Title: Of Dreams and Awakenings
Rating: T
Word count: ~51k
Characters: Belle/Isabelle French, Mr Gold/Rumplestiltskin, Mary Margaret, Emma Swan, Archie Hopper, Henry Mills, Regina Mills, Moe French, various other Storybrooke characters.
Pairing: Belle/Rumplstiltskin (Isabelle/Mr Gold)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise from 'Once Upon A Time' does not belong to me.
"The Mayor's opening up the library," Emma announces at supper one day. Isabelle glances up from her food, eyes wide. Mary Margaret is just as shocked.
"Really?" she says. "The library's been shut for years. I can barely remember it being closed." She frowns, thoughtful. "It's odd, really. The town's definitely big enough to need one."
"Who knows why Regina does what she does?" says Emma, with an expressive roll of her eyes. "She made the announcement this afternoon. Apparently she's getting contractors in to gut the building and start over from scratch."
"Well, she never does anything by halves," says Mary Margaret.
"Does – does she have a librarian yet?" Isabelle asks, and her two friends exchange a glance. Isabelle forces herself to shrug, lowers her gaze. "Dr Hopper and I have been talking," she says. "He wants me to think about getting a job. You know, so I keep working on getting back to normal." It's been three days since Archie suggested it, but she's not brought the topic up with Emma or Mary Margaret yet. It's taken her this long to get used to even the idea of pushing herself in that way.
"That…sounds great," says Emma slowly. "But...you can barely manage to walk past a busy store, let alone –"
"Emma," hisses Mary Margaret, and she turns a wide smile on Isabelle. "I think it's a great idea," she says. "You know so much about books, and you love reading. It's always good to be working at something you love."
"Yeah," says Isabelle, and she tries to smile back at her friend. "And…I mean, it'd be quiet. Not like working in a store."
"Exactly," says Mary Margaret. "I think it would really suit you, actually."
"There's just one problem," Emma points out then. "Regina." Isabelle's smile fades at once, and she shivers. Emma is sympathetic, reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. "She's the Mayor," she reminds Isabelle. "She's the one who'll decide who gets hired."
Isabelle nods, shivers again, feels that momentary burst of happiness falling away like sand through her fingers. There is no way Regina Mills will ever hire her, she thinks. There isn't even any point in applying – because even if the Mayor does allow her an interview, Isabelle doesn't think she's brave enough to face her.
"She can't do anything to you," Emma reminds her. "Legally she doesn't have a leg to stand on and she knows it. If she tries anything, we've got Archie on our side."
"Legalities didn't stop her last time," Isabelle snaps. Emma pulls back a little, stung, and Isabelle lowers her head. "Sorry," she whispers. "I just…she…"
"Don't apologise," Mary Margaret says. "You're right. Legalities didn't stop her. But things are different now." Isabelle nods slowly. Yes, things are different now, but that doesn't stop her being afraid.
Nine weeks can't erase ten years. Isabelle thinks she'll be afraid for the rest of her life, although Archie assures her that eventually the fear will fade. Eventually she will be able to walk past the hospital. Eventually.
"What objections could Regina have?" Mary Margaret asks then, trying for optimistic and not quite achieving it. "Isabelle's not crazy, no matter what the Mayor wants to think. She's not got a criminal record." She turns to Isabelle. "We could help you with the application, at least." She smiles softly. "If you don't try, you'll never know."
"I suppose," Isabelle whispers. "But even if the application is accepted, I'd still have to have an interview, right?"
"One step at a time," Emma advises. "I'll swing by her office tomorrow and pick up the form for you."
"Thanks," says Isabelle, trying to push away the fear. She picks up her fork, realises she isn't hungry now, puts it down again. "I think I might go for a walk," she decides. "I'm really not hungry."
"Isabelle, you have to eat," Mary Margaret says, the rebuke softened by her obvious worry. Isabelle knows why; knows she isn't really eating enough. It's hard, though. For so long she ate what she was given, when she was given it. It's hard to remember to be hungry, hard to have the freedom to eat what she wants, when she wants it.
She thinks Archie is a little worried about it. She knows she's lost weight since coming out of the hospital. The clothes Emma and Mary Margaret bought her have become loose; she needs a belt to hold her jeans up.
"I'm really not hungry," she claims, and it's true. "I'll have something later."
"Are you sure you want to go for a walk?" Emma asks then, and she's worried too, but for a different reason. "It's going to be dark soon."
Isabelle manages a smile, genuine and heartfelt. Her friends have known her for such a short time, but they care so much.
"Dr Hopper wants me to step out of my comfort zone," she says. "I won't go far. But it's such a nice evening."
