OUaT: Stories, in the End (4/7)
Rating: PG (a little more language and violence than you'd find in Disney, and possibly a smidge more sex)
Word Count: 1,086
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Short chapter. Regina has her say, and there are some more feelings. Chapters posted every other day. For zombres.
Summary: Regina has been deposed, but the curse is still in force. Rumpelstiltskin fetches something very precious from her vaults. Then things get really interesting.
Chapter Three
She’s calm by the time they reach the police station, though she keeps her eyes off Rumpelstiltskin. She digs up a smile for Sheriff Swan when she sees her standing at a bulletin board.
The sheriff returns it, “Hey, glad to see you. I thought you might have changed your mind.”
“No, just running a little late.” Belle looks past Sheriff Swan, “Where is she?”
Her smile turns sly, “Step right this way, young lady, see the wicked queen held captive.” She holds up an arm, gesturing theatrically into the station’s main office.
Belle takes a short breath, and strides forward. Inside a cell in a far corner of the room, the Queen sits on a bare cot. She wears a baggy orange jumpsuit and stares at nothing. Belle gets within ten feet of her before she lazily turns her head. Then her entire body stiffens and her eyes flash with what could be fear that’s swiftly stifled.
“Hello,” Belle says, for lack of anything else.
The Queen doesn’t reply, but does look towards the office’s entrance where the sheriff and Rumpelstiltskin stand. Again, her eyes flash, and she goes back to staring at the wall.
“Hack one up whenever you feel like it, Belle,” Sheriff Swan says, “She won’t complain, will you, Regina?”
At the moment Belle doesn’t feel an overwhelming desire to spit on the Queen, but she does find some words to say. “You thought you could take me, and my father, and everyone away from their homes and trap them in this awful place. You will pay for every minute we’ve had to be here.”
The Queen fixes an empty gaze on her, and then on the sheriff and Rumpelstiltskin. “There’s something I want you to know,” she says to them.
“It speaks!” the sheriff declares.
The Queen gives her a brief, toxic smile. “There is a very practical consideration you haven’t made. You should be aware that not all of Storybrooke’s inhabitants are rich aristocrats or members of royalty. Mr. Morgenstern, the grocer? He’s not a king, or a lord, or a wizard. He’s a peasant, scraping a living out of infertile soil. His children go to bed hungry. His life expectancy ends at thirty. Here, he has a forty-hour work week plus holidays off. His children go to school, and he’s saving for their college educations. Will you send him back to that miserable farm? Or, would you let him choose for himself? Because I promise you he would choose the world with antibiotics and CSI marathons.” She gives a small laugh, “I mean, I thought you liked electricity and running water. I guess I was mistaken.”
Belle frowns and looks behind her. The sheriff’s expression is dark and alarmed, Rumpelstiltskin’s isn’t much better. “Belle,” he says, “Would you come with me, please?”
She casts one last glare at the Queen, who returns it, and walks back through the office’s entrance. Sheriff Swan and Rumpelstiltskin follow her.
“She wasn’t lying, was she,” the sheriff says, voice flat.
“She wasn’t,” Rumpelstiltskin replies.
“So?” Belle interjects, “We don’t belong here, none of us do.”
The sheriff turns to her, “Say that when your kids are starving back home.”
Belle pauses, swallows. She can’t deny that this world offers comforts the likes of which even she, a lord’s daughter, has never known, though she hasn’t experienced many of them. It’s not all that difficult to imagine someone choosing Storybrooke over home.
The sheriff sighs, “I could use a drink. Can’t wait until this guard duty ends.” She shifts her weight for a moment, then turns to Belle again, “Are you doing anything tonight?”
Belle blinks, “Um, no plans. Why?”
Sheriff Swan grins, though it’s drawn, “Well, you’ve been locked up practically since you came here. You never got to know the many charms of Storybrooke. And, not to brag, but I can introduce you to Snow White and Cinderella.”
“Oh, I’ve met them, a couple of times.”
“Back home?”
Belle nods.
“In that case, they’ll want to meet you for sure.” She turns to Rumpelstiltskin, “You don’t mind if I take her out, right, Gold?”
