A/N: So this is only half of chapter four, but it's all I have written at the moment and it's pretty long on its own -- so I thought it was better to post it in halves even though that means it'll be just a few more parts than I expected! Hope you all enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think of it!

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Chapter 4: Science And Magic
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Belle was angry. The library was her sanctuary, her haven from the world she didn’t know and didn’t have curse-memories to understand. It was her visible, tangible proof of Rumplestiltskin’s love, the love she’d seen grow in him during her time at his castle, believed in even when he’d sent her away with cold words and blank eyes, relied on during the long years of her imprisonment in the Queen’s tower. Rumplestiltskin had given her this library--her freedom, her independence, the world in its four corners, the knowledge she loved to collect--and she did not in the least appreciate having its warm, inviting interior filled with the ghosts of her nightmares, the shadows of her time in chains, and the echoes of her many hidden tears during long, lonely nights.

So she was angry. Angry to have her haven tainted in such a way, so callously, so thoughtlessly. Angry at Ruby--her *friend*--for locking her up, as if a manacle around her already-scarred wrist could protect her from whatever Ruby might do to her as a savage wolf, or from the mob out for Ruby’s blood.

Angry, because it was better to be angry than to be afraid. Better to pretend that she was breathing hard, that black dots were swimming at the corners of her vision and her stomach was twisted up in dull, twisting knots, because she was bottling up all she wanted to rant and rave at her friend. Better, because anger could--for a short time--cover up her rising panic, the inferno of fear and the torrent of thousands of memories of endless days locked away, vulnerable to Regina’s whim and whatever pirate might next break into her cell to grill her for information on how to kill Rumplestiltskin. Better to think on *why* she was angry than to give weight to the keening whisper that murmured dark and terrible things--that she’d never be free, that she’d never *been* free, that she’d never get to see Rumplestiltskin remember how to smile when he looked at her.

But she’d never been very good at staying angry, not when it was always so easy to look at someone else and see the weaknesses and the insecurities and the hidden strengths that drove them to do what they did. So, before she was ready--before she was *free*--her anger was fizzing away, going wispy and ephemeral, leaving only cold terror and stark panic.

When she heard voices coming from near the doors, hushed and quick, she was half-convinced she was only imagining them. But she didn’t care anymore--she just wanted *out*, wanted this length of cold iron taken off her--so she called out for help and hoped with all of her heart that it was Rumplestiltskin. He’d been tentative in his approaches ever since she’d snuck away from his house and almost got sent over the town line--almost forgot him, and the thought of that was enough to cover her in cold sweat even when she wasn’t chained up--cautious not to pressure her, but she hoped anyway.

And like uncounted times in Regina’s cell, her hope was disappointed.

The two strangers who’d so alarmed and preoccupied Rumplestiltskin over the past several days--which had made it impossible to find the time to try a hamburger with him--stared at her for a long moment, clearly taken aback by the sight of her.

There probably wasn’t anyone worse who could have found her--except Regina, but the Queen was cunning in the ways of self-survival and knew better than to approach her while Rumplestiltskin yet drew breath--but at the moment, Belle wasn’t inclined to care.

“Please,” she said again, hating to beg but too desperate not to. “Please get this off me!”

The woman muttered angry questions and dark imprecations, sounding not unlike Rumplestiltskin in one of his more annoyed moods, while the man stepped closer to examine the manacle. He moved slowly, keeping each of his gestures and touches soft and light, and Belle found herself relaxing a bit, her fear receding.

“It’s all right,” he murmured, his voice a soft undertone adding deeper layers to the comforting outrage of his companion. Lois, Belle remembered. Lois and Clark.

“Please,” Belle whispered. She tugged on the chain yet again, and knew that she’d have to wear jackets or long-sleeved blouses for awhile. If Rumplestiltskin caught sight of the red ring surrounding her wrist, Storybrooke would be lucky to emerge with just a street or two unscathed.

“Careful,” Clark warned her. He shot a look to Lois over his shoulder, and she nodded and stepped up close to Belle, her dark eyes demanding Belle’s full attention.

“Who did this to you?” Lois asked quietly, fixedly, while Clark’s hands brushed Belle’s wrist past the manacle. “Why are you here?”

