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.
"So how's it going at the library?" Archie asks her, and Isabelle grins.
"Really good," she says. "I mean, I know it's only been a week, but I'm really enjoying it."
"Good," says Archie, genuinely pleased for her, his smile wide. "So tell me about it."
"Well, it's mostly pretty quiet," says Isabelle. "I think it'll probably get busier as people realise it's open, you know? It's been closed so long. But there's usually half a dozen people a day, more or less. And on Saturday morning, Mary Margaret and I have set up a children's reading session." She likes that best, she's decided. There weren't many kids, on the first Saturday, but Mary Margaret had been brilliant. She'd brought props, and got the children to help act out the story.
"How are you coping with the interactions?" Archie inquires. "I know you were worried about that."
"Yeah." Isabelle tilts her head, thinks about the past week. "Sometimes it's hard," she has to admit. "Some people…" She makes a face. "It feels like the only reason they've come in is to stare," she tries to explain. "They wander about but I can feel them watching me. Like I'm going to suddenly do something crazy."
Archie's smile is sympathetic. "People will think what they want to think," he says. "I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but you know you're not crazy."
"Yeah," says Isabelle, and hopes he doesn't notice her slight hesitation. She's not crazy – not clinically insane – but there have been things...
Things that make her wonder. Things that unnerve her. Henry's book, the picture that had seemed so familiar. The occasional feeling, when she looks at someone, that she knows them from somewhere else.
It's intensified with Mr Gold, more…more real, somehow. She looks at him and she knows him – and yet it isn't his face that's familiar, she thinks, it's something deeper than that.
She hasn't seen him since that night he invited her to supper. He hasn't come by the library, and she's honestly been so tired with her new job that she hasn't been able to go to see him. Her one day off, Sunday, had been spent crashed out on the sofa watching movies with Emma.
"Some people are really great, though," she says, pushing aside thoughts of Mr Gold for now. "There've been several who've said how glad they are the library's open again."
"That's good," says Archie.
"I think I'm doing alright," Isabelle says, shrugging. "I haven't…had any urges to run and hide, or anything. It's a nice building, I think that helps. Lots of windows." She likes windows, likes natural light. Artificial light and rooms without windows make her feel trapped, make the past bleed into the present. In the early days, three months ago, she'd been known to refuse to step into a room that's too small, too dark. She still struggles with the bathroom at the apartment sometimes, especially at night.
"But I've been having nightmares again," she has to admit. Archie nods, waits for her to go on, and Isabelle shrugs her shoulders, bites her lip for a moment. "Not…not every night," she says, "but more than I was. I guess every few nights."
"Are they always the same?" Archie asks her, and Isabelle nods. It's always the same dream, with very little variation. She's always trapped and she's always screaming but nobody ever hears, nobody cares.
Sometimes somebody's hurting her, somebody unseen.
She doesn't always wake up screaming, but often enough that she's taken to keeping throat sweets by her bed. Emma and Mary Margaret don't usually come through to her anymore – she's fairly sure they've got used to it, fairly sure they're basically sleeping through it now. She doesn't mind, hates the thought of disturbing their sleep.
"Always the same," she whispers. "I'm stuck there and I can't get out."
"But you are out, Isabelle," he reminds her.
"Yeah, I…I know that," she says, but she can't look at him. "I just…sometimes…"
"Are you still afraid somebody will send you back there?" Archie asks, and Isabelle closes her eyes, gives a brief nod. Of course she's afraid; three months is nothing, it's nothing compared to the ten long years of her incarceration. Archie doesn't speak for a minute, and Isabelle clasps her hands tightly together. "Have you had any more encounters with the Mayor?" he asks eventually.
"No," says Isabelle, and she's thankful for it. Every day she's expected Regina to waltz into the library and find some fault, find some excuse to fire her at the very least.
But…but she remembers what Mr Gold had said, that night in his home. 'She won't get you', he'd said. Between him and Archie, she does feel a little safer, a little more secure. Part of it is probably due to how little she's seen Regina, and her father, but not all.
A little safer, but somehow no less afraid.
"It's not wrong, to still be scared," Archie tells her. "Nothing you're feeling is wrong, Isabelle." He often says that, that her feelings are valid, that everything she's thinking and feeling is understandable and acceptable. It usually helps, usually reminds her that she's okay, she's doing fine. But today isn't one of those days, today it just makes her feel...
