Belle French looked up as Ruby, her fellow waitress, plonked down onto a barstool, her head perched on her hands and a mischievous look in her eyes. Belle continued wiping down the bar, not wanting to attract the disapproval of the matronly head of the diner. Granny may look like a grandmother out of a fairytale, but she had a sharp tongue and a glare to match it.

"What are you doing tonight?" Ruby asked, swirling her index finger idly in the drying streaks left by Belle's washcloth. She huffed and wiped the counter spotless again, trying to avoid answering Ruby's question.

Going home and hoping my father isn't too drunk already. "Go home, throw some food together and finish my book." Belle said, watching as a look of disappointment crossed Ruby's face. Belle could feel Granny's eyes on her, and before Ruby could try to force her to go out, Granny yelled.

"Ruby, you're not going anywhere tonight. We have five guests to take care of, and if you don't get to work, I'm going to leave them all for you!" Belle breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Belle didn't have any extra cash to go out, and Granny's interruption ensured that Ruby wouldn't pry too deeply. "Belle, if you're done, you can go home."

"Thank you, Granny." Belle ducked into the break room, quickly unknotting her apron and tossing it onto the hook. She was so lost in her thoughts about where she would hide her tip money – a whopping 50 dollars – that she didn't hear Granny come up behind her. Belle jumped when the woman tapped her on the shoulder.

Granny pressed a grease-spotted paper bag into her hands. "Granny, I can't…"

"You'll take it if I say you take it." Granny insisted. A look of pity crossed the older woman's face, and Belle felt a flash of anger rise up in her gut. Moe French was well known around town as a drunkard and a gambler, and Belle had lived with people's pity all her life; she didn't need any from her employer. "You were skin and bones when you started here, and I can't very well let you continue that way. Understood?" Belle nodded weakly, mortified. She hated that her home life was spread all over town like the plague, coming to devour their children and demolish their homes. She hated the whispers she could hear following her down the street, whispers filled with equal parts pity and disgust. Echoes of saccharine-sweet social workers and clingy teachers filled her mind, and Belle smiled like she was trained to.

"Thank you." Belle tucked the bag into her satchel, and Granny smiled before going back out to the front. Belle could hear discordant strains of an argument floating through the open kitchen door, and made her way out the back exit. She had been in the middle of too many of Granny and Ruby's arguments, and had no desire to be pulled into another.

Belle pulled her thin coat tighter around her small body as a biting wind ripped through the alley, and quickened her steps. She had paid the heating bill just last week, meticulously scraping together whatever money her father hadn't managed to sniff out and promptly hand over. Thankfully, she had gotten their heating turned back on for a month, and she could stop worrying that they were going to freeze, at least temporarily.

As she passed the pawnshop, Belle couldn't stop her eyes from looking in, admiring the row of novels positioned right by the window. Her numb fingers reached for the door handle – surely it couldn't hurt to look, right?

No. They were barely scraping by as it was. There was no way she would ever be able to afford anything in that shop. Belle tucked her fingers back into her coat pockets and hastened away, all the while filled with a longing to turn around and just look for another fleeting moment. However, it would do her no good to dwell on dreams of comfort that she could never have and Belle determined to be content with the few worn novels she did have left.

Belle hit the front door and was immediately confronted with the smell of smoke and beer, and heard raucous laughter come from the living room. Great. Her father had his gambling friends over. She slipped her tip money into one of the books sitting on the table by the door and slunk into the kitchen, hoping she could get food and go upstairs without being noticed.

"Bells!"

Of course. "Yes, Dad?" Belle called from the kitchen, pushing aside beer after beer in the fridge to make room for the bag Granny had sent home with her. Hopefully, if her father didn't find her tip money, she could go grocery shopping tomorrow. Sure enough, she could already hear shuffling, things being lifted up and set back down with a thud. Please don't touch my books. The kitchen door swung open, and the sour scent of beer filled the room.

"That's just what I like to see – a woman on her knees."

Belle jumped to her feet, shutting the refrigerator door with a quiet click. A tall, muscular, conventionally attractive man stood in the doorway, leaning arrogantly against the frame. His eyes swept up and down her form, lingering with some eagerness on her breasts, and she wished she had kept her coat on. Everything, from the gold watch she could see gleaming on his wrist to the way he carried himself, screamed power and wealth. It would do neither her nor her father any good to make him angry. With some reluctance, Belle bit down the revulsion and the snappy replies, and said, "I'm sorry, you scared me. Who are you?"

Her dad chose that moment to stumble in. "Ah, Belle, I see you've met Gary Prince." He clapped Gary on the shoulder and smiled widely, but Belle wasn't fooled. She could see the desperation in her dad's eyes, and the predatory gleam in Prince's as he took in her dad's slurred words and wobbly posture. Whatever game they were playing tonight, it wasn't going well.