“This is my library,” Belle said, proudly, the words like a cloak, a shield, reminding her that not all was bad or painful or confining. “But…she didn’t mean to. It was…a…a prank. A joke. I just…I don’t like being locked up.” And her breaths were coming short and sharp and painfully edged again, because the chain *wasn’t coming off*, and she needed to be free!

She glanced down, a half-crazed look, just in time to see Clark pinch the manacle between two fingers and crack open the hard iron as if it were butter.

“Belle!” Lois was saying, and Belle looked up to meet her gaze just as Clark finished stripping the iron chain off her and throwing it to the side. She’d have to find it later, Belle thought numbly, pick it up and get rid of it. Maybe she could ask Rumplestiltskin to melt it down into cinders for her.

Idle thoughts, really, but they helped mask her shock.

Her mind raced even as she hugged her arm to her chest, soothing the raw marks with her fingers, reassuring herself that the chain was gone and she wasn’t locked up anymore. She was in her library, not her cell, and she was facing strangers--strangers with an astonishing secret--not the Queen. And Rumplestiltskin was never far away, not anymore.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked mildly. He stood in front of her, one shoulder tilted behind Lois, protecting her from all sides. He looked normal, ordinary, brown eyes a paler shade than Rumplestiltskin’s, glasses like Archie’s, hands in his pockets like Leroy’s, and yet he was so much more than he appeared.

It wasn’t surprising, not really. Belle had sacrificed her eternity to a monster and discovered a good man buried beneath his beastly layers. She’d tracked down, and faced, a deadly Yaoguai, only to find a cursed prince beneath the appearance of a flaming wild dog. She above all others knew that no one ever showed the depths of themselves on their surface. And yet…and yet Rumplestiltskin had said the people of this world had no magic, no curses, no blessings from fairies, nothing but ordinary, mundane things, each one alike to another.

Usually, his information was more accurate than this.

Belle started, suddenly aware that both Lois and Clark were staring at her somewhat warily. “I’m fine!” she said, too quickly, too cheerfully. She hoped they’d attribute it to her relief at being rescued. “Thank you, for saving me!”

“No problem,” Clark said.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Lois pressed, and when Belle nodded, she straightened and asked, “So do you know what all that fuss outside is about?”

She didn’t have curse memories like everyone else, and most of the time Belle was grateful for it--she had no wish to juggle two sets of memories, particularly when one set wouldn’t have Rumplestiltskin in them--but right now, she happily would have taken a few, just enough so she could know what kind of explanation would satisfy these strangers. But then, more than just satisfying their suspicion, she thought she might need to make certain they weren’t out to hurt anyone. She was pretty sure they weren’t--almost certain the man’s gentleness with her and the woman’s enraged concern for her meant they had good hearts--but maybe they thought revealing the existence of a cursed town to the rest of this magic-less world was a good thing.

And Belle knew it wasn’t.

David needed time to find a way to bring back his wife and daughter.

Henry shouldn’t be thought crazy *again*, as Rumple said he would be by people from this world.

Ruby would be hunted down, considered wild and dangerous by people who did not understand magic just as she was by those who *did* know of it.

And if the world descended on them, Rumplestiltskin would never be able to find his son.

So, she fashioned a trembling smile and darted a look about as if afraid they were being spied on, and she said very quietly, “I can’t tell you, but I know who can. Come on, we have to find Rumplestil--” Just in time she caught herself and said, “Mr. Gold. He can explain everything.”

“Uh…could you excuse us for one second?” Lois asked, her smile brittle and fleeting.

Belle nodded, and watched as they moved away, turning behind a bookshelf so that she could only see patches of them past rows of the books she’d slowly been making her way through. Biting her lip, Belle reached out and leaned her hand against the smooth, comforting feel of books. Her panic was slow to ebb away, her fear leaving behind oily tracks through her thoughts, but she was able to breathe without feeling as if she were about to pass out and the black dots were gone from her vision, so she supposed she was recovering.

With a deep breath, Belle looked over to where the chains had slid. If she didn’t face them now, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to later. She could ask Rumplestiltskin to take care of it for her, but if she did, Ruby might end up in trouble with an angered Rumplestiltskin and Belle herself would feel a coward. She’d once told her beloved beast that bravery would come to those who did brave things, and he’d been trying so hard for her lately to be brave and honest, so she took a shuffling step forward, and another, and another, and then, quickly, as if it were a snake that might bite her, she reached down and picked up the long, heavy chains.

