True Beauty Part 8

Belle hurried on through the forest, cradling the mirror to her chest like a talisman. Was it her imagination or could she feel it humming as she ran; like it was signalling to her that she was going the right way?

"Papa?" She called out again and again. "Papa?" Then, rounding a clump of thickly knotted trees, she let out a gasp. "Papa!"

Maurice was lying face down on the ground. He didn't look to be injured, just exhausted, but Belle knew that if she didn't get him home soon, he could become seriously ill. "It's alright, Papa," she murmured, helping him to his feet. Maurice looked at her, deliriously, and muttered something that sounded like "Chicken soup with peas..." Belle shook her head, fondly. "Oh, Papa, whatever possessed you to come out here?" she muttered, leading him back in the direction of the house.

Once inside, Belle led her Papa over to his armchair beside the fireplace and stoked the fire until it was roaring in the grate. Then, she helped him out of his damp travelling cloak and wrapped him in a blanket. Pulling off her own cloak, she ran to get a bowl of water and a cloth and there she sat by the fire, mopping his brow until he finally opened his eyes and looked at her properly.

"Belle?"

"Yes, Papa; I'm home."

"Oh, Belle; I thought I'd never see you again!" Maurice exclaimed, hugging her. Belle returned the embrace, happy to be back in her Papa's arms. "I missed you so much," she told him.

"But Rumplestiltskin!" Maurice pulled away from her. "How on Earth did you escape?"

"Escape?" Belle repeated. "I didn't; Papa, he let me go."

"That beast?"

"Don't call him that, Papa. He's really not, deep down. I've spent some time with him. He's really very charming and kind and sometimes scared. I think he was just lonely when I first met him."

"Hmph!" was all Maurice replied.

Belle looked at him seriously. "Papa, he saved my life. Twice."

"He saved your life?"

Belle nodded. "His temper scared me once so much that I ran into the forest and was attacked by wolves. Another time I fell off a ladder in his dining hall. Both times he saved my life, Papa. A beast wouldn't have done that. And he gave me my own library; imagine, Papa!" She smiled. "A whole library all to myself! Just for me! And he gave me a rose. And this." She held up the mirror. "It helped me find you."

Maurice took the mirror from her and looked up into his daughter's face. "It's impossible."

"No, it isn't, Papa; you just tell the mirror what you want to see and it show you-"

"I meant that...man," Maurice managed to correct himself just in time. "Belle, don't you see?"

"See what, Papa?"

His eyes met hers. "No man would do all that for a girl, Belle, unless he cared about her with all his heart."

"You mean-?"

Belle was inturrupted by a knock on the door. "Who on Earth-?" she muttered. She got to her feet and pulled open the door. Standing outside was a man that she had never seen before in her life. He was an old man with thin limbs and a twisted, cruel face. Belle felt a shiver of fear tingle down her spine as sh held the door. "May I help you, sir?"

"I've come to collect your father," the man drawled.

"My father?" Belle repeated, confused.

"Don't worry," the man replied, smiling as he drew back to reveal a cart behind him surrounded by many villagers that Belle recognised. The letters on the cart read "Maison D'Loon." "We'll take good care of him," the man continued.

Belle gave a gasp of outrage. "My Papa's NOT crazy!" she snapped, starting towards the man, who seemed unperturbed by her advance.

"Hah!" yelled a voice in the crowd and she recognised Lefou. "He was raving like a lunatic the other night! Ah, Maurice!" he added as Maurice joined his daughter at the door. "Tell us again, old man. Just how terrifying was this so called beast?"

Belle turned white in shock. "Papa? You told them?"

"I thought I'd never see you again, Belle. I wanted their help in rescuing you, but no one would listen to me."

"Go on!" Lefou goaded. "Tell us; what colour skin did he have again?"

"Grey!" Maurice cried. "And his nails were sharp as knives and he was covered in scales!"

The townsfolk laughed. "Well, you don't get any crazier than that!" Lefou yelled and they all nodded in agreement.

"I'm not crazy!" Maurice insisted as two orderlies began to drag him towards the cart. "Take your hands off me!"

"No, you can't do this!" Belle cried, grabbing the shoulder of the cart owner, but he shrugged her off.

