Content warnings: Keith kidnaps and attacks Belle in this.
X
Aurora paused at the door before coming into Granny's, looking around and trying to spot Bell, but she didn't see her. Aurora held little Philip a bit tighter. This was wrong. Belle should be here by now. The library was close by, and Belle hadn't had to bundle up a sleeping baby to get here.
She went over to the counter where Granny was working the register. Granny smiled when she saw her. "Aurora, what brings you out?"
"I was supposed to meet Belle here," Aurora said, not mentioning evil fairies or dragons. "Have you seen her?"
Granny frowned when Aurora mentioned Belle. "Not since this morning. That girl is working herself half to death. Have you called her? It wouldn't surprise me if she fell asleep on her feet."
Aurora got out her phone, but all she got was Belle's voice mail. "She's not answering."
Granny studied her. "This is about more than meeting over a piece of cake, isn't it?"
"I—maybe. Yes."
"You don't have to tell me, but is it something that Belle might go to the pawn shop for? Get a magic tool or a potion or something?"
The knot inside Aurora's chest eased. A magic tool. If there was anything that could deal with Maleficent, it would be in Rumplestiltskin's shop. "I think so."
Granny gave a curt nod. "Sit down and wait a bit. Then, if she doesn't show up, we can make some more calls."
Aurora sat down in a booth and began looking over the menu. No coffee, she decided. When she drank it in the evening, she was up all night. Maybe a muffin and some milk. . . .
Someone was standing next to the table. She cleared her throat. Aurora looked up, expecting to see Belle.
It was Maleficent.
X
The way out of the caretaker's apartment was down the back of the library, away from the main street. It really wasn't that late, but there was no one about. Belle hardly noticed as she hurried down the stairs—until a hand reached out and grabbed her, shoving her against the building.
"Remember me?" Keith asked. "You owe me, wench. And it's time to pay up."
Wench. That's what he'd called her when they'd first met in the Enchanted Forest. He'd tried to make a deal with Rumplestiltskin, a night with her in trade for information. Rumplestiltskin had torn out his tongue and offered to trade it back to him instead. Keith hadn't liked the deal then and he didn't like it now.
Belle struggled to get free of him, but this wasn't last night. Keith was sober. He held her pinned tight against the wall, and there was no door behind her for her to slip into. But what he wanted—and what he was willing to do to get it—hadn't changed. This time, he started with her shirt, tearing it open. He took a moment to look at her, evaluating his prize. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of something glittering between her breasts. It was her wedding ring. She'd hidden it away soon after Rumple was gone because of the looks people gave her, but nothing would make her stop wearing it. The way he looked at it made her feel more naked than his attack.
But, Keith didn't look at it long. With a smile, he pulled out a long, thin blade. The hilt matched the sword Hook often wore. He held the knife against her throat, though he barely glanced up from her chest as he did it. It made him careless—Belle hoped he was being careless—and the blade drew blood. She felt it trickle down her skin.
"You're going to be a good girl, Belle, aren't you?" Keith asked. "This isn't going to get ugly, is it? I've had enough of playing your games." With his other hand, he reached up and gripped her breast through her bra, squeezing it painfully.
"Don't. Please, Keith, don't do this."
His hand tightened bruisingly. "You're not putting me off, Belle—or should I call you Lacey? What was that, a business name back home? Gold may have paid a good price for you, but he's not here anymore. Did you think it was funny to lure me into that alley and let him beat me up? Well, if you like it rough, girl, believe me, I can give you what you want."
Lacey. That had been the persona Regina cursed her with, a barfly who thought nothing about dumping one date before the food was even served to find another man in back of the diner. If Rumple hadn't found her and pulled Keith off her, Belle's cursed self would have done everything Keith had wanted now and more—or she would have gotten bored and walked away, leaving Keith with no idea how things had gone wrong.
Or that's what Lacey thought she could do. Since her memories were nothing but lies created by a woman who hated her, Belle had her doubts that it would have worked out that way.
This time, there was no Rumplestiltskin to rescue her.
But, the memory of Lacey gave her plan. The bare shreds of a plan. Time, she had to buy time, get somewhere she could fight him. Keith believed she was a courtesan, a seductress, that this was all a game to her, one she enjoyed playing.