Belle painted on a hostess smile and asked, "Was there something you needed, Mr. Prince?"

"I just needed another beer." Without giving her a chance to even turn and open the fridge, he stepped closer, too close, effectively pinning her between himself and the counter. She tried not to flinch away, the smell of his strong cologne filling her nose and making her want to gag. His eyes bore into hers, only occasionally flicking away to watch what his hand was doing in the fridge. Once he had his beer, Prince stepped back, and Belle felt like she could breathe again. "And it's Gary to you, babe." He tugged one of her curls gently, and finally left, cracking his beer and tossing the cap casually over his shoulder, where it landed with a clink on the floor.

"Papa, what the hell was that?"

"He's just one of my gambling buddies, Belley. You have nothing to worry about." Moe reassured, reaching out to hug her. Belle stepped out of his grip, placing gentle hands on his shoulders. He finally looked at her, and she didn't like what she saw. For one moment, she saw some clarity return, and she risked a single question.

"Papa, what's happening?" Belle asked. A clatter from the next room over distracted them, and when she looked back to her Papa, the father was gone and in his place was the careless gambler again. "Papa, please."

"I'm losing right now. Don't worry dove, I'll win the next round, and then I'll be able to give you anything. I know it's been difficult for you since your mom died, but I promise I'll make it better once I win."

"But Papa –"

"Moe, bring some beers out, would you?" She heard Gary call from the living room. "Let's get the next round started."

"Don't you worry, Belley. I'll win this one." Moe sidestepped her and grabbed two six-packs, shoving one unceremoniously into her arms. "Now help me with these beers, dove." He pressed a sloppy kiss onto her forehead, and she sighed. Sometimes, her father would get lucky and win a couple hundred bucks, and Belle could eat something that didn't come from a can or get thrown in the microwave. He had once won a thousand dollars and had surprised her with a brand new bookshelf.

Inevitably, the pain of their mother's passing would get to him again, and their money would begin to dwindle as more and more alcohol made its way into the house. Desperate, Moe would then start to gamble again; promising her each time that once he won, he would stop. Belle had stopped hoping for him to quit on his own, or even quit with help, and did what she could to safeguard them both against eviction, making any kind of independence merely a pipe dream.

They reentered the living room, and Moe smiled largely at the group of men circled around the table. "Boys, you know my Belle." He introduced her. Belle nodded politely, passing beers to those who wanted one. As she was passing Gary to hand a bottle to Killian Jones – who made her more than uncomfortable with his staring at her breasts, his tongue peeking out and touching his bottom lip – one of his hands snapped out and wrapped casually around her waist.

"Are you going to give one of those to me, sunshine?" Gary slurred. Belle nearly snapped and told him exactly where she would be giving him one of the beers, but one look at her father's desperate face had her think better of it. Belle reluctantly cracked a beer and set it on the table in front of him.

"Thanks, babe." Gary slapped her on the ass, and raucous, discordant laughter rose up all around the table, threatening to pull her in and drown her in a rush of bad cologne and sour beer. Moe sent her off with a wave of his hand, and she tried not to look like she was running away as she fled up the stairs to her books and some peace.

When she woke the next morning, she could smell something cooking on the stove. Odd. Her father usually didn't get out of bed until noon or one, especially when he's had 'friends' over the night before. A sleepy glance at her alarm clock told her it was only around nine in the morning. He shouldn't be up yet.

She stumbled down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Belle froze in the doorway when she saw Gary standing at the stove, picking through her bag from Granny and tossing whatever could be fried onto a pan. "Hey there, babe." He said when he noticed her in the doorway, looking barely worse for wear for a man who had drank heavily the night before. He ogled her breasts, concealed only by the thin tank top she wore, and Belle tugged the neck of it higher uncomfortably. "Sit down, I made breakfast."

This sudden character change was throwing her for a loop, and if asked, she would blame that for the words that spilled out of her mouth next. "What are you still doing here?" Belle grumbled, and all the sudden, she was on the floor, her cheek burning and her eyes watering. Gary loomed above her, fists clenched and Belle felt a rush of fear go through her.

"Now, I go through all this work to make us all breakfast, and I get you bitching at me. That's no way to repay my kindness." Gary tutted, and Belle didn't like how he said the word 'us'. 'Us' implied family; 'us' brought hazy memories of early mornings and her mother laughing as her father attempted to flip pancakes and got them stuck to the ceiling. There was no 'us' in this situation, there was only Gary and Belle and her father. "Your father was much too drunk last night, I helped him upstairs after everyone had left, and being that I was much too sloshed to drive home, I slept on the couch."

