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Description
Mr Gold found himself walking particularly slowly that day; for two reasons. The first was because he was deep in thought, and he found that walking slowly helped him to think. The second was because he didn't want to jiggle Belle around in his pocket too much; she had already had quite a day of it as it was.

They had had another argument before leaving the house; because Belle was determined to see where they were going and Mr Gold was determined that she stay out of sight, for fear that she would fall and be seriously hurt. In the end, they opted for a compromise; Belle would stay hidden out of sight until they reached the river, and then she could peer out of his pocket, as long as she promised to keep out of sight when they weren't on their own.

"Alright, dearie?" Mr Gold muttered under his breath as they reached the dock where the riverboats were kept.

"I think so." Belle's voice was muffled but perhap that was for the best; that way anyone who heard her could pass it off as just another everyday noise, like a car tyre screeching or a tin can rolling along the road. "Are we there yet, Mr Gold?"

"We are," he replied. "Just stay hidden a bit longer, dearie; then you can take a look."

In spite of the situation, Belle giggled. It wasn't too bad being inside Mr Gold's jacket pocket; it was rather cosy, in spite of the slow rocking caused by his steps, and it was rather interesting being able to hear the world around her but not see it. It was rather scary how loud everything sounded now to her little ears; simple noises like car motors and footsteps and even the wind kept causing her to jump somewhat. Even now, the sound of the river lapping the side of the boat seemed eerily loud.

The second they were aboard and alone, Mr Gold glanced down at his pocket. "Belle? You can take a look now."

"Phew!" Belle blew her fringe out of her face as she climbed up to peer over the edge of the pocket, resting her elbows on the thin strip of material. "Everything's so loud now, Mr Gold. It's rather confusing."

He felt a slight lump in his throat. Poor Belle; he hadn't considered how much she must be suffering due to her small size. "We will find a way to fix this, Belle," he promised.

"Ooh!" Belle squeaked.

"What is it, dearie?" Mr Gold asked, in alarm.

"Can you feel that? We're moving!"

He had felt it, but taken no notice. To Belle, on the other hand, it felt like she was falling...and then rising...and then falling again with the movement of the river. "Are you alright, dearie?"

"It's rather nauseating," she admitted.

"Try not to think about it, dearie," he advised. "Hold on tight," he added in a whisper as footsteps approached them and he realised it would be best to move so that no one could see him talking to a tiny Belle in his pocket. Belle clung grimly on as he moved, rather swiftly, towards a nearby table. The people passed them without so much as a glance in their direction and Mr Gold breathed out in relief. "Come here, dearie," he muttered, holding out a hand to her. Belle wriggled into his palm and he placed her carefully on the table. "Better?"

"Better," she said, settling herself on her knees. "But what if someone comes?"

"We'll just have to throw a napkin over you, dearie," he grinned.

Belle giggled. "It would be rather like a tent than a napkin now!" She looked over at the view from the beyond the railings. "How long will it take us to get to the bayou?"

"A couple of hours at most, I imagine." Mr Gold lowered himself into the nearest chair, stretching out his bad leg. Belle watched him, and then, feeling bolder in this new form that she had felt before, she said "Mr Gold, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Belle."

"How did that happen?" She nodded towards his leg, and then felt herself blushing. "I'm sorry, I was just curious. Forget I said anything..."

Mr Gold smiled. "No, it's alright, dearie. I don't mind talking to you about it." He took a deep breath. "Well, we were into the final year of the war, and my division had been waiting in the trenches in Flanders for months; months we'd spent there without orders, just listening to bombs and mines going off in No Man's Land. There were soldiers there from all over the world; Scotland, America, Ireland, England, Canada, Australia, Wales; so many of us far away from our homes and families. We used to pass the time telling stories, reciting poetry, playing the occassional game of cards, reading" - here Belle smiled in delight - "and mostly just worrying that we'd soon meet our makers. Anyway, the order for us to advance came through that day and we all knew that the second we set foot over the trenches, we would all be shot and killed." Belle swallowed, looking alarmed. "That's how brutal it was, Belle. Well, we prepared ourselves for what was to come; we made sure we had all our weapons in working order; we said goodbye to one another in advance; and then we went over the top. No sooner had we set foot there, the guns went off. People were falling left, right and centre. A lot of us avoided being killed but dodging bullets is never an easy feat."

