"Rule three: I can't bring people back from the dead. It's not a pretty picture. I don't like doing it!"

Papa's impression of the ancient genie boomed across the grand dining hall, and Adam's laughter flitted along after it. Papa always made him laugh; he made all his sons laugh, in fact, for he was full of wild stories that only his youngest was too naïve to realize were grand exaggerations.

Adam knelt in his chair now, leaning as far as he could from his place at the end of the table in order to catch Papa's every word. Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells… a prince in disguise. Well, Aladdin wasn't a real prince, Adam figured, not like him.

Though he sure had a lot of camels.

Adam's eyes brightened then, and he leaned further over the table. "Papa!" he cried. "Can we get a camel too?"

His father roared with laughter. "Ha! But why not?" he grinned. "A camel each, for all my boys!"

The four youngest sons cheered, while the two oldest chuckled. So preoccupied were they all that they nearly missed it when the door opened and a beautiful woman stepped into the dining hall. Her pale blond hair, so carefully set that morning, was now ruffled and dusted with snow.

"Maman!" cried the twins, Jacques and John.

"Where were you?" asked Aaron, the second youngest.

Maman opened her mouth to speak, but Papa was quicker. "Your mother," he declared, raising his fork, "has made it her duty to tend to every dying peasant from here to the border."

"Not every one," Maman said quietly.

"I don't know why you bother, my dear," Papa went on, picking up his knife and slicing through the large leg of ham that sat before him. "Pearls before swine, I say."

Maman pursed her lips, but said nothing more. Instead she moved to the other side of the table, and sat very slowly as one of the footman pulled out her chair. She looked sad, Adam thought, and he wondered why.

"Papa," he said suddenly, brightening as an idea formed in his mind. "Do the genie part again, for Maman!"

The princess looked over at him, a question in her eyes.

"It will make you smile," Adam whispered.

Her gaze softened. She reached out, and squeezed his small hand. "You already do."

Papa had already obliged him his request, and the laughter entered the room once again. But almost as soon as he'd started another figure stepped into the hall— a tall, rotund man who didn't break from his stiff posture as he leaned down to whisper in his master's ear. The man pulled a small pocket watch from his vest, tapping the glass face in earnest.

"Ah! Duty calls," Papa sighed, pushing back his heavy chair and rising from the table.

Adam watched his father leave, folding his arms and pouting. "I wish Papa wasn't king," he pouted. "He's always so busy. When I grow up I'll never work as much as he does."

"He's not king," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. The second-born glanced at his older brother, David, adjusting his posture to match before looking back at Adam. "Just a ruling prince. That's why it's called a princedom, dummy."

Adam stuck out his tongue in reply.

"It's all right, Adam. You'll never have to worry about that," David said, smiling at him from his place beside Papa's empty seat. "You've got all of us in line before you."

Another boy leaned forward and grinned. "Unless he decides to gut us."

"Aaron!" Maman gasped. Jacques immediately made jabbing motions towards Jean's belly, who was making a very believable impression of being strangled.

"I won't gut you," Adam told them all seriously, jabbing a thumb to his chest. "'Cause when I grow up, I'm leaving this boring place forever."

"That's the only reason?" David smirked.

Adam didn't hear him, for he was too preoccupied with pushing out his heavy chair and climbing onto his seat. He stepped up onto the table with one foot, nearly tipping his dinner to the floor. "I want adventure!" he declared, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his tiny chest as far as it would go. "In the great, wide…" He blinked, thinking very hard for a moment before finally settling on: "…somewhere."

His brothers laughed at him, but Adam only grinned. "Anywhere but here, I guess."

"Off the table, sweetheart," Maman chided him, though her smile had returned. "You can't be rid of us all just yet."

Belle woke up cold.

When she opened her eyes, she was staring at a dying fire. She frowned, rolling over slowly beneath the covers so as to preserve their warmth. On her other side, bright yellow eyes were waiting for her.

"Cesar," she whispered. She could see her breath. "Are you cold too?"

He inched closer, whining an affirmative. Belle lifted the covers up just long enough to let him slip inside, a rush of cold air following behind him.

Belle glanced to the window. She hadn't kept the hour for weeks— Adam had no clocks, as far as she knew— but by the amount of light coming through his west-facing window, she must have slept quite late. Which made sense, given she'd stayed up reading Othello to some unknown hour. But—

"He never came home?" she asked, running her fingers over Cesar's soft back as he pressed against her chest. "Didn't he said he'd be back before dawn?"

A long purr answered her. Frowning again, Belle fought between the urge to remain in what little warmth the two of them had created and the need to investigate. About a minute passed before the latter won out. Cesar whined when she stood, and so Belle quickly threw several more logs on the fire before crossing the room to pull on her cloak and boots with chattering teeth.

