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It was the perfect day for Belle French.
Waking up to a sunny breakfast of hot pancakes with Ruby at Granny’s, then a fun-filled afternoon spent with Miss Blanchard at the elementary school’s book fair, followed by a full on upheaval of scrounging for the leftovers. Belle had been loaned a little red wagon to tote the books in as she took them back to the library, tottering a bit in her burgundy high heels to keep her balance whenever the rickety wheels caught on the cracks of the sidewalk. It would not have been so trying, had she not been attempting to balance another stack in her other arm. With her thoughts on how exactly she was going to reach her keys to unlock the library, with her arms so full, Belle didn’t hear the rushing traffic of feet as she rounded the corner at the front of the clocktower until the sudden slam of another body collided with her and sent her reeling back to land hard on the cement.
Her books fell across the sidewalk and over the curb, but Belle was so jarred by the collision that she felt too dizzy to even be upset. A young boy ducked into her line of vision before kneeling down quickly, words bubbling in a nervous, shrill string over the ringing in her ears, “I’m so sorry-oh, gods, I’m so sorry!”
Belle focused on the boy’s face, blinking the disorientation away as she looked up at him. He was young, with a sweet, youthful face and a pair of warm dark brown eyes under a mop of unruly, fluffled brown hair. “It’s alright...” she murmured, shaking her head slowly and rubbing her neck.
“Here-here, let me help you, please,” the boy begged, reaching out with both hands. Belle took his offer and stumbled up on unsteady legs, smiling gratefully when he tried to keep her balanced, his hands on her elbows.
“Thank you, I’m alright,” she said, and warmed at his little smile. It was only then she saw his clothing, raggedy and worn, loose pants and a tunic that were more reminiscent of another time and place. Suspicion immediately alighted in her, and Belle narrowed her eyes. “...you don’t look familiar. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?”
The boy glanced over his shoulder the way he’d come from, a nervous energy sparking through him that held him incapable of being still. “I’m no one,” he murmured, his voice hushed.
“Oh, you’re someone,” before he could escape, Belle took hold of the shoulder of his tunic, bending so they were eye level. Softening in the face of his obvious disarray, Belle asked gently, “Are you in trouble? I can help.”
“No!” the boy stuttered, his eyes widening. “No- thank you, but no, I can handle it myself.”
Staring at him uneasily, Belle gasped when she saw a rivulet of dark red making its way down the side of his face. “Oh, no,” she whispered, touching his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
He jumped at the contact, his hand immediately following hers and smearing the red on his cheek a bit. His face went pale at the blood. “It’s-It's nothing-"
“Oh, no, you’re coming with me, and I’m going to fix that. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong and what kind of trouble you’re in,” Belle said firmly, frowning harder than she could remember having ever done so. Stubbornness forbid her from giving in or brushing anything off like a hurt child, especially when she finally could do something about it. She’d seen boys his age sent off to fight in a war they were too young to have ever understood, but now she could help, even if it was just as small as fetching a band aid. At the fear in his eyes, she added softly, “So that I can help you.”
The boy shifted from foot to foot apprehensively, and, after another quick glance over his shoulder, asked, “W-Where are you taking me?”
An echo from a lifetime ago hollowed Belle’s heart at the words, the same words she’d asked once. With a small, if sad smile, she knelt down and picked up her scattered books, saying, “To a friend. We’ll fix your head and go from there,” Belle stopped, before lacing her fingers together as she bent down in front of him to catch his eyes, “Because you’re not from here, are you? You’re... from our world.”
The boy stared at her, his mouth agape and his eyes widening. Seeing his fear, she took his hand between hers and whispered, “It’s all right, you don’t have to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you. We’re all from there, you see; all of us. Well, it’s kind of a long story...” biting her lip, she squeezed his hand and gave a firm nod, smiling encouragingly, “But don’t worry, you’re safe now.”
Hesitating, the boy slowly began to nod, gulping as she let go of him. She straightened up on shaky legs, arranging a few of the books in her arms before the boy stepped forward and gently took a hefty sum of them from her, smiling bashfully from under shaggy hair. She knelt quickly to pick up the handle to the wagon, answering with a kind smile of her own, a lightness filling her entire body at the sweet shyness of the boy before her. She began walking up to the door of the library, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Belle.”
The boy almost said something, but thought better of it and kept quiet.
