Chapter Text
It’s her own suppressed gasp that makes Belle flinch on the bed and open her eyes, not quite sure where she is. She breathes heavily, in and out, clutching at the pillow as she stares into the darkness of the room.
It must be late after midnight. The last thing she remembers is Mr Gold finishing reading the latest chapter to her, before he wished her to sleep well and left the room. Her eyes adjust to the darkness a little bit, and she can even see the book lying on the nightstand, right where he left it, next to her purse.
She’s still shaking when she jerks upwards and grasps at the blanket. It makes no sense: that blanket definitely can’t protect her from the nightmares. They just come on their own, bringing her nothing but more headache. Belle sniffles quietly and embraces herself with her hands, sitting in the center of the bed and staring at the opposite wall, its outlines slowly emerging from the darkness.
She just wishes she wasn’t alone in moments like these. She is scared and lonely, and so, so very lost. She heard this town she is in, Storybrooke, is quite small, but right now it feels like the largest place on Earth, where no one knows her, and she has nowhere to go and nobody to ask for help.
Well, not exactly nobody… She has Mr Gold. He’s kind to her. And he seems to know her quite well. He told her she is one of the most important people in his life, and she believes everything he tells her. She simply can’t… not believe. Not when he speaks to her with such sincerity and such a deep sadness in his voice.
Mr Gold. She wonders if he would be able to make her nightmares go away.
Belle reaches for her purse and digs inside, her fingers searching through every object by touch. Haircomb. A rather small item that feels like lipgloss. About a dozen other things she can’t quite recognize, until… she snatches out her phone and stares at it blankly, as if not sure what to do with it next. Her finger taps the ‘on’ button. The screen blinks and flashes brightly right into her face, making her gasp and drop it on the bed.
So bright. She can already feel the pressure behind her eyes building up. She whines and falls on the pillow, covering her eyes with her palm. Why must everything be so hard. It’s never hard when Mr Gold is around. He makes everything seem so normal and… fixable.
Somehow things become a dozen times harder when it’s just Belle facing them. Maybe she’s the problem. A lost, confused girl who has her entire life wiped out of her memory.
She has to be brave, Belle decides after several minutes of lying on the pillow. She has to be courageous. She has no idea where she gets this thought from, but it grows so strong in her mind that she pushes herself up from the pillow and takes the phone again, trying to adjust her vision to the blinding brightness.
Right. She has to find her contacts list, probably. She taps the green button and scrolls through the list of names in front of her, slowly realizing that she has no idea who all these people are and which number to call.
Emma Swan. Rumple. Someone named “Red”. Mary-Margaret, and then David. None of these names ring any bells in her head. And none of these names are “Mr Gold”. Belle scrolls up and down the list, trying to find something — someone, anyone she might know, please, she needs someone right now.
How come there’s no contact for Mr Gold here?! He must be under some other name. She just doesn’t know which one. Her fingers grasp at the phone tighter and tighter, until her hands are trembling, and then she tosses it back to the nightstand, ignoring the loud clacking noise.
Belle sniffles and crawls back under the blanket, her cheeks impossibly hot against the cool surface of the pillow. She just wishes Mr Gold was here. For him to continue reading the next chapter of the book to her — they’ve read almost half of it, with the speed they are going. Or rather, with the frequency she asks him to read to her. He never says no, merely smiling at her as he reaches for the book on the nightstand evening after evening. He probably thinks she’s excited for the book. Which she is. But another thing that makes her ask him to read for her so often is that warm smile he is granting her every time she does. He seems to be happy whenever she asks him. And she is so happy to see him happy.
If only she wasn’t constantly being drugged, things might have been even better. Belle knows the rules by now: if she overreacts, or panics, or asks too many questions, she is being injected with something. She is not sure what the name of the drug is. She tried asking, but she doesn’t remember if she got her response before she blacked out .
They probably just want to keep her calm, she explains to herself, curled under the blanket and shivering from the way the cold fabric of her clothing sticks to her sweaty body. They need to keep her steady, that’s probably a reasonable thing to do to someone who is constantly stressed.
The thing is: she can’t not be stressed. And she is tired of waking up dizzy and disoriented every time. Those drugs make her lose her sense of time. Every time she opens her eyes, she is not sure if it’s morning or evening. If Mr Gold is going to come to visit her today or if he’s already been here, saw her sleeping, and left, and now she is going to wait until tomorrow to see him again.