Two hours later, Belle was trekking back to the house with a full pail of milk. She'd followed Adam's tracks everywhere she could manage across the mountaintop, but having been previously married to a very talkative hunter Belle had gleamed enough knowledge to determine that none of the tracks were fresh. And when she found the barn, she knew he hadn't been there, for Bonne still needed to be milked. Belle had even checked the outhouse, pausing momentarily over the deep hole in the ground but judging the latrine to be far too small for him to fall in. She shouted down anyway, just to be sure.

Back at the house, she poured the milk into an upright barrel in the corner, then fell into Adam's chair as Cesar licked the pail clean. Othello was waiting for her, and she picked it up tiredly, opening it to the place she'd marked with the small note Adam had left her.

Yet the words held none of the wonder they had the night before. Belle sighed, frustrated, replacing the note and shutting the book in defeat.

"If you need me back for any reason at all, throw that into the fire."

Belle blinked, opening the pages slowly once again and staring at her name written in his rough cursive. She pulled the note out slowly, staring at it for a moment longer before letting her focus shift to the flames now roaring in the hearth beside her.

No, she thought quickly, shaking her head and tucking the parchment back between the pages. That's foolish. If Adam was delayed somewhere, burning the note would only worry him for nothing.

Belle grit her teeth, sliding the book between the chair's cushion as she wrapped an arm around her middle. Her old wounds were flaring from the morning's exertion… but that was nothing to the panic now kindling in her gut.

And so Belle rose to her feet once again. She couldn't rest, no matter how much her body now begged her to. Especially when there was still one place she hadn't checked.

A half hour later, however, and still she hadn't looked. She knew this was the place— she'd followed his old tracks here, to the ledge that dropped off into the forests far below. It was the same place she'd come when she had tried to—

Belle squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her cloak tight. That was only part of the reason she couldn't force herself to look. The other was that she'd already seen one body dashed to pieces at the bottom of a cavern, and couldn't bear to see another. Especially when this time, it was someone she actually…

Belle quickly shook her head. She didn't know the end to that thought, and she certainly didn't want to continue imagining all the terrible somethings she might see on the other side of that ledge. And so, with a burst of courage, she took a careful step forward and peered over.

Nothing but miles of woods, fog, and an overwhelming sense of vertigo greeted her. Belle stepped back quickly, leaning against the trunk of the nearest pine. If he had fallen on his climb… she wouldn't be able to tell. Not from way up here.

Maybe… maybe he wanted to be rid of you after all…

Belle closed her eyes, but couldn't find it in herself to be angry at the voice's return. Not when it sounded so afraid. He wouldn't abandon his house, she thought, breath hollow the freezing air as she tried to stay calm. And he wouldn't abandon me.

The girl in her mind was wringing her hands together. Maybe he was spotted. Captured. Or—

"Hush," Belle said. Her breath formed in the cold air, and the wind carried it into the valley below.

This was— you were so foolish to let him go alone! the voice continued, unable to leave it alone. How could you not have considered this? You're going to starve to death, trapped and alone on this freezing mountain!

Oh, so now you want to live? Belle snapped back. She was growing afraid too. Make up your mind.

The voice went quiet for a heartbeat. He's… changed things, somehow, she admitted. But I've always tried to protect you. That's never changed.

What? Belle asked, but the girl had vanished somewhere into the depths of her mind. And so she stared back into the dark, distant forests.

It started to snow.

"Adam," she whispered, clutching her cloak and feeling colder than she had in weeks. "Where are you?"

The first time Adam escaped death, he was still a boy.

He'd gone to bed dreaming of magic lamps and carpets. But soon they melted into a pool of quick sand, an endless desert spreading out all around him and swallowing him whole. Over and over he drowned in it, the rough sand scalding and scarring his flesh as it pulled him to the center of the earth.

An eternity must have passed before he gasped for air, waking in his own bed. Someone was singing a lullaby.

"Maman?"

The room was dark, but for a single candle quivering near the bed. He felt wet all over; sick in every limb and cavity of his body. Raspy breathing filled the air that took him several moments to realize was his own.

"Maman…" he whimpered, reaching a trembling hand into the darkness.

The singing stopped. A hand met his, but it was too rough to be hers. "Oh, my little prince," came a gentle voice. "I thought we'd lost you too."

Another candle sprang to life. His nurse, Mrs. Potts, watched him from the shadows, eyes red and wet. Adam stared back blankly. "Where's Maman?" he asked. His head fell sideways, and he stared at Aaron's empty bed across the room. "Where are my brothers?"

