Chapter LVI
Me, Myself, and I
The hospital released Ruby after breakfast. If the collection of almost-edible substance on the tray was considered breakfast. Belle knew that the "food" tasted as good as it looked.
Doctor Malcolm had been very strict about Ruby's release conditions. She was on light duty for two weeks and was not allowed to shift into wolf-form until the next full moon. The doctor clearly expected Granny and herself to enforce these edicts.
Belle liked Doctor Malcolm. She was intelligent, but not arrogant. She had been a royal healer, and ran the hospital lab and morgue. Despite being a behind-the-scenes worker, she was an amazing healer. She was well-versed in treating both magical and mundane issues. She was brusque, no-nonsense, and confident. Her bedside manner was stiff, but she was an excellent doctor.
Dr. Malcom was also very interested in combining the knowledge of the old world and the new. She studied modern medicine, traditional homeopathic healing, and magic. It was fascinating. Belle could have talked with her about it for hours. She had to convince her to let her put a copy of her research in the library!
She had visited just before Ruby signed the last of the stack of forms to leave. She and the doctor had gotten into another conversation about magic and medicine. Ruby had teased them both about how "nerdy" they were. Her teasing was a sure sign that she was feeling better.
Thank God!
God. Gods. Spirits. Belle had spent the night worrying and praying. She hadn't prayed so hard or earnestly in years. Years before the curse was cast. So long that it had surprised her that she'd remembered the words.
Ruby. Sweet, kind, funny, smart, beautiful, loyal, amazing Ruby. Her friend. No, they were more than friends. Girlfriend? They hadn't said that exact word yet, but that felt closer to the truth. She loved Ruby. She loved her and had almost lost her before allowing herself to say those words.
Belle pieced together yesterday's chaos as best she could. Between the news, others at the hospital, and cellphones she'd seen it all. She watched almost every second of the fight from multiple angles.
She'd watched The Queen of Hearts tear Ruby to bits. There had been so much blood. Ruby could have died, should have died, would have died. She would be gone, forever.
Belle would have never heard her laugh again. Never seen her dazzling and mischievous smile again. Never smelled her heady mix of pine and perfume again. Never tasted her kiss again. Never press against her chest and feel the steady beat of her heart again.
Esmeralda had explained that Cora hated Children of the Moon as a whole. She'd also admitted that Ruby's mother Anita had sworn an oath against Cora. Additionally, Esmeralda was Ruby's godmother and Anita had been Regina's. Because of course!
It was all connected. They were all connected. It felt like a million invisible threads ran through Storybrooke. They twisted, tangled, and tied them all together. Was it coincidence, luck, fate, the curse, or was there something more?
Those strings, though, had pulled tight and held. Storybrooke had come together and protected their own. They had fought together, killed together, died together. There hadn't been royals and peasants, just people. People protecting people.
Someone, Belle had no idea who, had recorded Regina healing Ruby. Belle watched it repeatedly until Granny threatened to take the phone away from her.
There was no question, no confusion or doubt. Regina had saved Ruby's life. They had been enemies once, on opposite sides of a great war. The threads that connected them all had blurred old lines. Everything was turning on it's head. Turned family into enemies. Turned enemies into friends.
Everything, and everyone, was changing.
Belle was changing.
Once upon a time, she'd been a girl. A sheltered lady who loved books and wanted to be as brave, strong, and clever as the heroes she'd read about. She hadn't known when, or how, but had known that one day she would have an adventure of her own. She would do something great, amazing, something bookworthy. A book that another little girl would read and want to emulate. Belle had been positive that her glorious moment in the sun would come. So when given the chance to save her people from ogres, she'd offered herself up as a martyr to do so.
Oh, what an adventure she'd had. Until she'd been foolish enough to become Regina's secret weapon against Rumple.
The helpless prisoner had not been the story she'd dreamed about. Belle had been locked away in the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke.
Rumple, her father, and her few friends had thought she was dead. Regina had told them Rumple some gruesome story.
So Belle had been locked away and forgotten. She had been as good as dead. Until she wasn't.
Regina cast the curse. Emma broke the curse. Rumple took her from the asylum and to his estate.
From one prison to another, because she hadn't been free.
She'd still been a prisoner. She'd been a prisoner for longer than she'd been a free woman.
