Among Vivien's duties at the hospital was mobilization and therapies for patients too injured to come to her. At those times she had to try to focus on ranges of movement and obstructions in joints with the incessant, annoying prattle of the room's TV behind her. One particular patient had loved Court TV. If it had "Judge" in the title, it was on 24/7. In the course of having to listen, Vivien found she got pretty good at reading each judge's face and knowing which way the verdict was going to go.
This morning, sitting at the kitchen counter and looking at Regina over a cup of extra strong coffee, she was trying to utilize that skill but kept hitting blanks. The Queen scrutinized her silently, weighing her case.
She'd nearly blown up the library: Bad.
She wouldn't reveal her identity: Bad
She was the minion of an evil sorceress: Shit storm of badness.
However, she had been as honest as possible about herself.
And she had been instrumental in helping Regina survive the night.
And she would be very, very, very difficult to kill.
"Very well, if I can trust you not to cause anymore havoc in town," A pointed expression of inquiry to which Vivien vigorously nodded, "Then I suppose it's safe to let you roam at large again. Babysitting you is hardly the most valuable use of my time right now."
"Very true. Thank you." Vivien acknowledged the jibe. She desperately needed to get back into Storybrooke to resume her hunt for information.
"No uncontrolled spells." Regina set her tea down and ticked her fingers as she began issuing mandates.
"Of course."
"No suicide attempts." Finger two.
"Right. It was a bad moment."
"Do not cause any trouble that will involve me or that I will have to fix." Finger three.
"Would you like me to assume a fake identity?" Lake sighed, wondering how many rules she was going to get. Regina ignored her and tapped her fourth finger.
"If you find any information that affects Storybrooke, myself or my son you will bring it me immediately."
"Would that be information about myself or in general? Am I becoming your snitch?" Vivien wasn't about to start giving up patients' secrets.
"If Miss Swan or Snow White or Rumplestiltskin attempt in any way to enlist your services, you will inform me." Fifth finger.
"That would be snitch, then." Vivien rolled her eyes. The price of freedom! This was starting to feel familiar.
Tell me, what did you hear them saying after I left?
"Lastly-," Regina was done with fingers and rose to her feet.
They must've shared many secrets to impress you.
"What? Do you want me to leave a quart of blood and DNA samples? Maybe start wearing a wire?" Vivien got up too, hands flailing in helpless frustration. Regina smirked. She obviously enjoyed keeping Lake on edge. This was probably her revenge for having been seen in a vulnerable state.
"Watch those light fingers of yours, dear. You know how stolen magic can come back to bite." The final warning was gently issued with a sincere smile. Lake relaxed. Regina might be planning to use her but she was concerned with her as more than a tool for spying. It was only practical and villains are masters of pragmatism. You have a - hmm, not 'friend' – an ally with special abilities? Enlist their services. Waiting for volunteers was an exercise in futility.
"Got it. Thanks, Regina." She was thanking her captor for release. But it was also her judge granting her freedom. They walked to the front door and Vivien felt more than saw the shimmer of the barrier spell releasing.
"I'd say 'be good'. But we both know how ironic that would be." The Queen gave her a final, parting dart of the brow before waving through the open door.
"Back at you." Vivien winked and strolled on her way.
Vivien's first stop should have been work. Or maybe home for a quick shower before work. Instead, there was one place she knew she had to go first.
The library still had the same signs in the windows and was already open despite the early hour. Pushing in set off a small chime and Lake waited by the doors, keeping both her hands in non-threatening positions. The chaos of the previous day had been partially contained but books still lay strewn throughout the building like debris from a hurricane. Bookcases were tilting precariously against each other, a domino effect waiting to happen. As soon as Belle appeared from behind the shelves, Vivien began speaking,
"I know you don't want me here. You're totally right. I just wanted to know if I could make it up to you by helping. Not touching anything!" she quickly reassured, "I don't even have to hang around. I thought I could offer some money. Or some . . .something"
It sounded rather lame and helpless as she heard the words aloud. She detested the idea of leaving her own damage unrepaired. It was only right that Belle not trust her to help physically restore things but there had to be a way to help compensate.