It wasn’t as satisfying as she’d hoped it would be when she threw them into the garbage can beneath the reception desk, but it was something. She still felt as if they were lurking, hidden, ready to jump out and attack her--a silly, ridiculous notion that she did her best to ignore. The important thing was that the chains were out of sight, and even if they weren’t, the manacle itself was broken, thanks to the two strangers.

“Belle?” Lois’s voice was soft, her smile more real, as she and Clark approached the reception desk. “You say Mr. Gold can explain things? Like the mob?”

“Yes,” Belle said, sensing a trap in her words.

“Can he explain…anything else?” Clark questioned, casually. Intently.

Belle smiled faintly. “If anyone can, it’s him.”

Lois hesitated, though Belle would have thought she was the sort to charge forward without scouting ahead first. “You…you do realize there’s a mob out there, right? It might be dangerous.”

“That’s all right. I’ll be safe--we’re only going down a block anyway.” Belle shrugged, relatively unconcerned. She knew very well, from the ogre wars that had ravaged her land so long ago, the dangerous and destructive force of a mob, the unreasoning fury and bloodlust that accompanied and controlled one, but everyone knew that Rumplestiltskin protected her and even a crazed mob would find that ample reason to pull itself back from harming her. She hadn’t feared for her life since the white-garbed stranger had freed her from her cell and told her to find Mr. Gold.

“All right,” Lois said decisively. “Then to Mr. Gold it is.” She slid a darkly amused look up to her friend. “Or should I say, follow the yellow brick road?”

Belle wasn’t sure what the statement meant, but Clark chuckled, his hand resting on Lois’s lower back as Belle led them from the library.

Night had cloaked all of Storybrooke and the lights lining the streets were banked, providing only a dim aura of radiance. Ruby’s howling had faded, Belle realized, and she tried to convince herself that it was because she had gained control of her wolf instincts, or fled outside the town, or was sleeping--anything but that the mob had succeeded in killing her. Swallowing back her fear, Belle fixed her eyes on the sign to Mr. Gold’s pawnshop at the end of the street and kept walking.

She supposed she could have been afraid, with a perhaps-uncontrolled werewolf on the loose and strangers who possessed the strength of a hundred men following close behind her down a dark, empty street, but she wasn’t. Not anymore. She trusted Ruby to control herself, to be as good and noble as David believed her to be, and she owed these strangers faith, as well as gratitude, for their kind actions in rescuing her. And she was half a block away from Rumplestiltskin--if she shouted his name, screamed at all, she was certain he would appear in a cloud of purple smoke with vengeance in his hand and terror in his eyes.

“So,” Lois said brightly, quickening her pace a bit to walk side by side with Belle. “Mr. Gold. He and you are…?”

“Oh, we’re together,” Belle said, and despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile. And cant her chin in the air in preparation of the incredulous looks or the horrified questions or the abrupt stiffening. She’d grown well used to such reactions in the past month.

“Ah,” Lois said. And that was all.

Slowly, Belle felt the tension ease from her, and her smile turned softer. She studied the taller woman, aware of Clark’s steady presence behind them but choosing to turn her attention fully to Lois. “You don't…” She bit her lip, suddenly unsure.

Lois frowned at her quizzically. “What?”

“Nothing.” Belle shook her head, then gestured to Clark. “And you two?”

“We’re dating,” Lois said, meeting her partner’s gaze steadily. Something passed between them--Belle wasn’t sure what, but she could feel it nonetheless, something strong and deep and reaffirming. Clark’s smile was caught between relief and joy, disbelief and awe, and Belle’s breath caught in her throat. It was Rumplestiltskin’s smile, the one he gave her when she took his hand or stepped into his embrace or told him she loved him. It was strange to see it on a man who was kind and compassionate and clearly competent, a tall and handsome man with a physique to rival Gaston’s, but then, if he kept his inordinate strength a secret, perhaps he felt alienated by that. Hercules had not always been easy with his godlike powers, either, if Belle remembered correctly.

“If I may ask,” Belle began diffidently, “why did you come to Storybrooke?”