All right, then. She could play the game
Trying not to show how sick and terrified she felt, Belle smiled at him. She tried to remember the heated looks Lacey had given men at The Rabbit Hole. "Not here," she told him, feeling sick to her stomach. "With our luck, Granny will be by any minute. Wouldn't you rather do this in a bed?" Keith glanced up towards her apartment. "Not there either," Belle purred—or tried to purr. She was no actress. Would Keith believe any of this?
And was she even making the right decision? The apartment would be the first place people would look for her if they noticed she was missing, wouldn't it? How long till Aurora came looking for her? Will—she wasn't sure about Will. He might be back in a few minutes or a few days—or never. He'd acted like he cared when she first told him the test results, but he'd run away quickly enough. She was carrying Rumplestiltskin's child. Who in Storybrooke would want anything to do with her, knowing that?
The pregnancy test she'd taken was upstairs in her apartment with its tell-tale results. Belle didn't think pregnancy tests had figured much in Keith's life in this world. But, if he saw it, if he realized what it meant. . . .
Some men, rapists or not, would run away from a pregnant woman as fast as their legs could carry them. Some wouldn't care one way or the other.
Some, if they knew it was the Dark One's child, would think they were doing the town a favor if they could just get rid of it. Belle remembered a young woman brought to the infirmary during the Ogre Wars, almost beaten to death by the man who had been her lover when he found out she was with child. He'd been trying to make her miscarry. Belle remembered the terrible pool of blood that had poured out of her. He'd succeeded.
Not the apartment, then. And not the pawn shop. Even Keith would figure something was up if she tried to lure him there. That left only one place.
Using every speck of seduction she could conjure up from Lacey's memories, Belle said, "Want to see what kind of sheets the Dark One has?"
X
"Where's Snotty?" Rumplestiltskin demanded again.
"Wherever Belle is," Jones said.
Rumplestiltskin was ready to vanish right then, to disappear out of this alley and reappear back in Belle's apartment—and to the Dark One's Tomb with anyone who had a problem with him being back in town. But, Jones added, "Or wherever he's taken her."
Wherever he's taken her. Keith had had a day to sober up. Maybe he was actually thinking. A smart man would take Belle someplace else, somewhere people wouldn't come looking for her. "So, where'd he take her? And, if you don't want your hook buried in your throat, you'd better answer."
Jones laughed, as if it didn't matter that his own hook was against his throat. Of course, Jones thought this was Will Scarlet, a thief not a murderer.
Idiot, Rumplestiltskin thought. Unlike Jones, Will might prefer to walk away from a fight instead of bully his victims for fun, but he could be pushed too far. He'd seen his sister fall through the ice and die. He'd seen the young girl he'd taken in lying dead, her wish for love turning fatally against her. He'd seen the woman he loved, Anastasia, tortured and murdered before his eyes. You didn't threaten a woman Will Scarlet cared about, not if you wanted to live.
If Will Scarlet had been holding this hook, Jones might already be a corpse. Clueless as ever, Jones just said, "No idea where he's gone, mate. Doesn't matter. You won't find her," he added a sly snigger. "Not in time."
Rumplestiltskin felt a wave of fury. "She saved your bleeding life!" he snarled, Will's words, his anger. "And this is how you pay her back?"
Jones had been enjoying himself, but that changed him. "Her," he growled. "Rumplestiltskin's pet. You think I needed help from her? Maybe Nottingham taking her down a peg will teach her a lesson."
Rumplestiltskin's head ached. He'd once read once of men who drowned because they wouldn't listen to a woman tell them how to save themselves. Jones was cut from the same cloth. He might accept rescue from a woman he'd decided belonged to him but not from the serving maid of his worst enemy, not from a woman he'd already been unable to trick or charm into helping him.
"You'd better pray he hasn't, 'mate.'" Rumplestiltskin pressed the hook a little closer. "Where. Is. He?"
Hook laughed. "Not telling."
Snails couldn't talk, and torturing it out of Jones would take too long. Rumplestiltskin looked over Jones' friends, wondering which of them would be easiest to break, when someone else spoke up.
"You won't tell him, Hook?" Emma asked as she came up behind them. Her gun was drawn. "Then you'd better tell me."