After they deposited the books behind the circulation desk, Belle took the boy’s hand (which he seemed all too comfortable with) and crossed the street, walking with him to Granny’s Diner. He fidgeted at her side, and kept glancing nervously with his dark eyes at things-a passing car, a barking dog, and nearly jumped right out of his shoes at the sound of the clocktower chiming. Belle felt a surge of pity for the child, clearly dumped into a world he had no knowledge of. She wanted to ask hundreds of questions about how he’d gotten himself to Storybrooke from the Enchanted Forest, but she knew the feeling of the overwhelming onslaught of confusion waking up in a world one didn’t understand.
Instead, she squeezed his hand reassuringly and offered him another smile before leading him around the back of the diner, slipping through the washing room and into the back of the kitchen. Ruby whirled through the swinging door, skidding to a stop in her flashy red heels right in front of them. Belle put her arm around the boy, giving a breathy laugh at Ruby’s surprise and the boy’s clear shock.
“Um... hi,” the girl in red frowned between her friend and the child, setting the tray with empty glasses on the counter. She wiped her hands on the rag she had stuck in the back pocket of her jeans, glancing between the two. “Who’s this, Belle?”
“This is a friend, and I’m going to buy him lunch,” Belle explained calmly. “We had a bit of a scuffle, too, and he needs a band aid.”
“Oh,” Ruby brightened, flashing a gleaming smile at the boy. “Okay. What do you want?”
The boy blinked uncertainly, glancing up at Belle for help.
“Hamburgers, for both of us,” Belle said quickly, smiling at Ruby as she went to fetch the first aid kit. She looked down at him, promising, “You’ll love them.”
Watching the boy tear into the hamburger, Belle thought he’d love any food. He ate ravenously, as if he hadn’t had a good meal in weeks. That thought troubled her. Rumpelstiltskin was trying to find a way across the border, while others were trying to find a way to get back to the Enchanted Forest. If people knew there was a boy who’d made it here, would they try to get back using the way he’d come? Conversation was lulled to Belle asking questions and the boy nodding or shaking his head, his mouth too stuffed to give a proper answer.
“Are you alone?”
A nod.
“Are you hurt?”
A shake.
“Where are your parents?”
A shrug.
Ruby brought him a milkshake, and Belle instantly brightened, sitting forward. “Oh, try it like this!” she said, and took one of the fries from her plate and swiped it into the creamy confection between the whipped cream and the ice cream. Popping it in her mouth, the boy watched her with wide, stunned eyes before mutely obeying and following her example. He squirmed, blinking rapidly and his face screwed up and coughing.
“That’s cold!”
“I probably should’ve warned you,” Belle admitted, wincing. “I’m sorry.”
“But...” he took another french fry and did it again, smiling crookedly. “But it is really good, Miss Belle.”
“A friend showed me,” Belle shrugged, smiling with a wrinkled nose and twinkling eyes. “We didn’t have these kinds of things where we come from.”
The boy smiled, eating another french fry. “No, not at all. Or the other place.”
“Other place?”
He jumped, as if he hadn’t realized he’d spoken to begin with. At his sudden quiet, Belle took a deep breath. Folding her hands over one another before her on the table, she leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Tell me, please-what kind of trouble are you in? Perhaps I can help, or at least find you someone who can.”
The boy’s eyes rounded to the size of saucers from the intensity of her gaze, but he quickly swallowed his food before mirroring her own posture, and quietly answering, “I... was a bit of a stowaway.”
Belle tilted her head curiously.
“The ship,” the boy prompted, and at her continued silence, he sighed frustratedly and continued, “The pirate ship that docked this morning.”
“The... what?” Belle gave a little, breathless laugh, but at the boy’s serious face she blinked, raising her eyebrows. “...alright, the pirate ship. In the marina?”
He nodded.
“And there are actual pirates on this ship?” Belle hazarded doubtfully, and she could see the boy made to say something. Something that seemed to unnerve him and frighten him, but before he could, the diner’s door was thrown open, nearly off the hinges, the blinds rattling noisily and the little bell breaking off from the top of the threshold. From her stance behind the counter, Ruby was so stunned that the coffee pot she held slipped through her fingers, shattering on the floor.
Belle startled violently, turning to face the door to find a stunningly familiar face. Swathy and rough, he stood with a shadowy coat billowing his boots and a gleaming silver hook from beneath the heavy, ornate cuff underneath. His kohl lined eyes swept the humble diner before narrowing right upon Belle.