“Clark proposed,” Lois said, “I said no--because I needed time to think”--she shot a narrow-eyed glance to her partner--“and we needed time to get to know each other again. Coastal Maine seemed like a good place.” Lois paused, then shrugged and added, “We heard there was some pretty interesting fog around here, colored fog. Thought we might check it out.”

“Sometimes we dabble in photography,” Clark interjected quickly. “We could get some pretty good shots of odd-colored fog.”

“I see,” Belle said, calmly, conversationally. If her voice shook, just the slightest bit, she hoped they would think it was because she shivered in the cold and wrapped her arms around her waist. But it wasn’t the chill night or the mist her breath made of the air that made her tremble.

Rumplestiltskin had torn apart a world to find his son. He’d sacrificed the happiness of everyone else, dedicated entire centuries of his life, turned her out and sent her far away when they discovered her kiss could break his curse and rid him of the magic he needed to complete his search. He had killed for his son, this Baelfire Belle knew by name only, by the tiny fragments, the broken secrets, Rumple would sometimes let slip to her--a gift she treasured with the same care she did his heart--and Belle did not doubt that he would kill again should his quest be endangered. This couple, young and in love and clearly hiding something but still not bad people. Anyone else who stumbled into Storybrooke. Whoever got between him and the son he loved so devotedly, so obsessively, so all-consumingly that everything else faded into insignificance in his eyes--he would kill any of them, all of them.

He would destroy another world if he had to, Belle thought, and she did not think that even she would be able to stop him, not if Baelfire was on the line. Already he burned with impatience, chafed with frustration at the delay the impassable town line presented. Another delay, another obstacle? It might be the final straw that would make him snap and release his hold on his control, his magic, his temper.

But Belle had seen colored smoke only once--the day Rumplestiltskin dropped his True Love potion into the well of magical waters and returned magic to Storybrooke. The day he had taken her into his arms, and touched her as if she were more precious than the magic roiling outward to engulf the town he’d had a hand in creating, and kissed her.

Purple smoke, like the magic he could conjure with a wave of his hand--to create a pillow for her, to heal her wounds…to kill any who stood in his way.

Lois and Clark had helped her, but Belle was suddenly afraid they would die for their act of compassion.

Unless she did something to stop it. She’d talked Rumplestiltskin down from murder before; she thought she could do it again. If she was careful. If she was slow, cautious, smart.

Belle turned to look at Lois--intent on the shop before them, the same determined absorption evident in her eyes that Rumple sometimes exhibited when in the midst of one of his more complicated potions--then to Clark--looking down at Lois, the corners of his mouth hiding the remnants of a smile, his eyes soft and warm and kinder than she’d ever seen Rumplestiltskin’s. When they noticed her attention, when they met her gaze, she smiled at them. “Everything will be all right,” she promised with a slight nod. Then she set her hand to the door of Rumple’s shop, pushed it open, and led them into the dim interior.

The bell over the door rang and Belle heard Rumple stirring in the back, behind the curtain serving as door to the private backroom. “Rumple!” she called so that he would know it was her.

She heard the tapping of his cane, saw his hand pull aside the curtain, revealing his smile, and heard him say, “Hey,” as he always did when he saw her, as if all other greetings failed at the sight of her.

His smile died when he noticed Lois and Clark behind her, and instantly replacing it was his mask. Cool and implacable, courteous and calculating. He was sizing them up, wondering why they were there, what they were doing with her. When his eyes swept over her, ensuring she was safe and unharmed, she realized--far too late--that she had forgotten her jacket and the skin around her wrist, rubbed raw and red, was bare to his gaze.

Before he could do more than straighten, hands tightening over the head of his cane, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing, Belle skipped forward. She reached out and put her hands over his, gratified to feel them instantly relax their death’s grip on the gold handle. “I’m all right,” she told him softly. “It was Ruby, but she meant no harm. She was only trying to protect me from the wolf.”

Rumple’s eyes softened, one of his hands slipping free of hers to brush his knuckle along her cheek. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she had to close her eyes against the knowledge, the regret, the guilt, shining in his. He wrapped his arm around her, and she gratefully, happily sank into his embrace. For just a moment she let herself rest her cheek on his shoulder and soak in his love, his affection, freely offered and wholly comforting. For an instant, she allowed herself to be vulnerable and fragile and let him give her the sanctuary her library hadn’t been able to provide.

But the moment passed quickly, and there was still the matter of the strangers behind her.