X
Keith caught his breath, a flicker of fear in his eyes. For a moment, meeting his gaze, Belle hoped the mention of the Dark One—and reminding Keith of her connection to him—would be enough to chase him off. But, he got a grip on himself. Smiling, his grip on her breast lightened, becoming almost bearable. "The Dark One's bed. . . . I heard you hadn't been back to his house since he left."
She gave him Lacey's cocky grin. Convince him and stay alive, she told herself. "I haven't found anyone man enough to be worth it. Care to give it a try?"
Belle could see lust and fear warring in his eyes, not sure which she wanted to win. Fear could make men do crazy things, but if he would just be afraid enough to go away. . . .
"All right," Keith said. "The Dark One's place it is. Now, turn around."
"Turn around. . . ?"
"Sorry, Lacey, I don't trust you. Be a good girl, and maybe that'll change, hmm? Now, turn around." He moved the blade back just enough she could move without slicing her throat against it. Belle did what he told her.
When her back was to him, Keith moved the knife away. Then he pulled her shirt off. Belle's heart was thudding against her ribs, afraid he meant to take her here and now after all. She heard tearing sounds. A few more moments passed.
"Keith. . . ." Belle began.
"Hands behind your back," Keith ordered. "Now."
Belle complied. Keith tied her hands together, yanking the rope tight. If it was rope. It felt softer than it should and stray threads brushed against her skin. He must have made them it of her shirt. He turned her around. The knife was back against her throat. "Open your mouth." When Belle obeyed, he put a small wad of cloth in her mouth. Then he tied it in place with another rope made from a twisted piece of her shirt, gagging her. He ran a hand over her ribs. "You've gotten scrawny since your lord and master went away," he said. "Maybe that will change once you have a real man." She'd worn a skirt with pockets. He slid his hand in, taking a moment to feel her up before pulling out her keys. He gestured towards Rumple's car. "Over there."
Keith had her walk in front of him. When they reached the car, he held the knife against her with his right hand while, with only a little fumbling, he unlocked it with the left. Then, he shoved her in.
This wasn't good. There were weapons, magical and mundane, up at the house. But, to use them, Belle needed her hands free. She tried to hide her revulsion as Keith pulled the seatbelt in place over her, pawing over her as he did it, effectively locking her in. If there was one thing the Sheriff of Nottingham had learned in his fight against outlaws, she thought ruefully, it was how to tie them up.
Belle tried to breathe steadily. What would Lacey do in this situation? Even tied up and gagged, Lacey would be trying to play Keith. She would probably give him one of her sultry smiles, as if this was her idea of fun and games. And Keith would have believed it—maybe, hopefully—right up until the moment Lacey was able to club him over the head or stab him with his own knife.
Belle couldn't do that. It was all she could do not to look disgusted or afraid—especially when Keith looked at her, securely tied in place, and got that heated look in his eyes again. He put the knife down somewhere she couldn't see and slid both his hands up and down her chest.
"Want to do it here, Lacey-girl?" he asked. "A little treat to get us started? We can finish up at Gold's later."
Belle reached for Lacey, trying to find a way out of this. Don't look afraid, she told herself. The moment Keith knew how afraid she really was, she was done for.
If only she could speak, convince him he didn't want to do this. Lacey would have mock him for acting like a teenager who'd run off with his father's keys. Making out in a borrowed car? I thought you weren't a little boy, Keith. Is this really the best you can do?
Maybe. It might work. If she were Lacey. If she could talk.
Belle would have tried to find something human inside of Keith, something that could feel compassion. Begging for mercy, she thought. That would only make Keith feel more powerful. He would enjoy every minute of hurting her.
Please, gods, please, Belle prayed, fighting back terror. Let him wait. Please, I just need more time.
Keith nuzzled her throat with wet, slobbery kisses. But, as his hands slid around her back, trying to get to the hooks on her bra, her bound arms got in the way. He pulled back in frustration. Relief flooded Belle.
It must have shown in her face. Or maybe his mistook her look for something else, mockery, spite, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that his eyes flared with anger and his hand closed bruisingly around her chin. She couldn't tell if he meant to hit her or if he was trying to figure out how to kiss her with the gag in the way. His hands went over her face, toying with the cloth.
If he took away the gag, if she screamed, was there anyone who would hear her? Was there anyone who would care?