"And you got shot?" Belle guessed. "In the leg?"

Mr Gold nodded. "I was thankful that I was only wounded; many of my friends had been killed instantly. All I could see was smoke and blood. I'd dropped my pistol when I'd gone down, so I dragged myself towards it just as an enemy soldier came charging towards me." He closed his eyes for a second, trying to blot out the memory of what had happened next.

"Mr Gold?"

"It was kill or be killed, Belle; please don't hate me for it."

Her heart melted and she stepped forwards. "Mr Gold, you did what you had to do to survive; it wasn't your fault the war began."

He smiled. "Well, that was the last thing I remember. The next thing I knew I was being treated in hospital for a bullet to the leg. They said I'd be alright, but apparently the bullet went through a tendon or something, so I always needed to use this," he tapped his cane on the floor, "to walk afterwards. I spent the rest of the war in that hospital, and when I left, I found that almost everyone I knew had been killed; and for what? A pointless waste of lives, in the end."

Belle felt tears prick in her eyes, and she suddenly wished she was her normal size again so that she could hug him in comfort. "Mr Gold, I'm so sorry."

He sighed. "And I have a horrible feeling it's not all over yet, Belle. Like, when the war ended, there was always a chance that it might come back again."

Belle shivered and tried to think of something else to occupy their minds on the journey. "How...how do you know the Shadow Man? Is that anything to do with the war?"

"Well," he hesitated, "not exactly, but I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to talk about it just yet."

"Is it bad?"

"Yes."

"Did you so something bad?" she asked, unable to believe that he might be capable of such a thing.

He looked at her. "I did something...foolish, Belle, which led to something bad."

"But was he responsible for it?"

"Yes, but I do blame myself for it too."

Belle couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly be, but she wasn't about to press him if he wasn't ready to tell her just yet. "Well, I won't ask any more awkward questions. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Belle."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad-"

"Belle, nothing you could do could make me feel bad." He offered her a smile and she returned it, rather sheepishly. "Mr Gold, I don't mean to be a bother..."

"You're not a bother, dearie, anything but. What is it?"

"I'm hungry again. I know I just ate half a beignet but being this size, I'm not exactly full."

Mr Gold smiled. "Well, we'll just collar one of the waiters. What do you fancy?"

"Perhaps some fruit? And something to drink?"

As luck would have it, the very next person to walk past them was a waiter, who took their order whilst Belle hid herself behind the menu. Eating wouldn't prove to be too difficult; Mr Gold simply chopped some of the fruit into bite-sized pieces for her. Drinking looked to be a problem, since she had asked for a cup of tea, and the teacup was now big enough for her to use as a swimming pool. The waiter gave Mr Gold a bit of an odd look when he requested a straw, but complied; and soon Belle found that she could just about manage well enough. She couldn;t help but wonder, as they ate together, what would happen to her if she had to remain this way for the rest of her life. She wouldn't be able to work at the library any more the books were now big enough to crush her if one were to land on her. How could she possibly learn to cook for herself when she was this size? And what about sleeping? She would get lost in her own bed! Belle tried hard not to cry but it was difficult.

"Belle?" Mr Gold looked at her. "Are you alright, dearie?"

"What if we can't lift the spell, Mr Gold?" she asked, her lip trembling as she spoke. "What if I'm stuck this way forever?"

"Hey, hey." Gently he lifted the edge of the napkin for her to dry her eyes with. "Belle, it'll be alright..."

"But I can't do a thing for myself this size."

"Belle," he hesitated before going on, "I promised you we'd find a way to get you back to your regular size, but if we can't, I promise I'll look after you."

"You, Mr Gold?"

"Well, you're my friend and I can't just leave you to starve, now, can I?"

"Thank you, Mr Gold!"

"My pleasure, Belle."