"Poor Belle," said a voice behind her. She turned, seeing a ray of hope as Gaston stepped from the shadows. He put his arm around her shoulders. "Oh, it's a shame about your father."

"You know he's not crazy, Gaston!" Belle pleaded, grabbing his shirt. "Please help us!"

"Well, I might be able to clear up this little misunderstanding," Gaston replied, scratching his chin. "If..."

"If what?" Belle asked.

"If you marry me."

"What?!"

"One little word, Belle, that's all it takes!"

"Never!" Belle cried, wriggling away from him.

"Have it your way!" he snapped, walking away from her. Belle watched her father attemp to grapple with the two men escorting him away. She could see only one chance for her Papa now. She flew back into the house, snatching up the mirror and ran back to the porch.

"My Papa's NOT crazy, and I can prove it!" she shouted, causing everyone to look at her. Belle grasped the mirror by the handle desparately. Please work, she thought. "Show me Rumplestiltskin!"

Everyone gasped as the mirror glowed and then Belle saw him, in the West Wing, desparately tossing around whatever he could lay his hands on, evidently irritated (or even pained) by something. She could see him clear as day; and so could the villagers.

"That's him!" Maurice cried, freeing himself from his shocked captors and pointing to the mirror.

"Is he dangerous?" a woman in the crowd cried.

"Oh, no!" Belle cried. "No, he'd never hurt anyone! Please, I know he looks...different but he's really very kind and gentle and understanding. He's my friend," she added, looking into the mirror.

"If I didn't know better," Gaston snarled, turning her roughly to face him, "I'd say you had feelings for this beast!"

"He's not the beast, Gaston; you are!" Belle snapped, jerking away from him, unable to stand the feel of his harsh, coarse hands against her skin. Rumplestiltskin had never, never held her as roughly as that.

Gaston's eyes narrowed and suddenly Belle was afraid. "She's as crazy as the old man!" he snapped, snatching the mirror from her grip. "She says this creature is her friend, but does he look friednly to you people? He will make off with your children; come after them in the night!"

"No!" Belle cried, as gasps flew up from the crowd again. "No, he would never-!"

But her protests were in vain as Gaston shouted "Forget the old man; I say we kill the beast!"

Belle threw herself at him, trying to grapple the mirror back from him. "No! I won't let you do this, Gaston!"

"If you're not with us, you're against us!" he snarled, peeling her hand off as if she were nothing but a piece of lace and catching her arm in a vice-like grip. "Bring the old man!"

Before Belle could make sense of what was happening, Gaston had tossed them both into their coal celler and locked the door. "Let us out!" she shouted, hammering at the door. Rumplestiltskin had never locked her in anywhere.

But, again, her cries were in vain as the villagers, led by Gaston, began to make their way towards the Dark Castle. Belle attempted to break through the lock but it was no good; the door was bolted from the outside. "I have to get back and warn Rumplestiltskin!" she cried. "Oh, this is all my fault! I'm so foolish! Papa, what do we do?"

Sensing her distress, Maurice hugged her. "Now, now, we'll think of something." It wasn't what he had expected; for his daughter to fall for a man such as Rumplestiltskin was, but if she was happy with him and he made her happy then, really, that was all Maurice wanted for her. And Rumplestiltskin being dead would make her the complete opposite of happy.

"Hello? Belle?"

Belle looked up, startled. "What?"

"It's me!" the voice chirped. "Chip!"

"Chip?" Belle almost cried with relief. "How did you get here?"

"I followed you! Belle, why did you go away? Don't you like us any more?"

"Oh, Chip, of course I do! I just left to help my Papa!"

"Oh!"

"Chip, can you get us out of here? Can you unbolt the door?"

"No problem!"

No sooner has he said it, than it was done and Belle scrabbled out of the cellar. "We've got to hurry!" she cried. "We have to warn Rumplestiltskin and the others!"

"Sacre bleu!" Lumiere exclaimed at the sight of the villagers storming towards the castle.

"Oh, Lumiere; whatever shall we do?" cried Fifi the feather duster.

"Wait! I have it!"

While Lumiere laid the plan to the others, Mrs Potts hurried to the West Wing. Everything was in disarray but now Rumplestiltskin was simply sitting in front of the belljar. He had removed his jacket but that was as far as he had got before he had simply sunk into the chair and not moved since.