And she still doesn’t remember her past. How can they expect her to not stress out?.. The doctor — the one that is treating her, Doctor Whale — told her they need to keep her in the most calm state possible because that’s what’s helping her memory improve. She supposes she has to believe the doctor.
And yet she hates those injections more and more each time they give her one. Why can’t things just be simpler? Why can’t they leave her alone? She’d stay in this room and listen to Mr Gold reading books to her. That’s her version of calm.
And Mr Gold’s idea of her listening to books rather than reading them herself did work out perfectly for her. Her head doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode each time she tries to concentrate, and she gets to hear all the beautiful stories encrypted in those pages of text. And Mr Gold has the most soothing voice. Maybe they should just let him stay with her instead of giving her all those drugs.
Belle decides to be patient. Sooner or later Doctor Whale has to check her out of the hospital. She has no idea if she’s improving or getting worse, but there has to become a time when all of this stops. Belle isn’t sure why she believes that, but it sounds like an undeniable fact: that things are going to get better for her. Just like Mr Gold had promised. She believes him, and so she is patient. She allows the nurses to check her blood pressure every evening and make little notes in their book, and she allows them to give her injections twice a day. Doctor Whale says they help her maintain emotional balance. She just agrees and lets them.
Until one day she snaps.
…Belle sits in the lobby, talking to a girl she now knows is called Ruby. Ruby, who claims she was her friend. She even brought her a book, and Belle, however disoriented, finds enough good sense in her head to appreciate the gift. The front cover looks very interesting, she can’t wait for Mr Gold to read it to her later.
And then they talk, her and Ruby. And she gets all worked up. Somehow the responses this girl is giving her do not make any sense, and they certainly do not give her any real answers. Only more questions. She is tired of having questions. And she is tired of the sedatives.
That’s exactly what she screams at Ruby, and at whoever the hell is approaching her and tries to take her by her wrists. She yanks her hands free of that hold. She’s told them multiple times she is done with their tranquilizers. That’s not what she needs. They need to leave her alone and let her think clearly, maybe then she will be able to make more sense out of all this.
Nobody listens. One nurse can’t hold her down, so she calls another nurse for help, and Belle realizes in horror that she won’t be strong enough against the two of them. They are going to tranquilize her again.
Oh god, she whispers, her lips numb and cold. Her eyes dart towards Ruby, who just said she was her friend, and right now is standing there and doing absolutely nothing to help. Well, her face is apologetic, but that’s not good enough.
Belle gasps and looks around the lobby. The check-in desk. The waiting area — she was pretty much the only one sitting here watching TV. Until all of this started happening. There are people walking across the hallway in the distance… And then her eyes stop at the front entrance, and she sees Mr Gold. Frozen in the doorway, cane in one hand, other — still on the door handle, and he stares at this entire situation with a petrified expression on his face.
Mr Gold.
He can stop this.
Belle stumbles backwards, away from the nurses, turns and whips herself towards him. She is probably saying something too, but at the moment she can’t make sense of it herself. She’s just asking him to stop these people. She swears she’s had enough drugs for her lifetime. Her fingers clutch at his jacket, and she grasps at him, begging him to do something. He’s the only one who feels safe in this entire building, she needs him to do something.
“Th-they are going to drug me again, Mr Gold,” she gasps for air and hides her face on his chest, feeling his hand slowly wrapping around her shoulders. “I don’t want them to, I don’t want to fall asleep again, it hurts, and I dream of things, and I— I— please don’t let them—”
He’s pulling her into a protective hug and whispers something to her that she can’t quite understand at first, so she just holds onto him tighter.
“Okay, sweetheart, alright, listen to me,” Mr Gold’s soft voice finally reaches her ear. “I won’t let anyone do anything to you, I promise. If you don’t want to, then it’s not happening, Belle. It’s that simple. Sh-h-h, sweetheart, calm down, you’re safe.”
His voice is so close. Belle just wants to hear these words again and again. That’s what she should be hearing all the time. If you don’t want to, then it’s not happening. It’s that simple.
She hears Doctor Whale’s voice from the lobby, “Gold, she really needs to be tranquilized, she is highly unstable,” followed by quick footsteps, and she flinches closer to Mr Gold, who stands in front of her and raises his hand sharply.
“A single step closer, dearie, and I can’t promise I won’t give you a concussion.”