“They freed me.” Belle wrapped her arms around Rumplestiltskin, tilted her face toward him, and whispered, as softly as mouse, as gently as the stirring of the wind, into his ear. “He tore through the chains as if they were air, Rumple.”

His arm stiffened around her, and she stepped back to see his dark eyes light up with intrigue and plans. Rumplestiltskin was a devious strategist, pulling strings and arranging deals to suit his schemes decades in advance. She knew that he would look at strangers in his way and see only an obstacle to be removed; he would look at strangers with a dangerous secret and see opportunities to be found and weaknesses to be taken advantage of.

What she hadn’t counted on, though, was Clark realizing the danger he and his companion were in.

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe, Belle,” Clark said with a smile nowhere near as warm as the ones he’d offered earlier. He wrapped his hand around Lois’s arm and tugged her back to the door. “We’d better be going, though--the sheriff told us to stay in our rooms at night, so--”

“Oh, come now,” Rumplestiltskin said, and his arms slipped away from Belle entirely as he prowled forward. “No need to be leaving so soon. It seems I owe you a thank you for helping Belle.”

“No thanks necessary,” Clark assured him hastily. Lois was frowning, but she followed Clark’s lead and pulled the door open for them both.

Rumplestiltskin smiled his dealer’s smile. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

The door slammed shut, the bell chiming its warning with a clatter.

Clark and Lois exchanged a quick, startled look before turning to face Rumplestiltskin together. Rumplestiltskin came to a halt, leaned on his cane, one leg ahead of the other, knee bent, his smile never wavering.

Belle sighed exasperatedly and moved forward. “They helped me, Rumple,” she reminded him. “They didn’t have to, but they did.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “in a most unusual way.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” Lois said boldly, and Belle admired her courage, “but whatever it was, there’s no reason to keep us here.”

“Strangers with secrets in a town full of secrets.” Rumplestiltskin tipped his hand in an open-palmed gesture and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe coincidence. Maybe something else.” When Lois and Clark only exchanged another look, Rumple shrugged. “Of course you can leave any time you wish.”

Lois glared at him. “Thank you,” she bit out, and whirled to tug on the doorknob.

It didn’t budge. Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes Rumple was a bit too fond of his own showmanship and the games he played.

“It’ll open,” Rumplestiltskin said softly, in no more than a whisper that Belle, standing right beside him, had to strain to hear, “when the proper amount of strength is applied.”

Oblivious to the words, Lois turned back to them, eyes flashing fire and fury, but Clark, his voice calm, his eyes narrowed, said only, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll break the door?”

Belle caught her breath and Lois stared up at him quizzically; Rumplestiltskin smirked. If he’d still been an imp, with his scales and his claws and his high-pitched giggles, Belle was certain he would have clapped his hands and bounced in place with maniacal glee. His trap was set and it appeared his prey was taking the bait. Slowly, tenderly, Belle brushed her hand over his arm, reminding him that she was there, that he *wasn’t* an imp anymore, that he was a man she loved, a man trying to do better.

“I’m certain that you could cause quite a bit of damage should you wish it,” Rumple observed. He tilted his head, studying Clark closely. “Of course, then someone might end up getting hurt, and that’s not really something you like to risk, is it?”

“Clark,” Lois said warningly.

“It’s all right, Lois,” Clark assured her. He met Rumplestiltskin’s gaze calmly enough, though he had to take a deep breath before he spoke again. “You know who I am?”

“Unlike the rest of this town,” Rumple said wryly, “I’ve thought it prudent to learn *something* of this world we now occupy. And strangely enough, what might not warrant much more than a few tales in our land is startling enough to warrant quite a lot of uproar in this one. It appears I can’t escape exceptionally strong knights in shining armor no matter how many worlds I visit…*Superman*.”

“I know who you are, too,” Clark retorted. Belle wondered if Rumplestiltskin noticed that Clark was surreptitiously reaching out to clasp Lois’s hand. “Everyone in town talks of you in whispers. They’re afraid of your power and your ruthlessness, but I’m not. I knew someone just like you once, *Rumplestiltskin*, a man named Lex Luthor—he hid behind reputation and power, too, and thought that fear would work in his favor, but in the end he fell.”

