Disclaimer: I still own none of these worlds or characters. I have maybe two dollars to my name.

Note from the Beta: Whatever, you probably have more money then I have in my wallet right now...

Belle spent a sleepless night outside the doorway to the bedroom. She didn't want to go in; it seemed forbidden, the whole house did. The lights stayed on. She didn't want to be in the dark anymore. Sleep wouldn't have come anyway, so she sat up against the door, counting the imperfections on the walls and ceiling. How had she not noticed them before? The house seemed so perfect when she'd first moved in. It was a labyrinth of antiques, trinkets, and books. But she was happier then.

Blinded by happiness. Or love. Or both. All the signs were there. Just a few hours ago, she still thought she had her dreams. She could've one day been a hero, at least to the one person who mattered. She would help Rumple as he tried to change his ways. Even though it didn't require much in the way of bravery or heroism, it was something she thought she could do.

But the dark one had lied. The whole marriage - her entire happy ending - had been a lie. She'd fallen for his grand illusion.

Perhaps he wasn't entirely to blame. She'd made it her goal to help Rumple, and she'd failed. How many times had Snow or Charming failed? Even Regina was a hero now. Heroes didn't fail. She was never a hero, only a silly, daydreaming girl.

What was there for her now?

When the clock struck five, Belle was gone. Rather than wait for daylight, she opted to leave the dusty old house. The shop, however, would stay closed for the day, and the car would remain as well; both reminded her of how much she had failed. Instead, she journeyed on foot to the library. Surely the shelves needed to be reorganized. Belle would do as she'd done back when she'd traded herself to a stranger - pour herself into her work to forget her troubles.

Belle tiptoed through the square, strangely wary of waking the sleepy town. She pulled the old key from her purse, and when the lock clicked, she nearly flung herself past the threshold. The door shut behind the weight of her body, and she held onto the door frame for a few moments, eyes closed and breathing deep. This was her sanctuary. Here, the outside world no longer existed, and nothing could touch her. She clicked on the light, and got busy.

Histories had been misplaced, volumes out of order, bindings broken, and checkouts overdue. Since when had her library ever been sub par? She didn't recall things being so messy. Eventually, light shone through the windows of the building, but she hardly noticed. And so dawn became dusk, and at dusk, there was a draft from the doorway.

She only noticed because the pages that needed rebinding began to flutter a bit in the breeze, and so she looked for the source of this disturbance.

She found a relieved looking Emma coming in to greet her, and Belle mindlessly continued her project. "Thank goodness. We started to worry. No one's heard from you all day. Have you lost your phone or something?" There was a hint of frustration in the savior's voice.

Belle was hardly there, her mind wrapped up in her current task, and already planning for the next one. "Phone?" She mumbled in response.

Emma caught a closer look, and her frustration quickly turned to concern. The librarian had a slight case of bed-head, although the dark circles under her eyes told another story. And it seemed there had been no change in attire since the previous night.

"Belle, have you... Slept? Eaten?"

"Eaten?"

"Hey." Emma placed her hands over the desk, keeping Belle from her work, and forcing her to focus. "Look at me." And she did, " What happened last night?"

She was looking at Emma now, albeit absentmindedly.

"Last night?" She repeated back the words, but they still didn't make sense

Emma enunciated slowly, "With Gold?"

The name dragged her back into a harsh reality. Strange enough, she had almost forgotten. Then, as the pain swept through, her tired eyes met Emma's. "He's gone." It was the first time she'd said it out loud. "I made him cross the town line, and now he's gone."

The truth of her own words was quite the blow. It felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs, and a wet heat boiled up in her eyes.

Don't cry. Be brave. Do the brave thing.

She went on, if only for the sake of convincing herself. "He was a danger to everyone. And now he's not."

The savior seemed at a loss. "Shit... I'm sorry." And an uncomfortable silence passed. "If there's anything I can do, then-"

"I'm fine." She choked back a sob. "I actually have-" and another "a lot of work to do here." She desperately avoided eye contact now. Emma's expression was all too sympathetic, despite her naturally distant disposition. She forced the tears away, and it was back to business "Did you want something?"

A simple, gentle, "No." was all that came from Emma's lips as she decided to leave the librarian be for now. She was halfway out the door when instinct stopped her. "Do you need anything? A ride home maybe?" She tried to make her offer sound as appealing as possible. "We could get a grilled cheese on the way."

"Thank you, but... I'm fine." She reputed her claim, although it was becoming more and more challenging to maintain her stone expression.

Emma nodded uncertainly, and soon she was gone.

A sigh of relief escaped Belle's lips, and the air that left her lungs was replaced by total exhaustion. She left the cluttered desk and went to the window. When her would-be savior was out of sight, Belle grabbed her coat and locked up. As she came closer to home, she looked up at the night sky.

Belle could always recall, as a young girl, reading various books on the subject of stars. It astonished her that there were so many interpretations and uses for the little dots in the sky. Some viewed them as fortelling symbols, and others depended on the stars for something as mundane as navigation. It only occurred to her when she was older, that there could be more than one truth.

Before, often when at a crossroads, she'd look to the stars for answers. She'd trace imaginary paths between them. Some nights they were infinite, and some nights she could count the trails on her fingers. But there was always more than one, or two, or three... And so there were multiple solutions to a problem, multiple paths to take in life, and multiple outcomes. Rather than it always being the right choice against the wrong choice, the possibilities were never ending. It seemed brighter that way. Like alternate endings to a story, it could always end happily ever after somehow.

When she looked up that night, however, there were no stars in the sky.

No solution. No path. No happy ending.

She lowered her gaze and kept it there for the remainder of the walk.