In the Old World, she'd existed, not lived, in a tower. In Storybrooke she existed in the hospital. She'd hated the tower with a passion, but the madhouse was worse.
She'd had no memories, no identity, no hope. All she'd had was a merry-go-round of medications and therapies. She'd bounced from diagnosis to diagnosis. They had started with dissociative amnesia, major depressive disorder, and PTSD. A few years in the mid-90s, they'd labeled her with skitzoeffective disorder.
Well, not her. Since she'd had no identification, no records, and no memory, Belle French had not existed. They'd called her Jane (the nurses usually called her Janie) Doe. The days hadn't been that bad. It had been orderly, always the same. Safe, in an institutional sort of way.
The nights had been the worst. Her waking brain was blank, a true tabula rasa. Her subconscious, however, clung to the past. She'd suffered terrible night terrors. Images of golden goblins, fiery monsters, and dark sorceresses had haunted her. Ogres, trolls, and fiery monsters hunted her. Shattered remains of a lost life had horrified her. She'd been dosed with Haldol to stop her hysterical screams more times than she could count.
Heavy drugs or the melody of wolves in the woods had been the only thing that had kept the nightmares at bay. She'd vastly preferred the wolves.
She wasn't a prisoner anymore. Not physically. Not mentally. She was no longer an amnesiac. Emotionally and spiritually, she still felt shackled to the past. To her trauma and her triumphs, to a life that had been reimagined for children's entertainment.
"Belle!"
She jerked out of her thoughts.
Ruby leaned out of Granny's van window and waved. Belle waved back. Every time she saw Ruby her heart beat faster and her stomach came alive with butterflies. Every time they touched, Belle felt sparks crackling under her skin. When they kissed, it was amazing.
A wave of emotions whisked her thoughts away. She had come so close to losing her. The hours she'd spent the night at Ruby's side, and those hours weighed on her. She'd held Ruby's hand, smoothed her hair, and kissed her cheeks and forehead. Belle had soothed her when nightmares troubled her restless sleep.
Regina and the medical staff had worked wonders. Ruby had still survived a horrible trauma, though. There would be more nightmares and sleepless nights to come. Ruby had told Belle some parts of it. Whispered it to her in the night.
Belle felt like she knew what had happened, as well as anyone who hadn't been there could. Videos, pictures, news commentary, stories, and seeing the aftermath herself. All of that, yet one thing bothered her. One minor detail stood out.
Cora Mills could have hurt Ruby in countless horrible ways. She could have torn her to pieces or cut her to ribbons. She could have done so many horrible things. All that power and twisted imagination and she had chosen a cane.
Such a simple thing. Strangely mundane for the otherwise flamboyant sorceress. She'd changed that cane into a weapon and used it to attack Ruby.
A cane made from ebony wood. A cane with an intricately shaped and carved silver handle. Belle knew that cane. Knew the pattern of the dark wood grain. Knew the swirling silver carvings. Knew the sound of it clicking along the floor. Knew whose hand it belonged in.
Knowledge, some said, was power. It was also a burden. This knowledge felt like an anchor around her neck, dragging her down. She knew, but that didn't mean she understood. She needed to understand.
Belle had to face this, face him, head-on. She had to look him in the eye. She couldn't be free, not of heart or spirit, until she faced him. Until she learned the truth. Until she understood.
It was, as cliche as it was for a librarian to say, like a book. She needed to finish one chapter before beginning another. She had to turn the page on the prisoner so she could truly be free.
So she walked away from the hospital. She walked through the disaster zone of town. She walked past her library. She walked with one destination, one person, one conversation in mind.
It took fifteen minutes to reach the pawnshop. She rehearsed the words in her head as she walked. The words in her head fell on the beat of her footsteps.
Belle felt calm and collected. She tamped down on her emotions. She focused on the black and white, the facts, the truth. This wasn't the time to lead with her emotions.
The facts.
Fact: Belle had been useless yesterday. She couldn't fight. She didn't know first aid. She had never held a hammer or bandaged any wound worse than a minor cut.
Fact: Rumplestiltskin, The Dark One, could do all that and more. He was the most powerful magic-user in the world (old and new). He could cut down ogres and humans alike with a wave of his hand. He knew how to heal. He could effortlessly repair the streets and buildings. Honestly? He could have made the ogres disappear and be back to his shop in five minutes or less. The horrific battle would have been over before it had even started.