The cautious librarian walking closer, still partially shielded behind a massive armload of books. When she was at the table closest to Vivien she dropped them to the surface and rested her arms, letting out a deep exhalation of effort.
"Whew. You want to help? A check wouldn't hurt but I need hands more than dollars. You can help me fix this mess, so long as you promise it won't get worse. And you do it the old fashioned way – with elbow grease, not magic."
"Really?" Vivien had been unconsciously backing towards the doors but stopped, "I'd love to help! Thank you!"
A quick call to the hospital cleared her morning. Fauna congratulated her for taking some time off for a change and encouraged her to get some rest. Vivien decided not to disabuse her of the notion.
Belle couldn't stand up the bookshelves alone, the old wood was too heavy and had a nasty tendency to overcorrect and fall backwards. She'd obviously tried earlier because the Natural Sciences were completely flat on the floor. Both women together could muscle the bookcases back into their correct positions with only a few close calls (notably when the History shelves rocked forward and pinned Vivien against autobiographies).
"Right, now to actually get those shelves filled up again. Do you know Dewey decimals?" Belle began gathering books from the floor. Vivien gave a guilty shake of her head. Even in Storybrooke's false memories she recalled an elementary school librarian trying to drill the numbering system into her head and failing because she couldn't stop staring at the creepy woman's nostril hair.
"Well, you're about to learn. Generalities are a good place to start. Track down all these encyclopedias and get them back to that shelf over there." Belle held up a heavy bound volume of the Britannica collection (Jackson through Livestock) and pointed to a massive empty shelf by the windows. Vivien immediately began scouring the library for the distinctive blue covers. Rather like a scavenger hunt. She smiled as she unearthed hidden volumes from the depths of spilled periodicals or lurking behind stacks of young adult fiction. Once her eyes knew what to look for she could spot the color just barely peeking over the top edge of a book case where it had landed wide open to the periodic table of elements.
"Right, now magazines and papers. This whole place is rustling like a pile of leaves." Belle pointed to the loose-paged periodicals everywhere that were indeed picking up every minor breeze. Single pages of newspaper were so light that they scooted across the floor like tiny sail boats each time one of them walked past. That tendency made catching them to collect a bit harder. Vivien came up with a system of tossing a nearby book on top of the wafting papers before they could blow away at her approach.
Oh, I see you, you bastard. Get back here. A particular Op-Ed section hiding under a chair fluttered out of reach at the last second.
Oblivious to Lake's stalker/prey game taking place through the labyrinthine shelving, Belle stayed at the long study table patiently sorting through armloads of newspapers and getting them back in order. Every now and then a thump was followed either by a sound of triumph or a curse. After ten or twelve thumps another scrunched up load of papers would be dropped on the table with a flourish.
"I don't think I've ever had this much fun in a library." Vivien grinned and helped smooth out the worst of the wadded up pages.
"Yeah, well, your experience so far isn't much to measure up to, is it?" Belle's teasing smile took the edge out of the sarcasm.
"No," Vivien frowned and brushed the hair from her face, "Sorry about that."
"You said that about twenty minutes ago. And an hour before that. Stop apologizing or I'll use one of these tabloids the way god intended." Belle grabbed one of the chintzier magazines and rolled it into a tight tube. The universal weapon of discipline for every dog owner.
"Right." Lake nodded firmly and took off after a section of obituaries that she'd spotted drifting towards the far corner.
Thump. Gotcha!
"And don't throw that book too hard. The Harlequins are Ruby's favorite." Belle called absently, engrossed in her work again.
After putting section 070 back together (newspapers, journals, magazines, tabloids) Vivien graduated from hunter-gatherer to code breaking. Books gathered off the floors were stacked in chaotic towers that leaned as precariously as some Italian buildings. Belle was whittling down the piles now, sorting the books into their major categories; turning one massive tower into half a dozen smaller ones.
Vivien worked on the next stack over. The books that still had their number neatly labeled on the spine were easy enough to sort. She was beginning to get a feel for what each category of numbers meant. Literature of all kinds was in the 800s, except for Philosophy which for some reason was the 100s. Also confusing was the fact that Psychology was 100s but Medicine was 500s.
