left that morning, Belle had locked the door and never left. For hours she sat staring into the empty fireplace, unable to read, unable to do anything but just be. Today the brave woman she had always aspired to be was nowhere to be found, and she hated herself for it.

Plunkett let it go, but it was not easy. She was in pain and he saw it but she wasn't ready to let him in as to what the cause of her misery was. He did the only thing he could and he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers softly. Once, twice, three times, he left small, slow pips of affection against her mouth while he held her cheek in his hand. Eventually she smiled and allowed her whole body to give a sigh.

"Don't think that gets you off the hook," she said softly. "Tell me what happened." Tapping his bandage, she placed her hands on his thighs and kneeled in front of him. Plunkett leaned back with a small smile and put his left hand over hers, propping his head up with the right. He could lie. Try and play it off as an accident, a scuffle between him and Macleane. But his Belle was no fool and to lie over something this inconsequential would be an insult to her intelligence.

"Tonight, when Macleane and I where," he paused, "…out, a bullet grazed me." Her eyes grew wide and she went to her knees in a straighter position and he added quickly, "It's alright. I promise. Just a scratch."

A playful smile broke across his lips and fell once Belle's expression remained the same. She was not amused and remained silent for a few moments before reaching up and moving his torn sleeve to the side.

"You were out on another robbery." It wasn't a question; they both knew the truth.

Plunkett nodded but otherwise remained silent. He waited for the scolding that he thought was coming but instead she placed her head on his knee and sighed quietly, closing her eyes. Belle knew that she loathed anyone who tried to tell her what she shouldn't do. As much as she cared about William's well being, she couldn't make demands of him and his profession, not just yet.

Her silence confused Plunkett. He expected anger, tears, anything. But like always the woman with her head now in his lap was rational and loving and he wished he could take a peek inside that brilliant mind of hers. Placing his hand gently on her hair, he stroked the satin of her curls under the smooth calluses of his fingertips.

"I-it won't be forever you know?" he filled the silence with words more for his own reassurance than hers. "Macleane and I are so close. A few more jobs and we will have enough money for the America's."

"America?" she raised her head and looked at him.

"Yes. It's beautiful Belle. Rolling green hills and the sea and every man will get the chance he deserves. There will be towns, big and small and farms and-…" he stopped as he saw the smile that had broken out over her face. "What?" he asked.

She smiled and shook her head, "That is what you really desire isn't it?"

He nodded and sighed, looking down into his lap and closing his eyes. "More than anything." He said quietly.

Were she to deny that that statement did not make her chest hurt, Belle would have been lying to herself. Plunkett had a dream, an ambition and she admired that. In times like these without dreams, one had nothing, but his big dream of this new land left Belle feeling like she had no place in it. Biting her lip, she stood gently and crossed her arms under her breasts, walking away.

Plunkett felt the absence of her presence and his eyes opened quickly. He stood and couldn't take it any longer, she was acting so strange.

"Belle, please. What is it?" He stayed where he was, draping his tan frock coat on the settee at the foot of the bed before dropping his hands to his sides. He stared at her in confusion. This side of his beautiful Belle was new territory, she looked so sad and it made his heart ache for whatever pain she was feeling. Her eyes were now a dull cerulean instead of their normal ocean blue and Plunkett wanted more than anything to hold her and kiss away that haunting look.

Belle stood by the head of her bed and looked into the light of the candle. She was silent. Silent for so long Plunkett debated on whether or not he should prompt her again. The flame flickered softly as a breeze from the window blew into the room and Belle cupped her hand around the warmth before trickling her fingers through the orange diamond as she spoke quietly.

"Do you remember the night I found you in the bar?"

Plunkett nodded but said nothing.

She glanced back at him to see him nod before turning her attention back to the candle. "I said I was running away from my betrothed." She laughed bitterly at the word, thinking that it fit Gaston better than any other she could have chosen. Fiancée indicated love, betrothed indicated no other choice. "As much as you try, you cannot run forever. Whatever you're running from will find you in the end."

"You mean he came back?" Plunkett had never met the man and yet he felt his fists clenched in anger. She didn't appear to be harmed, not physically at least, but there were other harms that could be inflicted, harms that were not always visible.

Belle nodded. "And he's going to murder my father, unless…" She surprised even herself at how calmly that phrase left her lips. But then again it was easy to accept your fate when you were out of options. "Unless I marry him."

"Belle he can't do that." He all but blurted as soon as she had finished her own sentence. Plunkett shook his head and strode across the room to her side. He couldn't believe it, he refused to believe it. He couldn't accept this and he wasn't about to let her except it either.

"He can Plunkett." She turned to him and held her head high and had he not been standing so close, he would never have noticed the edges of her eyelids filling with unshed tears. "He can and he will. You were right. The inner circle of the city is a nasty place. You either play dirty or become trampled by the gilded carriages."