No.
Upon the boy.
With a devilish gleam in his eye, the pirate smirked, “Gotcha.”
Striding with heels clicking briskly on the tile, it was only a moment before he reached their table, but before he could make a grab for the boy, Belle found herself barring between them, both her arms keeping the child safely tucked behind her. Whether it was the blackened hunger in his eyes that she so clearly remembered in another darkened cell, or perhaps the vicious determination with which he crossed the room, overturning chairs and shoving people aside, it struck Belle enough to brace herself, her weight in her toes and her lip curling in distaste like a lioness ready to bare teeth.
The pirate skidded so quickly in his tracks that he nearly bowled all three of them over, his nose practically in Belle’s hair. For a moment, she was sure he was going to throw her aside again, but a smile lit his face, mirthless that did not reach his eyes. Belle was also quite sure that had his hand not been replaced with a hook, his fingers would be curled into a fist.
“See you found your way out of the queen’s hands,” the pirate said lightly, a smirk twisting his lips. “Fortunately, I’m not here for you today, pretty thing. I’m just here for the boy.”
“Is that supposed to reassure me of your intentions?” Belle asked, tilting her chin defiantly. “Shockingly, it doesn’t.”
“I really don’t care how you feel about it either way, darling,” Captain Hook purred, his eyes imploringly attempting to see around Belle to the child. She took a step back cautiously, and when the boy began to lead her backwards, Belle slipped her hand down behind her and caught his fingers, squeezing gently. Hook gave another breathless chuckle that held no humor, glancing up beneath his lashes. “You stand between a man and his revenge. Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“You stand between me and a sharp point,” a voice barked, and everyone in the diner turned to see Granny, braced against the edge of the counter, crossbow in arm and steadied atop the register, pointed decidedly at the pirate.
“Come, marm, do we have to do this?” asked the captain lazily, spreading his arms. “It’s just bad business, this is.”
In the brief moment he was distracted, Belle shoved the boy down behind the counter. Ruby met them at the edge, hissing, “Go! Out the back!”
Belle stopped, still gripping the boy’s hand, her eyes wide. “What about you?”
“Oh please, Granny and I are fine,” Ruby muttered, rolling her eyes and waving a lazy hand. “We’ve had to deal with bigger and badder things than a pirate with a hook for a hand. Go!”
They ran through the back of the kitchen, the loud rumble of overturning tables and the clatter of things thrown about, screams and shouts behind them. Belle led the boy back the way they’d come, keeping a tight hold on his hand the whole while. Stumbling into the alley, she looked from side to side before tugging him in the direction of the street, huffing, “This way!”
The boy ran after her loyally, glancing behind them. “Where are we going?”
“To someone who will protect you,” Belle said, short of breath only a few moments down the sidewalk from her ridiculous heels. They were flattering, but far too inconvenient for escape, if this was to always be her life. Sparing a brief moment of thought on the matter, she wasn’t impressed with the theme of it at all. It was better, she supposed, having someone with her this time as she clicked and clacked down the side of the street with the boy following along every step of the way. Not once did he attempt to stop her, nor did he question where she was taking him, which Belle found to either be endearingly sweet or very naive. He trusted her, a complete stranger! Though, with chagrin, Belle realized she was guilty of the same thing.
Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop was nestled just a couple blocks from the diner, but by the time they made it, tripping through the front door with the little bell merrily announcing their arrival, both were out of breath. Belle flipped the sign to ‘Closed’, dabbing her forehead with the back of her wrist where a light sheen of sweat had appeared. The shop was blanketed in quiet, and Belle took a calming breath as she pushed herself away from the door, walking towards the counter.
“Rumpelstiltskin?” Her voice trembled from her nervousness and excitement, and she so dearly hoped he hadn’t stepped out. He’d kept the door unlocked, though, so she knew he must be there. The quiet and familiar tap of his cane on the hardwood melted her bones in relief at once, and seeing his face, handsome in his dark suit, appear as he pushed aside the curtain of his office brought a smile of her own.
“Belle.” His voice was light and soft, pleasantly surprised, a smile lifting at the corner of his lips that never failed to make him look so much younger that he almost looked to be another person entirely. “You’re here early. I wasn’t expecting you ‘till-”
His dark eyes flickered over her shoulder, and Belle stepped forward, swallowing tightly. “Yes, you see, we’re in a bit of trouble,” she explained quickly, her eyes fastening onto his tie, a beautiful dark charcoal grey against the black shirt of his suit. “I made a friend today, and he’s in trouble-... I’m not sure who he is, truth be told, or how he got here, but I thought you-”
“Papa?”