The job became infinitely more complicated when the books had no number. Either they were so old the type had worn away to nothing more than a smudge or they were brand new and hadn't been labeled yet. A few had apparently been reclassified a few times over the decades and multiple numbers were written over each other indecipherably.
"'How to Speak and Write Correctly' – Self Help section?" Vivien held up one of the mystery titles.
"Fiction. Anthology." Belle shook her head and pointed to the appropriate pile.
"'Ginger?'"
"If the cover is a root it's a cookbook in 700s. If it's a woman or animal it's fiction." Belle didn't even look up as she sorted through books with both hands like she were simply dealing cards. Lake tossed the book in with the rest of the fiction.
"'Clean?'" Lake scowled at the naked book edge where a number should have been.
"Fiction – wait, let me see," Belle looked up this time to see the cover, "That one's Self Help."
After another hour of questions and similarly confusing titles the last of the books were sorted and then quickly shelved. Vivien slid the last hardcover into place with a deep breath of relief. Both women leaned against the empty table, gazing at the accomplishment. The lower floor basked in a calm, organized glow.
"I still have an hour before I need to head to the hospital. Should I get started upstairs?" Lake looked at the upper floor, cringing internally as she imagined the havoc that must have been wrought at the center of her magical hissy fit.
"No. I got all of that taken care of already," Belle waved down the offer, "Took most of the night, though. You really know how to make a mess, don't you?"
"I'm sor-," Vivien stopped when she saw Belle reach for a magazine, "Was it really bad?"
"It was good practice. Place like this, where Wraiths and the like drop out of the sky every other day I figure I'll need a system for disaster recovery." Belle shrugged.
"I don't really want to be in the same category of disaster as a Soul Sucker." Lake closed her eyes and rubbed at the headache eating behind them. She hated knowing she'd lost control. Or maybe she'd been in control but had lost her mind. She'd been a threat to others and hadn't seen it or hadn't cared. That wasn't like her. She had always been able to see it. Some of the time she'd cared as well.
"You know," Belle went to the librarian's desk and opened a drawer, "I think I might have done the same if I came from your place."
"What?" Vivien's head snapped up so fast she felt the tendons pop.
"I found your stories last night." Belle explained gently as she pulled out a single volume and placed it on top of her desk. The familiar book was hard bound, cover so worn from use that the engraved letters had almost rubbed away.
"I had dozens of books out." Lake forced her face to stay unreadably neutral; probably a dead giveaway in itself. She pulled up the memory of how she'd covered her tracks, smothering the table with books open to different stories. Never mind that during the magical maelstrom all the books had been mixed up, opened, closed or flung away. There was no way Belle could have known that this one book meant anything.
"Yes, you did. But only this one had tear drops on the pages." The librarian softly informed her, pushing the book closer.
Vivien stared at the volume, scared to pick it up. If she touched it she'd be admitting something. Belle must've sensed the resistance. She opened the book herself, turning it so Lake could see the pages. She was right. The dense paper still had small dots of wrinkling where salt water had struck the page and soaked in.
"Are you going to tell the others?" Lake finally touched the book, shaky fingers gliding over the words. How long had she cried over that part of her story?
"'Course not. Not my place. Besides, I know where you come from. Still haven't got a bloody clue who you are." Belle gave her a broad smile as she closed the book.
"Thank you." Now her nerves could stop trembling.
"Do you want to take it?" It was a generous offer. Libraries were meant to collect and store books, not give them away. Particularly not volumes as old and loved as this one obviously was. Tempting.
"No. I think it would be too much of a clue for others if they saw it." Vivien shook her head reluctantly. She doubted anyone was likely to show up and search her home but a lot of unlikely things had been happening lately. It was too risky. Better it stay in the library, hidden in plain sight. Belle nodded understanding and escorted her to the front door.
"You can read it here as much as you like. The others too but I'm not entirely sure you want to."
"Not really." Vivien agreed. She didn't want to know what she'd missed. She didn't want to read what they got wrong. She definitely didn't want to remember what they got right.
"It's different; your world. I think it might be different from anyone else's."
"How?" Lake paused with her hand on the door.
"There were never any happy endings to begin with."