"I'm tired of being afraid," she says, opening her eyes again, the words spilling out from her mouth so quickly she's not sure he'll be able to understand. "I can't stop but I'm so sick of it. I want to be able to walk down the street without being afraid somebody's going to jump on me and stick me full of drugs and take me back there!"
She's almost panting when she finishes, lifts her hands to cover her face. Archie is silent for long moments, lets her regain her composure.
"I just want it to stop," she says at last. "I just want it to be gone."
"Do you think it ever will be entirely gone?" Archie asks, and Isabelle shakes her head. No, it will always be there, a knife in her heart, twisting until she can't bear it any longer. Archie nods, considers his words. Isabelle lowers her hands to her lap, bites her lip. She's pretty sure she knows what he's going to ask next, and she has thought about it, but she doesn't think she has an answer for him.
"Have you thought about your father?" he asks her, and Isabelle nods.
"I don't know," she says. "I think…I think maybe…" She shrugs, can't meet his eyes. "I guess some of both," she whispers.
"Okay," says Archie, nodding. "That's good, Isabelle. It's good to recognise how you're feeling. And of course it's complicated. Humans are complicated." Isabelle nods miserably; it might be good to recognise how she's feeling, but it doesn't feel any better than before. "Do you think," Archie says then, "that you'll stop being afraid if you don't confront him?"
Isabelle shivers. "I can't," she says. "I – I just can't."
"I'm not asking you to," says Archie quickly. "I'm not even suggesting it. I'm just asking the question."
That eases her worry, and Isabelle leans back, considers the question. Can she ever stop being afraid, she asks herself, if she doesn't confront her father with what he'd done? How he'd hurt her? Possibly not. And yet the very thought of it makes her want to run, makes her want to find somewhere or someone to keep her safe.
She thinks, for a moment, of Mr Gold. Just for a moment, just long enough to be aware that she seems to think of him as safe. Emma would berate her for it, she knows, and certainly Emma is just as determined as he to keep her safe. And yet…
"No," she says eventually. "No, I won't. But…I just can't, Dr Hopper. At least…not yet." She hugs herself, glances up at him. "You're right," she says. "It's not going to go away if I can't face him. If I can be brave enough to do that…but I can't."
"Not yet, perhaps," Archie says with a slight smile. "But I think you underestimate yourself, Isabelle. Remember how you were three months ago. You're doing things now that you would have been too scared to do then."
Isabelle nods; he's right, of course. There is so much she does now without that constant, nagging fear spoiling her enjoyment of it. She is working, which was something she'd never thought she'd be able to do. She's got friends, and she's slowly becoming able to go into public, crowded spaces. Not often, but sometimes. She can sleep in the dark and she can, sometimes, walk down the street with her head held high.
She is attracted to someone, and that's a milestone she's cradling close to her for now. Nothing has happened, and perhaps nothing will happen, but it's a warm flame in her heart, burning back the terror and the anxiety when she thinks of it.
"You're right," she says. "I'm a lot less scared than I was. But I'm not really sure that's saying much."
"You're not letting the fear stop you, though," Archie points out. "Okay, maybe in some things," he concedes when she looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "But a lot less than you were. You're not letting fear paralyse you anymore. I really can't tell you enough how good it is that you're able to cope with working."
Isabelle manages a small, proud smile. "I never thought it would happen," she admits.
"You're braver than you think you are, Isabelle."
"Mr Gold said that, too," says Isabelle, without thinking, and feels her cheeks heat as Archie looks at her inquiringly. "Um. That time we were in Granny's," she says, fumbling for the right words.
Archie nods slowly. "Yes, I was going to ask if you'd seen him again," he says. "You seemed to like him."
"Yeah." Isabelle twists her hands together, drops her gaze. "He invited me to supper, a few weeks back," she says after a moment. She doesn't look up, doesn't want to see Archie's surprise. "He's…I know what people say about him, and I'm sure they're right. But he's not like that with me."
"Well," says Archie after a moment, "on one thing, at least, I'm in agreement with him. You really are much braver than you give yourself credit for, Isabelle." He glances up at the clock on the wall, turns back to her. "I'm afraid time's up," he says. "I'll try to come and see you at the library this week. It'll be good to see my star patient in action."
Isabelle has to laugh at that; she wouldn't describe herself as a star anything, but she knows Archie means it. He's so proud of how far she's come, and the pride is a little infectious – it gives her a little more confidence every time he reminds her how much she's accomplished in what's really not very long.
"Alright," she says. "I'll look forward to it. I'll find a really good book for you."