Fact: Rumplestiltskin hadn't done any of those things. He had done nothing. He'd had the power to do anything and everything, and he had chosen to do nothing.
Many people, most she supposed, wouldn't dare to question Rumple. Even Regina was wary of him, and she was the Evil Queen!
Fact: Belle was not afraid of Rumplestiltskin.
Yes, he was The Dark One, but she knew that there was more to him. He loved, he feared, he dreamed. Belle knew he could redeem himself. He told her that he wanted to be a better person. If he did want to be a better person, then why hadn't he helped?
Fact: Rumple kept his cane with him at all times in Storybrooke. As the Dark One, he didn't need it. It was more of a habit, a personality quirk, a reminder, for him. Even if he didn't, Belle knew that his home and shop were both magically and electronically guarded. He'd cast protection spells and upgraded his security systems since Hook's break-in. Belle didn't understand the specifics, but she did know one thing. If he hadn't wanted Cora to have it, she wouldn't have been able to lay a finger on his cane.
The facts were stark, grim, and undeniable. What else was she supposed to think? Belle had considered multiple options (excuses), but only one thing made sense. She dreaded the answer but had to ask. She had to understand.
Belle arrived at the Pawn Shop at exactly 9:05. The lights were on, and the sign read open. The building was pristine, like nothing disastrous at all had happened.
Inside everything was as it had always been. The motley collection of antiques, artifacts, trinkets, and stolen treasures filled the room. Rumple was behind the glass and mahogany counter. He was paging through a thick ledger.
His hair fell over his face, but Belle did not need to see it. She knew exactly how he looked. His brows were furrowed and his eyes slightly squinted. His mouth would be a hard thin line.
He held up a finger, indicating he needed a moment. When he looked up, his hair fluttered and fell over his eyes. Then he saw her. She could tell because his face softened, and he smiled. It was not a sarcastic smirk or a garish grin. No, this was one of Rumple's true and rarely shared smiles.
"Belle."
He closed the ledger.
"Good morning."
He abandoned his work and walked out from behind the counter, his focus fully on her.
"Have you had breakfast? I can make some tea. I have some of those biscuits you enjoy."
He wore a pressed charcoal gray suit with a matching tie and pocket square. He leaned on a cane made of polished light wood and a smooth mother-of-pearl handle.
It was a different cane.
She could see that he was speaking. His lips were moving, but Belle couldn't hear him. Blood was rushing in her head. There was a buzz in her ears. Her heart was pounding so furiously that she could feel it through her body.
It was a different cane.
All her reasonable and practiced words evaporated. Belle felt fire in her belly rise in her chest. It reminded her of the fires that Regina had used to protect them against the wraith. This fire, which she'd kept banked for years, scorched up her throat and out of her mouth.
"Tell me!"
It was a question or a request, it was a demand.
"Tell me that you didn't sic the Queen of Hearts on Ruby Lucas!"
Belle wanted to be paranoid. She wanted this all to be a wild conspiracy she'd imagined. She would accept that she did have some sort of mental illness and was having delusions if it meant she was wrong. She was neither wrong nor insane and she knew it.
"Tell me that you didn't know about her plot."
Belle could hear herself. Her voice, hard and loud, sounded foreign. Her accent, softened by years of elocution lessons, twisted around her words. The accent made her demands sharper and more demanding.
"Tell me that you didn't know she had your cane. Tell me that you had nothing to do with what happened yesterday. Tell me the truth!"
Rumple hesitated. It was only for a second, but that was more than enough.
"Belle."
He closed the distance between them and grabbed her hands. His hands were soft but strong. He held her hands like he would never let her go.
"I had nothing to do with what happened- "
He was not lying. He was deflecting, minimizing, and giving her a half-truth. He wouldn't outright lie, but he wasn't telling the truth either.
Belle doubted that Rumple knew what the truth was anymore. He was the Dark One. She hadn't changed him. He'd changed her. He'd made her into a fool. A fool to make a deal with him. A fool to trust him. A fool, a silly romantic fool, to love him.
"She used your cane-"
It was not a question or an accusation, but an undeniable fact.
"-to attack Ruby."