“Oh, very good,” Rumplestiltskin said sardonically. “But to a man with super hearing, figuring out my name is hardly a miraculous feat. It does make me wonder, though…just how much would a man give in order to keep his secret safe from others who *don't* possess the advantage of extraordinary hearing?”

“What?” Lois snapped, stepping forward to confront Rumplestiltskin directly. “*This* is your big play? Threatening to unmask him to the world? That’ll be kind of hard to do when you don’t want the world to know you exist, won’t it?”

“Hardly,” Rumple scoffed, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled, and his stance had lost its ease. Belle felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach--she recognized the warning signs of Rumplestiltskin’s enjoyment with his games waning, of his patience coming to an end. Lois had come too close to the truth for comfort with her wild stab, and at any moment things could turn dangerous.

“I think it will,” Lois continued, relentless now that Rumplestiltskin was no longer smiling. She took another step forward, her eyes level with Rumple’s. “I think you’d rather remain safe and hidden here, and I don’t think you’re willing to leave town.”

Belle inwardly groaned. Mentioning leaving town was *not* the wisest move, not when it would only remind Rumplestiltskin that he was trapped here while these strangers could leave anytime they wished.

Sure enough, she could see his shoulders tightening, could feel that crackle in the air as his magic surged beneath his control, ready to lash outward, and she knew even without looking that his eyes had gone hard and implacable.

“Wait!” she called out before he could loose whatever magic was moving beneath his skin. She darted forward, holding out her arms to either side to keep distance between Clark and Rumplestiltskin. Lois was too near Rumple for Belle to jump between them but at least she could keep Clark back, keep herself in Rumple’s line of sight--the only chance she had of keeping things relatively peaceful. “We don’t have to do this,” she said evenly.

Clark peered at her, a crease in his brow, and Belle dared not look away to gauge Lois’s reaction. “Belle,” he said mildly, thoughtfully. “Even after all this time of listening, I don’t know who you are. What story do you come from?”

“Belle!” Rumple called sharply. Belle thought she saw Lois from the corner of her eye glaring at him, probably mistaking fear as anger as so many others did. “Don’t go any closer to him!”

“Story?” Belle repeated, frowning at Clark. “What do you mean, story?”

“I mean, everyone in this town seems to think they come from some fairytale or legend or nursery rhyme. Rumplestiltskin, Snow White and the seven dwarves, Jiminy Cricket and the Blue Fairy, the Evil Queen, Frankenstein, Red Riding Hood. But…which story is yours? I only remember one woman in the story of Rumplestiltskin, and she was a miller’s daughter.”

“Enough!” Rumple snapped, and there was more than fear in his voice--there was sheer terror.

Belle turned, slowly, to look at him. In all this time, he had said nothing of fairytales or legends, and even when she asked him what books she should read, he had never mentioned that there were stories of her friends and family here, in this world without magic but with, apparently, a man possessing superhuman strength and hearing.

“What does he mean, Rumple?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. Rumplestiltskin never lied, not outright, not without the use of half-truths and misdirections, but that was a blatant lie, and Belle could do nothing but gape at him. She knew he’d tortured thieves and traded for princesses; she knew he possessed the darkest of magics and was able to rip hearts still beating from their owners’ chests; she knew he’d beaten her father when he thought him responsible for Belle’s death and sent a wraith to consume Regina’s soul in revenge for the Queen imprisoning Belle. So what, after all that, could he be so afraid of her learning that he would lie so flagrantly, so obviously?

“I know of a Belle,” Lois said suddenly. “She’s the girl who traded herself to a beast to save her father’s life. She’s the girl who tamed the beast and fell in love with him. She’s the girl who broke his curse and found a handsome prince beneath the fur and claws. I don’t see any fur and claws,” she added cuttingly, “but I think I could guess who the beast is.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rumplestiltskin sneered. “Are you telling me that distinguished investigative reporters like yourself and Mr. Kent believe that *fairytales* are *real*?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Clark said. “But I do know this town isn’t from this world. And I think the people of Metropolis--people everywhere--will think it very interesting to discover that the Belle from Beauty and the Beast really exists.”

“They might be disappointed that there isn’t really a handsome prince at the end, though,” Lois muttered.