“Belle is free to do as she wishes,” he says, the very faintest trace of a smile glancing over his lips.
“Exactly, and about time too.” To Belle she says, “You can meet us at the bar on the corner over there, say nine o’clock?”
“Yes, all right.”
“Cool, I’ll let Mary Margaret and Ashley know. As for now, I better get back to my prisoner. I’ll have to figure out a babysitter for her. Maybe David’s interested. Anyway, see you tonight. Bye, Gold.”
“Goodbye.”
Once again Sheriff Swan leaves an awkward silence in her wake. Belle suppresses any urge to explain herself or apologize. Why should she? Rumpelstiltskin has no claim on her time, has made it clear he doesn’t want one.
“It’ll be good to see Snow White and Cinderella again. Maybe they’ll remember me.”
“Possibly.”
She’s about to ask which way is home when the words catch in her throat. Rumpelstiltskin’s house is not “home.” It never can be. She can’t keep beating herself against this wall. “Is that inn you mentioned near here?”
They meet each other’s gazes steadily. “Yes.”
“I think I might stay there from now on. I’ve imposed on you enough.” The words come easily. Who knew it was so simple to shred a heart?
“As you wish.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I keep the clothes. I don’t have any otherwise.”
“They’re yours. I’ll have the rest brought to you.”
“And I don’t have money to pay for a bed.”
“You won’t need any. At any rate, when the curse is broken it won’t matter.”
“That’s right. I’m going home soon.”
“You are.”
They walk to the inn, or “Granny’s Bed and Breakfast” as the sign calls it. The old woman at the front acts like Rumpelstiltskin is a demon come to plague her, and isn’t that what he was before all this? Belle’s been a fool for a long time. The old woman gives her a room key and makes good her escape.
Belle faces him once more. She drops a short curtsey. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Mr. Gold.”
He gives her a short nod.
She begins to walk away.
“Belle!”
She stops. Equal halves of her demand she turn and demand she keep walking. But when the tiniest glimmer of hope allows her to choose the former, all she finds is the door swinging shut.
Chapter Five
Word Count: 1,086
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Short chapter. Regina has her say, and there are some more feelings. Chapters posted every other day. For zombres.
Summary: Regina has been deposed, but the curse is still in force. Rumpelstiltskin fetches something very precious from her vaults. Then things get really interesting.
Chapter Three
She’s calm by the time they reach the police station, though she keeps her eyes off Rumpelstiltskin. She digs up a smile for Sheriff Swan when she sees her standing at a bulletin board.
The sheriff returns it, “Hey, glad to see you. I thought you might have changed your mind.”
“No, just running a little late.” Belle looks past Sheriff Swan, “Where is she?”
Her smile turns sly, “Step right this way, young lady, see the wicked queen held captive.” She holds up an arm, gesturing theatrically into the station’s main office.
Belle takes a short breath, and strides forward. Inside a cell in a far corner of the room, the Queen sits on a bare cot. She wears a baggy orange jumpsuit and stares at nothing. Belle gets within ten feet of her before she lazily turns her head. Then her entire body stiffens and her eyes flash with what could be fear that’s swiftly stifled.
“Hello,” Belle says, for lack of anything else.
The Queen doesn’t reply, but does look towards the office’s entrance where the sheriff and Rumpelstiltskin stand. Again, her eyes flash, and she goes back to staring at the wall.
“Hack one up whenever you feel like it, Belle,” Sheriff Swan says, “She won’t complain, will you, Regina?”
At the moment Belle doesn’t feel an overwhelming desire to spit on the Queen, but she does find some words to say. “You thought you could take me, and my father, and everyone away from their homes and trap them in this awful place. You will pay for every minute we’ve had to be here.”
The Queen fixes an empty gaze on her, and then on the sheriff and Rumpelstiltskin. “There’s something I want you to know,” she says to them.
“It speaks!” the sheriff declares.