Description
Mr Gold found himself walking particularly slowly that day; for two reasons. The first was because he was deep in thought, and he found that walking slowly helped him to think. The second was because he didn't want to jiggle Belle around in his pocket too much; she had already had quite a day of it as it was.

They had had another argument before leaving the house; because Belle was determined to see where they were going and Mr Gold was determined that she stay out of sight, for fear that she would fall and be seriously hurt. In the end, they opted for a compromise; Belle would stay hidden out of sight until they reached the river, and then she could peer out of his pocket, as long as she promised to keep out of sight when they weren't on their own.

"Alright, dearie?" Mr Gold muttered under his breath as they reached the dock where the riverboats were kept.

"I think so." Belle's voice was muffled but perhap that was for the best; that way anyone who heard her could pass it off as just another everyday noise, like a car tyre screeching or a tin can rolling along the road. "Are we there yet, Mr Gold?"

"We are," he replied. "Just stay hidden a bit longer, dearie; then you can take a look."

In spite of the situation, Belle giggled. It wasn't too bad being inside Mr Gold's jacket pocket; it was rather cosy, in spite of the slow rocking caused by his steps, and it was rather interesting being able to hear the world around her but not see it. It was rather scary how loud everything sounded now to her little ears; simple noises like car motors and footsteps and even the wind kept causing her to jump somewhat. Even now, the sound of the river lapping the side of the boat seemed eerily loud.

The second they were aboard and alone, Mr Gold glanced down at his pocket. "Belle? You can take a look now."

"Phew!" Belle blew her fringe out of her face as she climbed up to peer over the edge of the pocket, resting her elbows on the thin strip of material. "Everything's so loud now, Mr Gold. It's rather confusing."

He felt a slight lump in his throat. Poor Belle; he hadn't considered how much she must be suffering due to her small size. "We will find a way to fix this, Belle," he promised.

"Ooh!" Belle squeaked.

"What is it, dearie?" Mr Gold asked, in alarm.

"Can you feel that? We're moving!"

He had felt it, but taken no notice. To Belle, on the other hand, it felt like she was falling...and then rising...and then falling again with the movement of the river. "Are you alright, dearie?"

"It's rather nauseating," she admitted.

"Try not to think about it, dearie," he advised. "Hold on tight," he added in a whisper as footsteps approached them and he realised it would be best to move so that no one could see him talking to a tiny Belle in his pocket. Belle clung grimly on as he moved, rather swiftly, towards a nearby table. The people passed them without so much as a glance in their direction and Mr Gold breathed out in relief. "Come here, dearie," he muttered, holding out a hand to her. Belle wriggled into his palm and he placed her carefully on the table. "Better?"

"Better," she said, settling herself on her knees. "But what if someone comes?"

"We'll just have to throw a napkin over you, dearie," he grinned.

Belle giggled. "It would be rather like a tent than a napkin now!" She looked over at the view from the beyond the railings. "How long will it take us to get to the bayou?"

"A couple of hours at most, I imagine." Mr Gold lowered himself into the nearest chair, stretching out his bad leg. Belle watched him, and then, feeling bolder in this new form that she had felt before, she said "Mr Gold, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Belle."

"How did that happen?" She nodded towards his leg, and then felt herself blushing. "I'm sorry, I was just curious. Forget I said anything..."

Mr Gold smiled. "No, it's alright, dearie. I don't mind talking to you about it." He took a deep breath. "Well, we were into the final year of the war, and my division had been waiting in the trenches in Flanders for months; months we'd spent there without orders, just listening to bombs and mines going off in No Man's Land. There were soldiers there from all over the world; Scotland, America, Ireland, England, Canada, Australia, Wales; so many of us far away from our homes and families. We used to pass the time telling stories, reciting poetry, playing the occassional game of cards, reading" - here Belle smiled in delight - "and mostly just worrying that we'd soon meet our makers. Anyway, the order for us to advance came through that day and we all knew that the second we set foot over the trenches, we would all be shot and killed." Belle swallowed, looking alarmed. "That's how brutal it was, Belle. Well, we prepared ourselves for what was to come; we made sure we had all our weapons in working order; we said goodbye to one another in advance; and then we went over the top. No sooner had we set foot there, the guns went off. People were falling left, right and centre. A lot of us avoided being killed but dodging bullets is never an easy feat."