Keith shoved her back. "Later," he said. "You're going to show me everything you've ever done for the Dark One." He gave her a smile that was no doubt meant to be seductive. As he started up the car and drove off, he began sharing some of his fantasies about what he thought she must have done with her husband.
Belle tried very hard to think like Lacey. Listening to this wouldn't have sickened Lacey. She might even have been amused at what he was saying and how wrong he was about Rumple instead of feeling the bile rising up her throat. She imagined being sick with the gag in her mouth. If that happened, would she choke to death on her own vomit? Or would it just make a disgusting mess in her mouth? Keith would probably be amused so long as he didn't try to kiss her.
Vomit. Filth. Choking. Those were easier things to deal with than listening to Keith. She tried to concentrate on them. I can get through this, Belle thought.
I have to.
When they got to the house, Keith parked the car. He got out, then went around to her side, yanking her onto the street. Belle stumbled and tried to right herself. Keith pushed her forward before she managed to regain her feet. Somehow, she managed not to fall.
"Almost home," he said with a laugh, gesturing towards the stairs. The light was dim, but she saw the knife flash in his hand. It would have been too much to hope he'd forget it in the car.
The house was dark. No porch light or warm glow from the windows to let the neighbors see a half-naked woman, bound and gagged, being forced up the stairs at knife-point. Keith pushed her against the door, keeping her pinned and making sure she felt his blade tickling her ribs, as he reached over her and unlocked it.
Belle expected him to shove her again. Instead, his hand slid caressingly down her back, resting against the bare skin just above her skirt. As if he thought he were her seducer, not her rapist. In Keith's mind, there probably wasn't that much of a difference. Now, he was certain she couldn't escape, he could concentrate on what he'd brought her here for.
The house was dark. Belle heard the door close behind her and the lock click before Keith turned on the lights. He stepped in front of her, drawing her close as he lifted the knife towards her face. The knife slid through the rags tied around her mouth. Keith pulled the gag out, letting it drop on the floor. He looked her over hungrily, like a little boy facing a pile of candy and trying to decide where to start. "So, where's the Dark One's bed?" he asked.
"Just a minute," Belle said, trying to use Lacey's teasing voice. She could do this. Ignore the ropes binding her hands. Pretend she wasn't terrified for her life. There was a child depending on her. She had to do this.
There was a sword hanging on the wall nearby. A beautiful—and functional—19th century rifle was in the next room. Nearby, a display cabinet from pre-revolution France held an enchanted opal that would have slowly (too slowly for Belle's purposes) drained the life out of him. A gold ring would have enlarged to a magic circle, trapping him within. All of them required her to have her hands free.
All right, then. She would just have to try more mundane solutions.
"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink." She gave him the look Lacey had used to get guys she just hustled at pool to pay her bar tab. Nodding her head towards Rumple's den, she said, "Rumplestiltskin has scotch older than he is."
Ah, that worked. Keith had been in jail all day. If he'd had anything to drink since he got out, she couldn't smell it on his breath. He glanced up the stairs and then towards the den. Belle slid away from him and towards the den. As if her bound hands didn't matter. As if she didn't care that he had a knife and had already cut her with it. She turned around when she reached the door, afraid he had wised up and wasn't following her—and just as afraid that he was.
She needn't have worried (or hoped). Keith was right on her heels. There were fewer weapons in this room. Keith spotted one of them, a jewel encrusted letter-opener on Rumple's desk (unless it was a jeweled knife Rumple used as a letter opener. Belle had never been sure which). He picked it up, examing the gems in its hilt and its tiny scabbard. "Are those real?"
She didn't even need to think about how Lacey would answer that. I have to do this, Belle thought. I have to convince him. She leaned back by the bottle scotch, arching her back. Her wedding ring sparkled in the lamplight. "Everything's real." She nodded towards the scotch. "But. . . ." she shrugged her shoulders suggestively. "Looks like you'll have to pour." Would he fall for this? Hook wouldn't have, not that she'd have tried this on him. The only chance she would have stood with Hook was, if he thought she was so beaten down, he might as well untie her and let her do the work.
Keith looked Belle up and down approvingly. "Gold had some beautiful things, didn't he? Were you worth the price he paid for you?"