"Master!" Mrs Potts cried.

"Leave me in peace," he muttered, staring at the rose.

"But, sir; that castle is under attack!"

"It doesn't matter now, Mrs Potts. Let them come." For now, without Belle, he chose death.

However, the enchanted servants were not ones to give up easily; and when the mob broke into the castle, everyone fought back as best as they could. Madame de la Grande Bouche used her drawers and doors to knock out several of the intruders. Lumiere used his fire power on many of them. Mrs Potts and the teacups attacked with scalding hot tea. The footstool ran away with one of the villager's shoes, elading many of them into the kitchen where they were scared away by the sharp chopping knives and fiery stove. Even Cogsworth played his part; sliding down the stairs in a Napolean hat and prodding Lefou with a pair of scissors right up the, well, let's just say that he wouldn't be able to sit down for a while afterwards.

But Gaston was able to evade their counter attack and he managed to make it up to the West Wing. Rumplestiltskin glanced at him as he came in, unafraid of the phsychotic glare in his eyes or the arrow aiming straight at him. Do it, he thought, turning away from the stranger; put me out of my misery.

A sharp searing pain in his shoulder as the arrow struck its mark caused him to leap from his seat, writhing with the pain. Just as he was able to remove the arrow from his shoulder, Gaston cannoned into him, knocking him out onto the balcony. Recovering slighty, Rumplestiltskin just had time to blink at him before he felt the tip of Gaston's hunting knife press against his chest.

"What's the matter, beast?" cackled Gaston. "Too kind and gentle to fight back?"

Why won't you just let me die instead of torturing me? Rumplestiltskin thought. Everything I had to live for is gone now.

Gaston raised the dagger and Rumplestiltskin was preparing himself for death, sweet death, when he heard a voice below cry out "No!" He turned his head and saw Belle standing in the courtyard; Maurice at her side, holding Chip. "Belle?" he whispered, in confusion.

"No! Gaston; don't!" Belle begged.

The knife came down, but now new strength flowed into Rumplestiltskin as he had reason to live again. I have to live, he thought, for her; I need to tell her I love her. His hand flew up, staying Gaston's arm and the two men fought against one another, using their strengths aganst the other until Rumplestiltskin finally knocked Gaston to his knees. The knife flew from Gaston's hand but he scrabbled towards it, slithering on his belly like a serpant. Rumplestiltskin looked around and spotted his own curved dagger on the floor. In an instant it was in his hand and he kicked Gaston's knife away from him, planting his foot on the attacking man's wrist. Gaston looked up at the tip of the dagger at his throat and winced.

"Let me go!" he gasped, suddenly afraid. "Let me go! Please, please, don't kill me!"

He could have and in that minute he wanted to. But Gaston's words echoed Belle's the day he had first met her. "Please, please, don't keep my Papa locked up here," she had begged. Belle. His Belle. His beautiful, kind, sweet, forgiving, loving Belle. She wouldn't want him to kill. So he wouldn't. For her.

"Go!" Rumplestiltskin hissed.

"What?" Gaston whispered.

"Go! Leave now while you still have the chance!" Rumplestiltskin withdrew his dagger and backed away. He threw it neatly at Gaston's feet where it stuck up quivering in the floorboards between the man's legs. "Go!" Rumplestiltskin repeated.

The door flew open. "Rumplestiltskin!" Belle cried, hurrying towards him.

He turned, relief filling him. "Belle!"

Without another word, she flew into his waiting arms. She was real; she was really here; his Belle. "You came back?" he whispered into her hair.

She smiled and pulled back slightly to look at him as he cupped her face gently with one hand. "I came home," she said.

He was ready to kiss her; he had been ready to kiss her for a long, long time and she waited for it; but sudden pain seared through his side. He let out a cry and doubled over. Belle gasped. Gaston had retreived Rumplestiltskin's dagger from the floor and delivered a fatal wound. "No!" she gasped as Rumplestiltskin fell to the floor. "Gaston! What have you done?"

"I have won!" Gaston crowed, stepping backwards in triumph. But he slipped on his hunting knife and Belle watched, unable to move, as he pitched straight over the balcony and down into the courtyard below.