The one, single word was a whisper, but it was powerful enough to knock the breath out of Belle and root Rumpelstiltskin to the spot. She turned haltingly, looking at the young boy standing uncertainly by the door, not having moved since he’d entered. For his part, Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t moved either, since seeing the child, and it only took a moment for Belle to realize perhaps why. The way their eyes both crinkled in the corners, the warmth in the honeyed brown color that was so very similar.
“Oh,” she whispered, leaning back against the glass counter, her hand flying to her mouth to smother a cry. “Oh.”
New York had been a failure. That’s all she had known when Rumpelstiltskin had returned from his trip with Miss Swan to what she’d called a city, a province or kingdom of vast tall buildings of steel and stone and glass with more people than she could ever count or imagine. He had been so melancholy and listless when he’d returned with nothing to show for it that Belle had worried over his health. She’d known people to die of broken hearts, to wilt and lose hope and vivacity for anything, and she was so tempted to ask what had happened...but she never did, only because whenever she’d gather her courage to do so, he’d looked like a dog ready to be picked. She could only ever take his hand in those close, quiet moments, and press her cheek to his shoulder.
Belle had been interested in going with him at the time, but he’d asked her to stay behind in case anything happened. At the time she hadn’t understood, but could see that he was scared-of the unknown and of a place he’d never been or didn’t understand. Now she could see those anxieties again playing on his face, the disbelief and pain and all consuming fear that crumbled his face. He was reduced to a small, trembling man, someone she had never seen before. Someone she didn’t know at all.
The boy (Baelfire, his name is Baelfire) was standing still as stone and seemed unable to move. He didn’t look particularly happy, as Belle thought any child might look, being reunited with his family (oh, how she knew that well). He looked just as scared as his father did, and confused as well. In fact, he looked ready to back up out of the little shop door and run. Perhaps facing a fearsome pirate with a hook was easier than meeting one’s past, if it was painful enough.
“Bae.” Rumpelstiltskin’s watery voice trembled, but it was so gentle that it broke Belle’s heart to hear. His son took a deep breath that shook him all over, his eyes misty as he blinked past his tears, and spoke so quietly that Belle couldn’t make out what he said.
Yet it didn’t stop Rumpelstiltskin’s cane from clattering to the floor as he hobbled forward as quickly as he could, his hands gripping the edge of the glass display case to hold himself up. Baelfire ran at his father, his face pinched in pain as he threw his arms around his waist, hugging the man as tightly as he could. The contact brought a cry from Mr. Gold, who fell as he grasped his son against his chest. His face crumpled in emotion, and the strength of his old legs gave out. It was all he could do to catch himself on the display case, sinking to the floor and falling over his son as he wept into his hair, choked, broken words of apology muffled into the boy’s fluffled hair, “My boy, my boy, Bae, Bae-”
Belle stood stock still, her mouth covered with her hand to keep quiet. The vulnerable tenderness of Rumpelstiltskin’s reunion with his son was not for her. Lifetimes of planning and pain and work and self hate poured into something that was supposed to be for good had finally been seen to. All the hate and darkness that had pushed everyone away from him to bring the one person back that he loved unconditionally...but it was not a moment for Belle to be apart of, and she knew that. With careful steps, she tiptoed around the back of the front desk and disappeared behind the curtain. She was quiet in her departure as she slipped out the back door of his office, smiling to herself when she could hear the soft voices from within.
That pirate, though, was still looking for Baelfire, and the diner had been left in shambles. With assurance that Rumpelstiltskin would be equipped for the former, Belle hurried down the alley around the shop to cut her way through back to Granny’s. As she disappeared behind the shop, though, a hand caught her about the throat and slammed her back against the wall.
“Not so fast, little Belle,” an elegant older woman swathed in glittering black lace and sapphire silk tisked. She wasn’t sure how the woman could hold her up off the ground, but felt heat at the gloved fingertips that pressed into her throat. The witch inclined her head, offering a smile like a cat that had found a prized canary, appraising her with dark eyes. “Belle the beauty. I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” she said, narrowing her eyes and speaking low and with egregious mirth. “I’d like to make a deal with you.”