He offered her a hand up, and she took it hesitantly. "Thank you." Belle said, and she hated herself for how small she sounded. How weak. "And I'm sorry, I was just surprised, that's all." Gary smiled, a wide, crooked thing that would have almost made him handsome were it not for the gleam in his eyes.

"Hey, no harm, no foul, right?" Gary laughed, and Belle forced herself to laugh along with him. His face spoke of charm and ease, but his hand was still clenched around the panhandle like Arthur clutching Excalibur. One misstep, one poorly chosen word, and he would use it just as Arthur did his sword. The tension in the room was lifted as she heard her father clomping down the stairs, groaning and cursing, obviously not shaking off his hangover as well as Gary had.

"Gary?" Moe slurred, and Belle automatically reached for the ibuprofen and a bottle of water. Before she could reach it, Gary had it out, pouring two into Moe's hand and set a bottle of water before the shaking man. "What are you doing here?" Moe asked.

"It's funny, Belle just asked me the same thing." Gary laughed, but Belle couldn't find in herself to do the same, the sting on her cheek still too fresh to joke about. She simply turned, watching the food cook and making sure it didn't burn. "We were both too drunk, Moe. I couldn't drive, so I hope you don't mind if I slept on the couch."

"No, not at all. I'm just not used to seeing anyone but Belle here in the mornings." Moe grunted. "No inconvenience at all for such good friends, right Belley?" There was something in his voice she couldn't understand, a kind of sadness that hadn't been there last night.

"No, Papa." Belle answered. "We're happy to have you here, Gary." The lie burned as it whooshed past her lips, and she hoped he didn't notice the clipped tone or the anger flaring in her eyes. A man who took what was probably the last of Papa's money away, and she was expected to just accommodate him in her own home? "Would you mind getting the plates?" Belle asked; if Gary wanted to be a part of 'us', she would make him a part of the preparations as well.

Gary stood next to her, making as to lean over and inspect what she was cooking. His hand slipped under her tank top and squeezed her waist painfully, and he hissed in her ear, "You don't order me around, dove." Belle nodded, and his nails dug into her skin, "Now laugh as if I said something really funny." Belle forced a near-hysterical laugh out of her mouth, and to her relief, the nails receded and the pressure decreased. Gary pressed a dry kiss to her cheek, and she tried not to flinch away.

"Moe, how did you raise such a lovely daughter?" Gary asked, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he left and leaned on the counter across from Moe, the posture more closely resembling a wolf on the hunt than a casual conversation between friends. "Shall we?" Gary gestured to the table, and Belle dished out food as Moe and Gary debated local politics. The scene was too familial, and she didn't like it, not at all. Belle picked at her food with her fork, her stomach in too much of a knot to even try to eat.

"Belley?" She was pulled out of her distraction by her father's shaking voice. Belle glanced up and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Gary was on one knee before her, holding out a small golden ring that looked suspiciously like one from her mother's jewelry box.

"Belle French, will you marry me?" Gary asked.

"Papa, will you excuse us, please?" Belle said, her voice almost shaking as a look of rage crossed Gary's face at being ignored. Moe needed no more opportunity than that, bolting out of the room with an expression close to shame. "Gary, I'm sorry, but I barely know you. It would take quite some time before I was comfortable accepting a proposal." She prepared herself for the blow, but she was surprised when he only laughed.

"Oh, Belle. You have to marry me; asking was only a formality." Gary gloated. She tore at her napkin, and had a sudden flash of gratitude that she had not eaten anything; her stomach surely would have rejected it.

"I don't understand." Belle said, and she could hear echoes of her younger self in that sentence. 'I don't understand' when her father picked her up early from school and took her to her mother in the hospital. 'I don't understand' when she was twelve and a social worker asked her if she was being hurt. 'I don't understand' when she was fifteen and she had to bail her father out of jail for the first time.

"Your father has gambled away everything you own. The stakes last night were a little too high, and he lost. In a last-ditch attempt to win something back, he gambled your hand in marriage in exchange for the deed to the house." Gary crowed, looking far too pleased with himself for her tastes.

"That's not legally binding." Belle protested.

He wrapped his hands casually around her wrists, and the symbolism was not lost on her. "If you marry me, I will let your father keep this house, and support him as much as I am able. He's a good man, and after all, we would be family." Belle tried not to shudder with revulsion. "However, if you don't, you and your father would be out on the street in an hour, and I have people waiting to spread your shame all around town. No one would take you in."

Belle cried softly, horrified at either prospect, and he took her face in his hand, squeezing just a tad too tightly to be accidental. "Come now, dove, don't cry. I don't like to see you cry."

She would not see her Papa out on the streets. Granny would take her in as soon as look at her, but even she didn't hold any sympathy for Moe. The choice was all too clear. "I will marry you." Belle forced a smile onto her face, and as Gary twirled her in his arms, she wondered what kind of hell she had just thrown herself into.