No, Belle thought, remembering their last meeting at the town line, I wasn't. "He always thought so."
Keith grinned. "All right. Turn around, and I'll cut you loose."
Belle turned around. Keith's knife slid through her bonds. "There, you see?" he said. "I can be nice." He brushed her hair away from her neck and began kissing her along her bare shoulder. "What are you going to do for me for being so nice?"
Belle leaned over the glasses, moving away from Keith. "Well, first, I'm going to pour you a drink," she said, filling a glass and handing it to him.
"That's a good start," Keith said, taking the glass from her. "Do you know what I'd like you to do next?"
She needed to put distance between them but she didn't know how. "Why don't you tell me?" Belle remembered watching her father's men-at-arms in their practice sessions, remembering the advice they gave as they trained. Play along with your enemy. Don't strike before it's time. Wait for your opening. It will come.
Keith downed the scotch in one gulp and held it out for her to refill. Still managing to smile, Belle poured him more. Keith didn't seem to notice she wasn't drinking. Instead, he was looking at Rumple's desk. He ran a hand along the carved edge of Rumple's desk. It was a beautiful antique, made in the 19th century and as large as some kitchen tables.
"I want you to strip and lie down this. Let me get a good look at all of you."
No, it wasn't supposed to be happening like this. He was supposed to spend time drinking. With luck, he was supposed to pass out drunk without any more work on her part. Don't panic, she told herself. Stay in control. "O-on the desk?" Belle said, trying to sound confident. "It's not that comfortable, trust me."
"Done it here before, have you? Did Gold call you in when he was bored or just wanted an afternoon treat?"
Belle tried to breathe steadily and keep calm, sure that Keith must have been able to see her heart beating against her chest. He was locked in one of his fantasies. Being sick wouldn't help her—and it wouldn't help her child. Think like Lacey. That's the only way you'll get out of this. Pretend to be her.
She shrugged again, lifting her bare shoulder. "If that's what you want." Slowly, hoping she looked seductive rather than scared, she walked to the desk. This was Keith, she reminded herself. He hadn't been able to figure out getting beaten up in an alley meant she wasn't interested.
She should slide off the bra, she thought. It was a frumpy, practical bra. Getting rid of it would feed Keith's fantasies. As long as he thought he was getting whatever he imagined, he would give her time. But, she couldn't. The thought made her sick.
He could cut it off her. Belle remembered Regina's guards searching her for any hidden weapons or tools. They'd cut her clothes apart at the hems, checking for whatever they thought she might have sewn into them. But, those had been Regina's slaves, their hearts torn out and kept in her collection. They'd been as cold as Ingrid's magic as they'd manhandled her. Keith would be worse, much worse.
Don't think about it.
Casually, she went behind the desk, expecting to hear Keith ask what she was up to and tell her to stop at any moment. But, he just watched her, as if she were a child who thought she was being clever, as if she were a mouse who thought she could outrun the cat toying with her. "Think you're going to get away from me?" he said.
Belle tried to look amused, as if he'd made a good joke. "You were right. Gold and I did a lot of things in here." Paperwork, sitting together reading in the evening, nothing Keith would understand. "There's a little toy of Gold's that you've got to see," Belle told him, sliding open a drawer. "Trust me, it will make this a lot easier."
"The perverted imp." Keith said it appreciatively. Even though that was exactly what she wanted Keith to think she meant, Belle felt a wave of anger towards him. Keith didn't just think Rumplestiltskin was a monster like him, he admiredhim for it. If Rumple left a trail of dead women behind him, she thought furiously, Keith would probably want him canonized.
No, don't show anger. Don't even feel it. You're almost home.
There. Lying beside paper and a bottle of magic ink, she saw it.
Yes, this would make things a lot easier.
Belle picked it up and pointed it at Keith, her hand on the trigger. Keith's smile vanished, which Belle understood. She'd never been able to smile when a gun was aimed at her, either.
X
Note: This was a hard chapter to write and I'm not entirely comfortable with it. I want to point out that what Keith was attempting was rape and that Belle recognized it. I didn't see any other way for her to get out of this expect to play along with Keith's warped view of reality and try to get to where she could fight back. If that doesn't come across, it's my failure as a writer and not an attempt to soft-pedal violent crime as something less than it is.