Maybe if Belle hadn’t been so caught up in this revelation that these strangers knew her story--or at least a distorted version of it--she would have been able to stop Rumplestiltskin. Maybe if she’d been watching the strangers instead of staring at her true love, she would have realized that Clark had stepped up behind her. Maybe if she’d been less curious, she would never have asked about the fairytales and Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t have felt so threatened by the ending he hadn’t been able to give her, the secrets involved in whoever the miller’s daughter was to him.

Maybe. Or maybe it would have happened anyway. Clark was very fast, after all, and Lois was between Belle and Rumplestiltskin, and Rumplestiltskin could never think clearly where she was concerned.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Clark stepped up behind her, he moved his arm in front of her--probably to move her out of the way--and Rumplestiltskin snapped.

He snarled, red smoke coiling around his hand as he grabbed Lois and threw her backward. Clark let out a shout and pulled Belle into his hold--later, she thought he was probably trying to protect her from the magic Rumple was wielding, but at the moment, it felt as if he were capturing her, and all she could remember was Regina’s guard wrapping his arms around her and hauling her toward a cage. She let out a cry and thrashed against Clark’s hold.

Lois was still sliding across the wooden floors toward the glass counter, dazed, red magic curling up around her to keep her immobilized. Rumplestiltskin was looking toward her, stepping toward her, but at the sound of Belle’s cry, his head jerked in her direction.

Stark, cold fury obliterated all hints of the softer, kinder man beneath the guise of monster. It was the Dark One, now, stalking toward Clark, the Dark One lowering his voice to a sibilant hiss as he murmured, “Let her go now, dearie, or all your strength won’t be enough to save you or your companion.”

Belle tugged on Clark’s arm, desperate to run to Rumple, to reach out her hand and calm him with her touch, to soothe away the terror eating away at him that only she could see, to banish the fumes of smoke rising from his hands--black now rather than red, and that was an even worse sign than the fact that he was reverting to using the word ‘dearie.’

But Clark was afraid, too, and Rumplestiltskin had tossed aside Lois and now threatened her, and maybe Clark--even with his gentle friendliness and his kind compassion--was more like Rumplestiltskin than it would seem.

Whatever his reason, he hesitated, and then, instead of releasing Belle, he tightened his hold around her. Belle could feel his heart pounding in his chest, strong and rapid, frantic with terror. She could hear the catch in his voice and feel the tremble in his frame. She could read all the signs of terror in him that she saw in Rumple and that was what finally made a cold sweat break out all over her skin.

“No,” Clark said, his tone hard and unyielding even with that tremble marring its steadiness. His grip was impossible to escape but didn’t hurt. “I won’t. Not until you let Lois free and allow us to leave here unharmed.”

“And if I don’t?” Rumplestiltskin murmured, his own voice caught halfway between a purr and a snarl. He was gripping his cane with a white-knuckled hand, as if he would raise it up in the air and beat Clark physically with it, disdaining the black smoke and lightning crackle emanating from him.

“You’d better,” Clark said softly, “because I don’t think you want Belle ending up hurt. And *you* know just how strong I am.”

“Oh, no,” Belle breathed, and she closed her eyes and slumped in his hold. “You should *not* have said that.”

There was no way, she thought with a sinking heart, that even *she* would be able to stop Rumplestiltskin now.

***

A/N: The miller's daughter, Cora, in Once Upon A Time, is Regina's mother, the Queen of Hearts, and was romantically involved with Rumplestiltskin before Regina--and Belle's--birth. She ended up breaking Rumplestiltskin's heart and tricking him in his deal, cheating him of the child he had bargained from her, and ever since, she and Rumplestiltskin have been rivals and enemies. Needless to say, Belle is unaware of this past, and at the moment, I'm pretty sure Rumplestiltskin is much happier with it that way.

Also, since I missed him in the last cheat sheet of characters, Daniel--mentioned throughout this story--is the stable boy Regina was in love with when she was young and innocent. She planned to run away with Daniel before she could be forced to marry Snow White's father, but Cora discovered the plan. She tore out Daniel's heart and crushed it in front of Regina, then bound her with magic to never leave the kingdom without Snow's father at her side. In Storybrooke, Frankenstein revived the magic-preserved body of Daniel in the hopes of winning Regina's favor, but Daniel was in pain and tormented, and to end his suffering, Regina was forced to destroy his body.

Thanks for reading -- I hope to have the second half of the chapter up soon!