"And you got shot?" Belle guessed. "In the leg?"

Mr Gold nodded. "I was thankful that I was only wounded; many of my friends had been killed instantly. All I could see was smoke and blood. I'd dropped my pistol when I'd gone down, so I dragged myself towards it just as an enemy soldier came charging towards me." He closed his eyes for a second, trying to blot out the memory of what had happened next.

"Mr Gold?"

"It was kill or be killed, Belle; please don't hate me for it."

Her heart melted and she stepped forwards. "Mr Gold, you did what you had to do to survive; it wasn't your fault the war began."

He smiled. "Well, that was the last thing I remember. The next thing I knew I was being treated in hospital for a bullet to the leg. They said I'd be alright, but apparently the bullet went through a tendon or something, so I always needed to use this," he tapped his cane on the floor, "to walk afterwards. I spent the rest of the war in that hospital, and when I left, I found that almost everyone I knew had been killed; and for what? A pointless waste of lives, in the end."

Belle felt tears prick in her eyes, and she suddenly wished she was her normal size again so that she could hug him in comfort. "Mr Gold, I'm so sorry."

He sighed. "And I have a horrible feeling it's not all over yet, Belle. Like, when the war ended, there was always a chance that it might come back again."

Belle shivered and tried to think of something else to occupy their minds on the journey. "How...how do you know the Shadow Man? Is that anything to do with the war?"

"Well," he hesitated, "not exactly, but I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to talk about it just yet."

"Is it bad?"

"Yes."

"Did you so something bad?" she asked, unable to believe that he might be capable of such a thing.

He looked at her. "I did something...foolish, Belle, which led to something bad."

"But was he responsible for it?"

"Yes, but I do blame myself for it too."

Belle couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly be, but she wasn't about to press him if he wasn't ready to tell her just yet. "Well, I won't ask any more awkward questions. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Belle."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad-"

"Belle, nothing you could do could make me feel bad." He offered her a smile and she returned it, rather sheepishly. "Mr Gold, I don't mean to be a bother..."

"You're not a bother, dearie, anything but. What is it?"

"I'm hungry again. I know I just ate half a beignet but being this size, I'm not exactly full."

Mr Gold smiled. "Well, we'll just collar one of the waiters. What do you fancy?"

"Perhaps some fruit? And something to drink?"

As luck would have it, the very next person to walk past them was a waiter, who took their order whilst Belle hid herself behind the menu. Eating wouldn't prove to be too difficult; Mr Gold simply chopped some of the fruit into bite-sized pieces for her. Drinking looked to be a problem, since she had asked for a cup of tea, and the teacup was now big enough for her to use as a swimming pool. The waiter gave Mr Gold a bit of an odd look when he requested a straw, but complied; and soon Belle found that she could just about manage well enough. She couldn;t help but wonder, as they ate together, what would happen to her if she had to remain this way for the rest of her life. She wouldn't be able to work at the library any more the books were now big enough to crush her if one were to land on her. How could she possibly learn to cook for herself when she was this size? And what about sleeping? She would get lost in her own bed! Belle tried hard not to cry but it was difficult.

"Belle?" Mr Gold looked at her. "Are you alright, dearie?"

"What if we can't lift the spell, Mr Gold?" she asked, her lip trembling as she spoke. "What if I'm stuck this way forever?"

"Hey, hey." Gently he lifted the edge of the napkin for her to dry her eyes with. "Belle, it'll be alright..."

"But I can't do a thing for myself this size."

"Belle," he hesitated before going on, "I promised you we'd find a way to get you back to your regular size, but if we can't, I promise I'll look after you."

"You, Mr Gold?"

"Well, you're my friend and I can't just leave you to starve, now, can I?"

"Thank you, Mr Gold!"

"My pleasure, Belle."