His eye twitched and his fingers flexed and tightened around her hands. He didn't look away from her, but she could see how the darkness swirled in his eyes.
She raised her chin, unwilling to look away.
"Who is Cora Mills to you?"
It wasn't about Cora. Belle didn't care about her. This was about Rumple and his deals. Rumple and his dishonesty. Rumple and the way he thought she was his possession to play with.
Belle watched his eyes. The way his brows raised. The ways his pupils dilated.
"Ah. Cora and I-"
He hesitated again. Gauging the right amount of truth to pepper into his words.
"-have known each other for a long time."
A small, almost imperceptible, smile graced his lips.
"I've known her since before you were born."
It was easy to forget that Rumple was much older than he looked. He had lived for centuries and many of those years were a mystery to Belle.
"I know she is in Storybrooke. We've spoken. I did not know that she was going to attack Granny's yesterday."
It was another half-truth.
"But you knew she would do something."
Again, Belle wasn't asking a question.
Rumple leaned on his cane and sighed. He twitched his fingers and the store's sign flipped to closed. The lock snicked into place.
"Come along. This conversation requires a seat and a cup of tea."
"No."
Belle stood her ground.
"I do not need tea."
He was trying to handle her, to control her, to manipulate her.
"I need answers and honesty."
She was tired. Stiff and sore from the night in the hospital chair. More than that, she was emotionally and mentally spent. Tired of the secrets, mysteries, tales, and lies. Tired of everyone else making decisions for her.
"I hope your new friend Regina-"
His mouth twisted into a scowl. His fingers clutched the head of the cane so tightly his knuckles blanched.
"-hasn't filled your head full of nonsense."
He was trying to change the subject and picked his favorite scapegoat. It wasn't a surprise. It was a tired old trick. She was sick and tired of being a weapon for Regina and Rumple to attack each other.
At least Regina regretted, or at the very least apologized for, what she'd done. Did Rumple have regrets? Did he even care that he'd hurt her?
Belle pulled her hands away from his and folded her arms over her chest. She searched his face, his eyes, his body language. What was she looking for? The truth? Remorse? Love? She wasn't sure Rumple had any of that in him anymore.
"Cora came to see me recently. She was my student once. Very powerful. Very driven. Very skilled."
He seemed almost proud.
"You made a deal with her."
She knew that now. It was obvious. Belle could see it now, could hear it. It was always a deal.
He stepped back around the counter. He was putting more and more space between them.
"I did. A long time ago."
Of course.
"You gave her your cane."
He shook his head in the negative, but did not make eye contact with her.
"No?"
Logic, cool and precise, put out the fire of her temper. Her voice returned to a lower volume.
"You didn't stop her from taking it, though. The same way you didn't fight to stop her yesterday. That was your deal, wasn't it? You turned a blind eye to her chaos-"
She could see it in her mind's eye. She could even hear it.
"-and she what? Made sure to kill people you deign disposable?"
Ruby.
The muscles in his cheek ticed and his fingers twitched on the head of his replacement cane.
"You don't understand. It's compli-"
No, it wasn't. Not in the least.
"Tell me the truth, Rumple. The whole truth. Why didn't you come help? You are the most powerful sorcerer in every realm. You are the Dark One. Was it because you didn't want to or because you had told that-"
She could hear Emma in her head calling out every curse word known to man, and some unknown to Belle.
"-woman that you wouldn't."
"It is more complicated-"
Rumple tried to calm her down, to placate her, to manipulate her. To make her doubt herself. It was not complicated, and she was no one's fool.
He wasn't listening to her. She stepped forward, right up to the wood and glass case that stood between them. She slapped her hands on the counter, hard.
"It isn't!"
Rumple jumped a little, surprised.
She supposed it was surprising. First shouting and now slapping. She was not being a meek little bookworm or a silly little girl.
"You don't understand-"
Belle furrowed her brow, her jaw tight, teeth grinding together. The fire of her anger and the ice of her logic were warring within her.
"Then explain it to me. I am not a child or a fool! So make me understand."
Rumple's temper, always ugly and rarely far from the surface, took over. He slammed a fist down on the glass too.
"I did it for you!"
He shouted, and his eyes turned a vicious gold.
His voice and his eyes dropped immediately.