His voice slides from the high soothing notes into a low and dangerous growl. Belle trembles against him, feeling his hold of her only becoming stronger. Exactly the way she needs to be held right now. She leans into him gratefully.
“Okay,” Doctor Whale says slowly, as if trying to tame a beast that accidentally got off his leash. “Okay, but look at her, she does need to be stabilized somehow...”
“Leave that to me,” Mr Gold says quietly, and Belle feels a slow kiss being pressed on top of her head. “Okay, love, Mr Whale is right about that, you do need to calm down and rest…”
“I can’t be drugged again, I don’t want to be drugged again,” she whispers feverishly into his jacket, her cheek burning hot against the cool fabric.
“Nobody is drugging you anymore, I shall see to that,” Mr Gold ensures her quietly, leaning towards her and whispering the words into her ear. “We will figure out another way. Let’s go find your room, Belle, and we’ll think of everything else once we are there, okay? Come on. Lead me to your room, can you do that?”
Belle remembers the way to her room from the lobby, of course, she does. She’s walked this path a hundred times already, considering the staff won’t let her out of the building. The waiting area is the closest thing to entertainment here. She gets to people-watch or sit in front of the TV until it’s time to either eat or go to sleep. Belle knows how to get to her room from here quite well, so she nods.
Mr Gold offers his hand, and she hesitantly takes it, their fingers entwining into a firm hold.
It feels like he’s guiding her more than she’s leading him. Mr Gold pushes the door to her room and lets her in, the touch of his hand ephemeral on her waist. It feels like he doesn’t want to pressure her, but he can’t just let go of her either.
“Belle, sweetheart, sh-h-h…” She is fully sobbing now, and Mr Gold puts his palms on her shoulders, lightly prompting her to sit on the bed. He embraces her from behind and whispers something to her. Something kind. Right into her ear. Stroking her arms with small careful motions. Explaining something to her.
She isn’t exactly listening, but his voice is what does the trick. Her heart stops pounding like it’s going to break through her ribcage. She can inhale properly again, without having to gasp for air over and over. Tears continue running down her face, leaving hot traces on her cheeks, and she wipes them with the back of her hand sharply.
“It’s okay, Belle, dear. No drugs for you anymore, alright? We’ll find some other solution for you.”
“Th-thank you,” she stutters, her throat seizing involuntarily. “They were horrible. At first they helped a little, but at this point they are just g-giving me nightmares and making me dizzy almost all the time. And—” she shakes her head reluctantly, “I wake up, and I don’t know what time it is and how long I was out, and it’s s-s-scary,” she manages the last word one syllable at a time because her tongue refuses to cooperate by the end of the sentence.
Mr Gold purses his lips and brings her head to his shoulder, looking devastated.
“Next time call me, Belle,” he says quietly, his palm warm on her head. “Just pick up the phone and call, alright? It’s easier to battle fear when you don’t feel alone.”
Belle slowly straightens and reaches towards the nightstand. And the next moment she silently shows him the cracked screen of her phone, from when she slammed it screen down against the nightstand.
“I tried,” she admits quietly. “There was one night… I woke up and I couldn’t… quite… make sense of what was happening. I had a horrible nightmare,” she shifts her shoulder uncomfortably. “And I—I thought of you.” She sniffles and gestures at the phone sadly. “I couldn’t find your number here. It must be under some other name, or… I don’t know… I just couldn’t find it.”
Her sight is fixed on her fingers now. She doesn’t want to look up at him. That must be the most foolish problem of all times, to not find — or have — someone’s contact in your phone because you’ve forgotten who they are. She just doesn’t want to see that thought on Mr Gold’s face, so she chooses to stubbornly study her fingernails instead.
“May I?..” Mr Gold extends his hand. She nods, handing him the phone, and then watches him click the “Create new contact” button without giving himself trouble to scroll through the existing contacts first.
“Of course you wouldn’t find me there, I am under a different name,” he mutters, typing ‘Mr Gold’ into the name field and saving the number. “This is me,” he gives her the phone back. “I should’ve thought about it. I still can’t believe,” he looks at her, and she sees that his eyes are sparkling with tears. “I still can’t accept the fact that you don’t remember. Forgive me, Belle,” he whispers so quietly she barely makes out words.
“I’m just glad I have it now,” she whispers back, smiling at him with just the corners of her mouth.