The Queen gives her a brief, toxic smile. “There is a very practical consideration you haven’t made. You should be aware that not all of Storybrooke’s inhabitants are rich aristocrats or members of royalty. Mr. Morgenstern, the grocer? He’s not a king, or a lord, or a wizard. He’s a peasant, scraping a living out of infertile soil. His children go to bed hungry. His life expectancy ends at thirty. Here, he has a forty-hour work week plus holidays off. His children go to school, and he’s saving for their college educations. Will you send him back to that miserable farm? Or, would you let him choose for himself? Because I promise you he would choose the world with antibiotics and CSI marathons.” She gives a small laugh, “I mean, I thought you liked electricity and running water. I guess I was mistaken.”
Belle frowns and looks behind her. The sheriff’s expression is dark and alarmed, Rumpelstiltskin’s isn’t much better. “Belle,” he says, “Would you come with me, please?”
She casts one last glare at the Queen, who returns it, and walks back through the office’s entrance. Sheriff Swan and Rumpelstiltskin follow her.
“She wasn’t lying, was she,” the sheriff says, voice flat.
“She wasn’t,” Rumpelstiltskin replies.
“So?” Belle interjects, “We don’t belong here, none of us do.”
The sheriff turns to her, “Say that when your kids are starving back home.”
Belle pauses, swallows. She can’t deny that this world offers comforts the likes of which even she, a lord’s daughter, has never known, though she hasn’t experienced many of them. It’s not all that difficult to imagine someone choosing Storybrooke over home.
The sheriff sighs, “I could use a drink. Can’t wait until this guard duty ends.” She shifts her weight for a moment, then turns to Belle again, “Are you doing anything tonight?”
Belle blinks, “Um, no plans. Why?”
Sheriff Swan grins, though it’s drawn, “Well, you’ve been locked up practically since you came here. You never got to know the many charms of Storybrooke. And, not to brag, but I can introduce you to Snow White and Cinderella.”
“Oh, I’ve met them, a couple of times.”
“Back home?”
Belle nods.
“In that case, they’ll want to meet you for sure.” She turns to Rumpelstiltskin, “You don’t mind if I take her out, right, Gold?”
“Belle is free to do as she wishes,” he says, the very faintest trace of a smile glancing over his lips.
“Exactly, and about time too.” To Belle she says, “You can meet us at the bar on the corner over there, say nine o’clock?”
“Yes, all right.”
“Cool, I’ll let Mary Margaret and Ashley know. As for now, I better get back to my prisoner. I’ll have to figure out a babysitter for her. Maybe David’s interested. Anyway, see you tonight. Bye, Gold.”
“Goodbye.”
Once again Sheriff Swan leaves an awkward silence in her wake. Belle suppresses any urge to explain herself or apologize. Why should she? Rumpelstiltskin has no claim on her time, has made it clear he doesn’t want one.
“It’ll be good to see Snow White and Cinderella again. Maybe they’ll remember me.”
“Possibly.”
She’s about to ask which way is home when the words catch in her throat. Rumpelstiltskin’s house is not “home.” It never can be. She can’t keep beating herself against this wall. “Is that inn you mentioned near here?”
They meet each other’s gazes steadily. “Yes.”
“I think I might stay there from now on. I’ve imposed on you enough.” The words come easily. Who knew it was so simple to shred a heart?
“As you wish.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I keep the clothes. I don’t have any otherwise.”
“They’re yours. I’ll have the rest brought to you.”
“And I don’t have money to pay for a bed.”
“You won’t need any. At any rate, when the curse is broken it won’t matter.”
“That’s right. I’m going home soon.”
“You are.”
They walk to the inn, or “Granny’s Bed and Breakfast” as the sign calls it. The old woman at the front acts like Rumpelstiltskin is a demon come to plague her, and isn’t that what he was before all this? Belle’s been a fool for a long time. The old woman gives her a room key and makes good her escape.
Belle faces him once more. She drops a short curtsey. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Mr. Gold.”
He gives her a short nod.
She begins to walk away.
“Belle!”
She stops. Equal halves of her demand she turn and demand she keep walking. But when the tiniest glimmer of hope allows her to choose the former, all she finds is the door swinging shut.
Chapter Five