She collects a jacket from her room, feels her friends watching her as she leaves the apartment. There's some part of her that feels a little stifled by it, but it's a new feeling, and she revels in it – in the idea that she wants more freedom, and in the fact that they watch because they care, rather than because they think she's dangerous.
The air is warm, fragrant, and Isabelle wanders along the streets slowly, keeps her head up and tries to let go of her anxiety. She tries to dwell on the enjoyment of the evening, rather than the worry about who she might meet.
Her feet lead her towards Granny's, and she stands on the pavement, looks at the café. The bright lights, the laughing people inside. Not today, she thinks. But some day.
"Miss French. What a surprise to see you out and about."
Shivers running down her spine, panic drying out her mouth, Isabelle turns to see Mayor Mills, trailed by her son Henry. He's holding an ice cream, concentrating more on that than on anything else. An evening treat, Isabelle judges, although the idea of Regina Mills doing anything nice for anybody is hard to grasp.
"How are you feeling?" the Mayor asks, all politeness and concern on the surface and barbed wire hidden beneath. Isabelle can't speak, can't summon the bravery to combat this woman. Henry has stopped eating his ice cream, is watching her with wide eyes. He knows she's afraid of his mother. "Aren't you going to answer me, dear?" the Mayor quizzes. "I see Dr Hopper has been exaggerating your progress a little."
"Regina," comes a voice from behind Isabelle. "What a pleasant surprise. And young Henry." Isabelle turns, finds Mr Gold standing just behind her, leaning on his cane and something vicious hidden behind his eyes as he looks at Regina. Something dangerous. And yet, standing between the two most dangerous people in Storybrooke, Isabelle knows which one she would choose.
"Mr Gold," says the Mayor, a sour note in her voice. "You're not usually around at this hour."
"Well, Miss French and I are going to have a cup of coffee," he says, smooth as silk, and he glances at Isabelle briefly. She doesn't protest, doesn't argue with him – she thinks she'd agree to anything if it means she doesn't have to speak to Regina. "Sorry I'm late," he says to her, building the deceit. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"No," Isabelle manages, clears her throat, shakes her head. "No, not long."
"Mom, can I have another ice cream?" Henry chimes in then, and Regina's attention is distracted; she frowns down at her son.
"Of course not," she snaps. "Don't push your luck, Henry. Come on, it's nearly your bedtime." She takes his hand, almost drags him away; Henry glances back at her, gives her a wide grin, and Isabelle nods her thanks. Then she turns to Mr Gold, finds him watching her.
"Thank you," she says.
"Not a problem," he says, and amusement lingers in the corners of his face, but not directed at her. There's enmity between him and the Mayor, Isabelle knows, and she thinks he'll take any opportunity to thwart her. "Believe me," he continues, confirming her thoughts, "I'm quite happy to interfere with anything Regina wants to meddle with." He smiles, and Isabelle finds herself smiling back. She's not sure what it is about this man, but he makes her feel comfortable in a way only Henry has managed so far.
"I wish I knew what she wants with me," she says, almost without realising it. Mr Gold tilts his head enquiringly, silent encouragement for her to continue. Isabelle shrugs, drops her gaze. "I guess you know she was the reason I got…"
"Locked up?" he suggests. Not committed, not institutionalised – which is what everyone else says, or doesn't say. Locked up.
It's the truth; she was locked up. And Isabelle has no idea why, no idea what she'd done to the Mayor to deserve it.
She was seventeen when her father allowed Regina Mills to lock her up. She's twenty-seven now. Ten years of her life, wasted and lost, and she doesn't know why.
"Yes," she says tightly. "Locked up." Mr Gold nods, looks at her for a moment longer and then nods his head at the café.
"The invitation stands," he says. "Coffee?"
Isabelle hesitates, puts her hands in her pocket to keep from fidgeting. "I shouldn't have caffeine this late," she says. Mr Gold nods, looks almost resigned, as if he'd expected the refusal. Isabelle glances at the café, thinks about stepping outside her comfort zone. Thinks about all the people in there, the bright lights and the stares she will inevitably attract.
Looks back at Mr Gold, thinks about the expression on his face as he'd saved her from Regina.
"But…something else, maybe?" she says slowly, hesitantly, and Mr Gold nods, smiles just a little.
"I'm told Granny's hot chocolate is excellent," he says. "And perhaps a slice of cake?" He looks her over, lips pursed together for a moment, and Isabelle is suddenly acutely aware of how thin she has become.
"Yes," she says. "I'd like that."
"Lead the way, then," he says, holding out a hand in invitation. Isabelle seizes her courage and walks into the café, Mr Gold at her back.