"I was losing you and I-"
His voice was almost a whisper now. He reached for her hand.
She jerked her hand away and took a step back.
"I couldn't stand to lose you again. You're mine, Belle. My True Love. My Happily Ever After. We are meant to be together. Forever."
Forever. The word rang in her ears. Belle was back on the fateful day. Like no time had passed at all. She was that naive girl, signing her life away for her people. It was clear now. Her life laid out before her like a map. Forever.
He had known that Cora would attack. He had asked (or at least known) that she would hurt Ruby. He had known and had done nothing. He wasn't talking with her. He was talking at her. He wanted to distract and placate her.
Worst of all? He was talking about her as if she were an object. Like one of the shop's baubles for sale, trade, sold, or in this case stolen.
She wasn't an object. She didn't belong to Rumple. She didn't belong to her father. She didn't belong to Ruby.
"No."
Not now, never again.
"Belle, please I-us- forever."
She knew he hadn't forgotten, because the Dark One never forgot.
"There is no us. Forever expired with our deal."
Deals were the only language he spoke, the only thing he cared about.
"I pledged forever for the safety and lives of my family and friends. To keep ogres away from my little-" His exact words. "-town."
If she smacked him across the face, he couldn't have appeared more shocked. Good. No more being everyone's tool, everyone's fool.
She thought she would feel triumphant, or clever, or at least somehow better. Belle didn't. She felt numbed by facts, truth, and realization. All the anger was gone.
"Belle, you need-"
She shook her head. He didn't get to tell her what she needed, wanted, or deserved. No one did. Belle was done. Done with being defined by everyone else. She was not just a daughter, a girlfriend, a friend, a librarian, and she certainly was not an object. She was her own person, period. She defined herself.
She raised her head and met his eyes. She held steady and refused to flinch.
"The only thing I need is a copy of my lease for the apartment above the library. City Hall will contact you about the lease for the library."
She took a deep breath and this time she knew it was real. This was her decision. There was no trickery, manipulation, amnesia, or curses involved.
"Belle, please. I can change. Everything I do is to make a better world for you and-"
"The world is already good. Here or there. It is funny, anytime you try something nefarious, it is a smashing success. When you say you'll change or use your power for good, or be better for me or your son or the future, you fail. If you even try at all."
She turned on her heel and walked away. She unlocked the door, opened it, then paused.
"Goodbye, Mister Gold."
She left him behind in the shop. If he called out to her, she didn't hear it.
She was free.
Free to do with her life as she wanted. Free to love and be loved. Free to be herself. Free for the first time in her life.
She was Belle French, and she was finally free.
The library opened at noon. Belle had her work cut out for her! There was barely time to shower and dress herself, let alone prepare the space.
She rushed through her grooming routine and ran through the checklist in her head. She wanted everything to be perfect.
Storybrooke deserved something positive to balance out the tragedy. The library wouldn't bring back lost loved ones, or heal broken hearts. It would give them an escape. A moment of peace in the storm. It was a place for everyone to read, learn, and grow. A place where their history and future could coexist.
She was pulling on her heel, one hand on the couch to balance, when there was a knock at the door.
Who?
She heard the key jangle in the lock, and the door that led outside opened.
Belle prepared to give Rumplestiltskin another piece of her mind.
"Belle?"
Rory poked her head through the gap in the door.
"Hello. Sorry. I borrowed Mulan's key. She can't make it up those stairs!"
Belle slid her shoe on and relaxed. Aurora and Mulan had been at the hospital all night too. Aurora looked as tired as she felt.
"We're all downstairs. Mulan borrowed some clothes from Ruby. I have no idea how they got into Ruby's room. The diner is a mess!"
Rory's clothes were a mess. She wore a pair of too-big scrub pants and a baggy sweatshirt that had a cartoon moose on it. There was a stain of unknown origin across the stomach.
"Of course. Come in. Do you want to borrow some clothes? Take a shower, maybe?"
Rory's eyes went wide. She looked thrilled at the offer, but hesitated.
"Do we have time for that before noon?"
"What?"
What did Rory mean? We?
Rory grinned.
"I told you, silly goose! We're all down by the front door. Ruby's already got this big ribbon ready to put up. Granny brought some sandwiches and sodas from the store. Mulan needs to rest, but she's here. We're all here to help you."
