Just a little change

Small to say the least

Gaston sat in his favorite chair by the tavern fire. He was growing sulkier by the minute as he mulled over Belle's rejection. LeFou sat beside him quietly. Good old LeFou, Gaston could always count on him to see things his way.

"Picture it, LeFou."

He described the idyllic scene of his home with Belle then grumbled his frustration over her refusal to be his wife.

LeFou gave a heavy sigh. "Well, Gaston, have you tried seeing things from her perspective?"

"Have I what?"

Gaston turned towards his oldest friend. This was not what he was expecting, certainly not what he was wanting. He wanted some solid sympathy. He wanted Lefou to say he was completely dumbfounded by Belle's lack of enthusiasm, and that he didn't understand how any woman could be immune to Gaston's considerable charms.

LeFou gave him a measured look. "You know very well that Belle is...special," he finished delicately.

This was perfectly true. The rest of the village thought her odd. Her independent spirit only added to her beauty as far as Gaston was concerned.

"Go on."

"I just think you should try to look at your...erm...proposal through her eyes. Think about what you said, and about what you did. Try and see it all from her point of view. That's all."

With that LeFou gave him a strange, sad look and rose to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going home, Gaston. I'm...tired."

LeFou was still looking at him with that weird expression. Gaston had noticed it more and more of late. He could not for the life of him figure out why Lefou kept looking at him that way. At first he had assumed it was jealousy, that LeFou was growing envious of his good looks and popularity. The more he saw of the expression though, the less that explanation seemed to make sense. No matter, he had more important matters to ponder. He considered Lefou's advise. He thought back over his advances towards Belle and tried his best to see them all as she would. He was having very limited success. Belle was a mystery to him.

Gaston felt light fingers caress his hair. He jerked around to find Agathe reaching towards him. It must have been a trick of the firelight, but Gaston would have sworn a misty, golden glow was hanging around her fingers.

"Any spare coins?" The old crone asked.

Gaston never gave Agathe money, but for some reason as he stared into her eyes his face softened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins for her.

"Thank you, Monsieur Gaston, you'll be blessed."

Gaston nodded and returned to thinking about Belle. He considered all that had passed between them, somehow now he could see it all clearly from her perspective. He winced as his own arrogance became clear to him. She had been upset about how the villagers had treated her simply because she had tried to teach a young girl to read. Instead of acknowledging her frustration, Gaston had more or less told her that the only children she needed to worry about were their children. God, but he was an assuming ass! Worse than that, he had told her she would end up a begging spinster if she didn't marry him. What in Hell was wrong with him? No wonder she had looked at him with such disgust. Her cabbages, he had carelessly trampled right over them! He imagined her planting, tending, and weeding her little garden, and he had ruined several of her cabbages. Well, that at least was something he could fix.

Belle was sitting in her favorite reading spot when she heard a strange noise coming from the front of the cottage. Papa had left for the market the day before, so it couldn't be him. She opened the front door to find Gaston kneeling in the dirt digging around the bottom of one of the cabbages he'd spoiled. Three little strawberry plants in clay pots were lined up next to him.

She huffed in frustration. "Gaston, what are you doing?"

He laid his trowel down and stood.

"Belle, I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was brash and entirely too forward. Plus I ruined your cabbages. I'm sorry."

Belle was stunned into silence. Gaston never apologized for anything. He even seemed sincere.

He reached up to rub the back of his neck with an earth covered hand. "I...um, I wanted something that would produce as soon as possible." He gestured towards the strawberry plants which all had tiny buds on them. "I was told these would flower and bear fruit soon."

He reached down behind the pots and came up with a bouquet of wildflowers. He handed them to her with a hopeful expression. Belle was still so shocked that she reached out automatically to take them. These were not flowers he had bought in town; he had actually taken the trouble to go out and pick these for her. She glanced down at the bouquet, then back up at Gaston as she fought to find her voice.

"Will you allow me to repair the damage I've done?"

Belle had an idea that he was talking about more than cabbages. She looked past him to the street where Agathe stood begging. The two women locked eyes for several moments.

"Belle?"

She jumped a little. How long had she been staring into Agathe's eyes? Gaston's voice snapped her out of a sort of trance. She turned back to him.

"May I plant these for you?"

"Yes, Gaston, you may."

She returned to the house, put her flowers in water, and tried to read her book. After several minutes she gave it up as a bad job. Unable to concentrate, she went to the window and watched Gaston work. He seemed so different from yesterday. She had been on the verge of telling him off again when she caught site of Agathe. She thought about the curious feeling that had come over her when she looked into the woman's eyes. It was certainly odd, but Belle put it from her mind. She went to fetch her own trowel and join Gaston in the garden. She needed to be certain he planted those strawberries correctly. Yes, she would supervise the planting then tell him to be on his way.

She knelt beside him in the dirt and studied his work. He had finished replacing one cabbage and moved on to the next. He'd done it perfectly. She started to help him dig out the second ruined plant.

He look up at her. "You don't have to do that, Belle. I made this mess, I'll fix it."

The corners of her traitorous mouth turned up in a smile. "It's fine, Gaston. I'd like to help."

She told herself this was just so she could ensure it was done right.

Gaston smiled back, but it wasn't his typical, arrogant smile. It was softer, kinder. "I'd like that."

They worked together in silence until all the cabbages were removed and the strawberries had taken their place. Belle looked at her hands which were caked with dirt. Gaston's were bound to be filthy as well.

"Would you like to come in and wash up?"

She didn't know what had come over her own mouth, but it seemed bent on mutiny. First smiling at him then asking if he'd like to come in, this was not how she meant things to go.

He studied her for a moment. "Yes, please, if it's not any trouble."

Just then Philippe came barreling up the street, covered to his belly in mud.

"Philippe!" Belle cried, running to the horse. "What happened? Where's Papa?"

She felt panic grip her. Papa was lost, possibly injured or ill. That was the only explanation for Philippe returning without him. She grabbed the reins and started to swing herself up onto the horse. Strong hands gripped her shoulders.

"Belle! What's going on?"

She turned to Gaston. "Papa, left yesterday for the market. He had the cart. Now Philippe's returned without it or him. Something's happened. He's in the forest, he might be hurt."

"Listen to me, Belle. That forest is very dangerous. Stay here. I'll go get my horse and cart. I'll help you look for him, but you must stay here and wait for me to return."

Gaston was searching her face. Tears started to slide down her cheeks. She couldn't speak, so she nodded. Gaston hurried away and Belle tried to control the fear that was beginning to overwhelm her.

A/N: Thank you for reading. This story will be mostly based on the 2017 version with a few lines from the 1991 version. I plan to update weekly.