Plunkett was speechless. His Belle was not allowed to say such things. His Belle was not allowed to be so jaded. His Belle was the one flickering light that could never be extinguished in the storm of his heart. Plunkett wasn't sure when she became his Belle, but all he knew was that he wasn't going down without a fight. She looked up at him, raising her hand, she cupped his cheek and gave him the only smile she could muster and it was a poor excuse for the one he deserved. She was younger but at this point she felt like the age of her soul was weighing her down. However, just because her story was ending didn't mean that Plunkett's was. She found a minute sense of happiness in knowing that her William could live out his dream in America, even if it meant leaving her behind.

"When you finally get your adventure, try not to forget about us here in little old London." She tried to smile again but failed miserably when her voice cracked at the end, betraying her emotions. It had been too good to be true and like a foolish girl she had believed. Believed that William could be her salvation or that he would even want to. In the end he was going to leave, just like her mother, and now her father and she was going to be the dutiful wife that she was born to be. At the thought, tears resurfaced in her eyes and she moved to her window, staring out into the darkness and wrapping her arms around herself.

Plunkett's mouth fell open as he watched her. His words of America seemed to break her, even before she told him about her dilemma, was it possible that she wanted him to stay? Or was it possible that she wanted to accompany him? Surely not. But if she did…if she would agree in coming with him then all his fears and doubts that Macleane had addressed earlier that very evening were for nothing. He could get her out. Out of London, out of her engagement, simply, out. She had rescued him from a certain kind of darkness and now was his chance to rescue her.

"He can't marry you if he can't find you." Plunkett said quietly as he remained standing at the foot of the bed.

"What?" she whispered as her bottom lip trembled slightly.

"And it would be even harder if you were separated by an ocean."

She snapped her head up, eyes wide with hope. "You don't mean-…"

"I do." He nodded. "Come with me."

She shook her head and couldn't help it as the first real tear slid down her cheek. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that the thing she wanted most without realizing it was being laid at her feet and she couldn't accept it. Oh it would work, if Plunkett really meant what he said, the plan of putting an entire ocean between them would save her from Gaston but there was still one problem.

"Plunkett I can't. M-my father. What about my father?" she wiped away the damp trails of her tear from her face hastily and looked at him.

From what he had gathered, her father had been absent from the whole ordeal. No respecting man would allow his daughter to be submitted to such treatment. As far as he thought, her father could go to hell. But the look in Belle's eyes told him that she would never abandon the only family she had left. William shook his head and hooked his thumbs in the edge of his belt confidently. "I'll figure it out. We will figure it out." He corrected. "There has to be a way." He paused, "Hell, I'll bring him with us." Chuckling after he finished his last thought he gave her a wide smile and gentle eyes, anything to change her mood. Plunkett was confident in his abilities when it came to scheming; all he needed was for her to trust him. However, Belle was torn. If she gave in to the hope that he could help her it was liable to go astray but then again if she didn't, what did she have left? Nothing.

She stared at him in disbelief, so young, so beautiful and yet so jaded. William didn't like the idea of someone so beautiful inside and out allowing the world to jade them. He wouldn't stand for it. Not if he could do something about it. Letting his smile fall, he looked at her gently, his entire tone changing as he whispered trying hard not to go to his knees and plead with her.

"Come to America. Let me steal you away. Belle-…"

"Yes." She cut him off and left her place by the window to return and stand in front of him. "Yes. Yes. William." With each word she drew closer and eventually he stopped her speech all together by seizing her mouth with his and scooping her up into his arms. That was what he wanted. No, what he needed. Belle trusted him to do this for her and he would be damned if he failed.

They tumbled onto the bed and continued their devouring of each other and Plunkett forced himself to pull up on the reigns. He took her hands and placed them on his shoulders after he thoroughly kissed both of her palms. She sighed as he leaned down and nuzzled her head up, planting chaste whispers against her neck. The thing he treasured most in all of London was coming with him to the new world. Plunkett felt as if his heart was going to burst from his chest. She carded her fingers through his hair and smiled for real this time. Shutting her eyes tightly she willed herself to shed no more tears, too many had fallen today and now that everything was going to be alright there was no point in allowing any more.

"William…" Belle whispered. He looked up and she continued, "Will you stay? Tonight I mean. We…we could read more." She added the last apprehensively. As much as she valued William and knew he was slowly wrapping his firm hands around her heart, she hopped he would understand her wishes.

The edges of his mouth tilted up in delight at the proposition. "Whatever you'd like M'lady…"

Belle smiled more and turned on her side, burying her cheek against his chest and letting out a soft hum of contentment as he wrapped his arms around her back tightly. Plunkett reached over and grabbed a thin, well worn copy of one of Belle's favorite books from off of the dresser and rolled back over. She took it gently and allowed him to kick off his boots and pull his vest over his head before reclaiming his spot by her side. In that moment something changed. As she began to read softly and Plunkett continued his gentle nosing of her neck and squeezed her tightly with each kiss of her earlobe, something had shifted in the air. In that moment everything was going to be alright. In that moment they both could honestly believe that each could have what they desired.

A/N: Whoops I made angst. haha I really liked this chapter and hope you guys did too. Thanks for all the reads and those of you who have commented, thank you times a million. Review if you wish and Chapter 9 should be out soon.