Her friends were there to help her.
She smiled, and her heart hummed with happiness.
"We'll make time to get you out of those clothes."
More hands, Granny grumbled, made less work.
Belle wasn't sure she would have been able to pull it off by herself.
The library had, thankfully, not suffered any major damage. A few books had fallen from their shelves and a couple of windows cracked.
Storybrooke's utility teams had restored electricity early that morning. So a quick run-through with a broom and dust cloth took care of most of the issues.
"Well, Girl-"
Granny directed both Ruby and Mulan to sit behind the circulation desk.
"-this is your show."
Belle nodded. Her library. Her show. Her life.
"Right, of course. Granny, can you please put the clothes down on those two tables and set up all the snacks?"
Grumpy and Dopey had helped move extra tables downstairs yesterday.
"Aurora, can you please help me with some chairs?"
Marco had delivered several chairs earlier this week.
"Ruby-"
Amazing Ruby whose smile lit up Belle's life.
"-can you show Mulan how to use the circulation desk software?"
Time flew. They set up and polished everything with five minutes to spare.
They'd added two extra tables at the last minute. The smaller table held a simple cardboard box for donations. The second table was larger, and its contents tugged at Belle's heart.
The second table held seven flickering candles. Six were for the people who'd died. The last one was for poor Connie Deluka, who had finally succumbed to her injuries late last night.
Belle wished she'd had time to get pictures of the people or even flowers. The candles and their names written on cards would have to do.
"It's a sweet sentiment."
Ruby wrapped her arm around her waist.
"I'm sure everyone will appreciate it."
Belle rested her head on Ruby's shoulder. She had caught a second (or was it a third now?) wind, but she was still tired. She had no idea how she was going to survive the day, or if anyone would show up at all.
"The news van is here."
Aurora peeked through the window.
"And oh my goodness! There are so many people!"
Belle tugged at her skirt. It was a long black and gray checked pencil skirt. She fiddled with her broad white shirt collar. Even though she also had a bright blue blazer over it, she worried she'd under (or over?) dressed. She hadn't realized there would be cameras.
"You look amazing."
Ruby pressed a kiss to her temple.
"You made this happen. I am so proud of you! Go open your library."
Belle's heart was warm and full to bursting. Ruby lavished her with praise and pride and did it with a big smile.
"I suppose I am good at all this stuff."
She smirked when Ruby blushed and shrugged. The mighty werewolf was so silly sometimes. It made butterflies dance in Belle's stomach.
Belle took a deep breath and unlocked the front doors. She ducked under the ceremonial red ribbon.
"Hello!" She waved and felt ridiculous.
She saw at least thirty people, not counting reporters.
A couple of the gathered people joined her at the door.
Belle felt a little better when she wasn't everyone's sole focus.
The man on her left was the deputy mayor, OisÃn Binner. He was a gangly man, all legs, arms, and neck. He had a prominent nose and sparse salt and pepper hair. His voice was high, nasal, and had a sharp Northern accent.
He had served under Regina as Queen and Mayor and was, Belle had gathered, deeply loyal to her. Loyalty aside, he had been an enormous help. Binner was fantastic with paperwork, bureaucratic processes, and budgeting. He'd helped her track down the best catalog and circulation programs available. He'd helped her with tips and tricks to make everything as efficient as possible.
He shook her hand and gave her a big smile.
"Miss French. I am so excited to be here to help open the Storybrooke Free Public Library."
At least three people with cameras jockeyed for position and clicked their cameras. Another person pointed a video camera at them too. People spilled out over the covered sidewalk along the building and onto the road.
Belle felt like all eyes were on her. It was disconcerting and uncomfortable. She would much rather be inside.
"Well." Oison let her hand go and motioned towards the ribbon. "Go ahead, Miss French."
Amanpreet, the man in charge of Parks and Rec handed her a pair of oversized gold scissors and then gave her a big bear hug. He was her supervisor and an enthusiastic volunteer. He had helped her organize and set up all the groups, activities, and lessons. He was warm, gregarious, and was as happy to help fill out paperwork as he was to move heavy shelves and tables for her.
Belle cut the ribbon and the two halves fluttered to the ground. Everyone applauded.
The day went by in a blur!
The refreshments, handled by Granny, stayed in the foyer. There would be no food or drinks spilling on their books today.
Ruby, Mulan, and Aurora manned (or woman'd in this case) the main desk.
Honestly, Mulan should rest but was stubborn and on guard. Even one night in the hospital had been too much for her. She was quite good with the computer, though. Better than Belle!
Since she knew everyone in town, Ruby filled out forms and answered questions.
Aurora had made fast friends with the printer and the laminating machine. She made and handed every card to every person there.
It was a parade of people and activities. Every event filled up to capacity and more!
This was beyond Belle's best expectations. The children loved the reading groups. Preschool Story Time, Beginner-Read-Along, and the Little Readers Club were all a hit. That was all before three!
There were adult-centric activities too. There was the first session of the Storybrooke Oral History Project. They were collecting people's stories from the old world. The Ladies Book Club relocated from Nellie McDuff's parlor to the library. They'd discussed this month's selection and appreciated the extra space.
Belle gave tours every fifteen minutes. Everyone wanted to see everything. She showed them the books, of course. There were also other amenities. There were meeting rooms, quiet study rooms, and a couple of classrooms. There was even a space where she wanted to build a stage for community theater.
It was all ambitious, but if today's turnout was any indication, it would be a success!
It was not all confetti and congratulations, though. People left donations and often lingered at the tables to pay their respects. As the afternoon continued, people brought pictures and small tokens and the table. It was now a small shrine, and Belle was so glad people had the space to create it.
Many people checked in with Ruby and Mulan to wish them well or to thank them for their service to the town.
People lingered in small groups to chat about anything and everything. The painful past, the pivotal present, and the foreboding future. They were tense, anxious, and suspicious. They were also armed.
Belle wouldn't say anything now, there were ogres and mad sorceresses on the prowl. As soon as things calmed down, a no-weapons policy would go up. She'd have Emma or even Regina help enforce it if she had to.
There wasn't a moment to breathe. Granny shoved a sandwich into each of their hands at some point. Things picked up around four when the older children arrived.
The kids, especially the teens, loved the computer lab. Several signed up for the coding classes and language classes.
Everything was exactly as she'd dreamed and-
"Hello there, Isabelle."
Only two people in Storybrooke called her that. Granny and-
She turned around slowly, steeling herself with every millisecond it took to move.
Maurice French, most called him Moe now, was the town's only florist. He was a former merchant risen to noble and her father.
"Father."
The last time they'd interacted, he'd tried to send her out of town to wipe her memory and make her "cursed".
She'd asked Regina what or whom her cursed personality would be. The other woman had shrugged, admitted she didn't know, then smirked. Her face belonged more to the queen than the mayor.
"You would have been a bad girl. A rebel-rousing, hard-partying schemer. A coworker-turned-playmate for Miss Lucas."
The humor that twinkled in Regina's dark eyes undercut the over-the-top seductive face. It also covered up her discomfort. She didn't know the answer and did not like it. Belle was starting to understand Regina, learning to read her like, well, a book.
She could not decipher the look on her own father's face now. He was, to continue the idiom, a closed book. She hadn't seen him in weeks. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Storybrooke had changed. She had changed. He, of course, had changed too.
Maurice was still in his work clothes. Soil stained his tawny breeches-pants and the plain cotton work shirt. He had a sweat-stained cap twisted in one hand and a beautiful bouquet in the other.
His shop, Game of Thorns, suited him well. It married his business mind and his passion for plants.
Their last parting had not been kind. She'd been short with him. No, she'd been furious with him. Pissed off. He'd abducted and tried to brainwash her. In any other time and place, that would be a fantastic and unspeakable act. In Storybrooke it was Tuesday.
Belle was still angry. He'd wanted to keep her a prisoner too. If he thought she would run back to him to cower and cry, he was mistaken. She had come too far and worked too diligently to do that. She would not return to being Maurice's quiet, obedient, picture-perfect little lady.
"Father."
He shifted from foot to foot.
"Isabelle. I -"
He thrust the flowers at her.
"Your-this library. It is wonderful. I-"
Belle took the flowers. They were bright red amaryllis and pure white gladiolus. I'm proud of you, and you have a strong character. Pretty flowers and sentiments. He was trying. She handed the flowers to Aurora, who promised to get them into a vase immediately.
"Would you like the tour?"
Maurice's face lit up in a smile. It was something she hadn't seen in years. It seemed like he hadn't smiled like that since she was a child.
"Come along, then. There is a lot to see."
She led him around. She went through her now very familiar speech. She didn't linger in the children's or young adults' section. She personalized the tour as best she could. She steered her father towards the horticultural books (Dewey Decimal 700s). Based on his love of hearing old adventure stories by the fire, she showed him the fiction. When he lingered and looked over the shelves, she knew she'd made the right choice.
"Of course, we have a small collection of books that came over from the Old World too. I've been scouring the town for any books that came through. Regina promises to help me make copies of privately owned books too. I'm also launching a program to accept personal manuscripts to be bound and kept in our library. Old family histories, recipes, mythologies, important things. Stories-"
"-never die."
Maurice finished the sentence for her. It had been one of her mother's favorite turn of phrase.
They ended the tour back where they had started, by the circulation desk. The flowers her father brought sat front and center. Aurora's doing, she was sure.
"So, that is all, it isn't much, but-"
Her father grabbed her hands. They were warm and calloused with dirt embedded deep into the creases and lines of his palms.
"It is amazing."
He smiled again and shook her hands for emphasis.
"Your Mother would love it. We are-I am so proud of you. I'm glad that you are-"
He looked around, taking everything in.
"-you. That you've found your place in town."
His eyes darted to Ruby behind the desk.
"That you have um-"
He was still staring at Ruby.
"-friends."
His tone let Belle know that he knew that she and Ruby were more than friends.
He smiled again, almost as if he approved.
"Your mother would like her, you know. She was always fascinated by the Children of the Moon. When we were young, she would get so excited when the Romani traders came around. She loved stories about full moon matings and rescuing damsels by moonlight. Fairy Tales, but she loved them. She'd want to fill up your shelves with stories."
Belle hugged him.
"Thank You."
Tears stung her eyes and she tried valiantly to not let them fall. She didn't have time for a cry, or to fix her makeup.
"I love you, Isabelle. No matter how far you go or where we are, I love you."
Belle really was going to cry.
"I love you too, Papa."
"Oh, I hate to break this up!"
A familiar voice cut through their moment.
She turned and recognized the speaker instantly. His smile and gleaming bald head were unmistakable. Archer Hart would stand out in a crowd, even if he didn't co-host Good Morning Storybrooke.
"I'm Hart Archer from GMS."
He introduced himself with a flourish.
" I need to steal the woman of the hour!"
He motioned his head to the woman with a camera and microphone standing by to record.
Oh, bother! She wasn't a speech-maker. That was Regina's and Snow White's forte, not hers! Still, the library needed all the attention it could get. Besides, it would be nice to see something on the television that was a replay of yesterday's disaster.
"Of course."
She turned back to her father.
"Papa, I-"
There was so much left unsaid and she.
"Go."
His smile was still wide and happy.
"We'll talk more later."
Archer clapped and then rubbed his hands together.
"Great. Let's step over here by this metal mural. It is a fantastic background!"
If he only knew. The mural that hid the elevator to the caves and mines. Of course.
The interview wasn't terrible. Hart asked questions about the library and the programs and events she was planning. He was upbeat and pleasant. Belle wasn't sure what to do with herself. It felt like attending court for the first time all over again.
"And one last question. Why did you continue with the opening today? After yesterday's events-"
The camera woman moved around to show the memorial table. panned over to the memorial table.
"-some people think that this celebration might be in poor taste."
Belle frowned, opened her mouth to defend herself, but then stopped. She took a breath and looked around. She saw Mulan, still bruised and bandaged, talking to a young man at the circulation desk. She saw Aurora leaning over Ruby's shoulder learning about the computer. She saw people, a mix of all kingdoms and social classes, mingling together.
"Well, I do not think it is in poor taste. I won't let anyone stop me from living my new life and part of that is this library. This is a place for our community to come together, to share, to learn, and to grow. Our town doesn't have to run and hide from trouble and danger. We proved that yesterday."
She looked at Ruby. The other woman caught her eye, smiled, and gave her a thumbs up. r.
"Together we are Storybrooke Strong and that's what today is about. Thank you, Hart."
She gave him, and the camera, one last smile
"I have to get back to work."