Mrs. Potts gripped his hand. "O-oh," she whispered, but only shook her head.

Adam didn't understand. He didn't even remember how he'd gotten here. He just wanted the pain to go away, and so he closed his eyes again and wished for sleep.

Somewhere nearby, a door opened. Footsteps grew close. "He survived," someone gasped.

"Yes," said Mrs. Potts. A cool cloth touched Adam's brow, which felt good.

"Beatrice… th-the master, he's—"

"Hush, Henry. Let him sleep," she whispered.

Adam let his breath slow, but he couldn't sleep now. And so he feigned it as best he could, and after several long minutes of silence Mrs. Potts finally spoke. "He's gone, then," she whispered.

Cogsworth hummed deeply. "Left us not a quarter hour ago."

Papa left? Where did he go? Adam still didn't understand.

"Who among us remains?" asked Cogsworth.

"That young footman you just hired, and half a dozen others. Those who aren't dead abandoned us hours ago."

Cogsworth swore. They fell quiet again.

"Where did it come from?" Mrs. Potts finally asked.

"The village… it's filled with night air. The Black Death. But she went anyway."

"Who went?"

A sigh. "The princess. It must have followed her back."

Adam's heart was in his throat. Maman? Black… death? He gripped the blankets hard, as his eyes began to burn. Did that mean—

"What does this mean?" Mrs. Potts asked beside him.

Adam could feel them turning towards him, and it was all he could do to hold back his tears and feign sleep once again.

"It means," Cogsworth replied, "that our youngest prince will be taking the crown."

Adam gasped. Alive, again, and for the first time he was relieved about it.

He couldn't yet move, and so stared sideways at the dark, drying blood spread across the floor with nothing but his thoughts and the pain of a healing body to torment him.

It had been a long time since he'd been shot. It hurt more than he remembered.

He still held the mirror between his fingers, half-soaked in blood. "Show me… Belle's name… written in my hand…" he rasped, once his voice finally returned. The glass glowed, turning the blood all around him into a glimmering green pool. Adam sighed in great relief. She's safe.

Still, it wasn't a guarantee. Even if Belle wasn't a danger to herself, life on that mountain posed plenty of threats on its own. Strong winds, slippery paths, avalanches...

He forced himself to roll over then, pushing himself onto his hands and knees while he looked towards the open barn door. The old gardener was still there, breathing shallowly where he lay. Adam let out another breath, grateful he hadn't killed yet another innocent with his foolishness. Then he glanced at the light coming into the space, soft and blue. Dawn was here.

Wanting nothing more than to lie right back down where he'd woken, Adam pushed himself to his feet. He felt himself over and found his body whole, at least on the outside. However, beneath the fresh layers of skin several bullet fragments remained, unable to find their escape before the new flesh trapped them inside.

"I'm afraid I've gotten better since I made you," the enchantress had said. Whatever the hell that meant.

Adam sighed tiredly. He'd dropped his bags far enough behind him that only the edges were touched by blood— another relief, he supposed, reaching for the first and lifting it with great effort over his shoulder. It was much, much heavier than he remembered; but then, his resurrection was only half complete. He heaved the other bag across his back, and left the barn with the weight of a world on his shoulders.

He made it the woods that bordered the estate without incident, taking refuge in the forest's deep shadows. Adam paused then, dropped his load, and emptied his stomach into the closest bush.

Just leave them, the prince said quietly.

No… Adam thought slowly, looking back at his bags. I won't let Belle starve this winter.

You can rob another home later. You'll never make it back like this.

Adam felt the air change then, and watched as the bare dustings of snow began to fall all around them. I may not have another chance. Then he frowned, glaring inward at the prince himself. And I'm tired of failing everyone who depends on me.

For the barest of moments, the prince looked hurt. Then he snarled, storming back into the depths of Adam's mind and slamming some imagined door behind him.

Adam sighed. Then he turned, heaved his load back over his shoulders, and began the long trek up the mountain.

"Adam!"

She was half-running, half-plodding towards him through the snow, a lantern swinging in one hand and the other gripping her side. Belle made a path through the snow in her wake, which was already to her knees as she closed the distance between them.

"Belle," he gasped, reaching out a hand for hers. "Thank God. You're all right."

"I'm all right?" she cried, gripping back hard. She stopped, bringing a hand to her mouth as she looked him over with wide eyes.

Adam looked down. Oh, right. The front of his clothes were still coated in dark, dried blood, which the snow had done little to wash away. He must look absolutely terrifying.

"What happened?" she managed, breathless, dropping her hand from her mouth to her neck.

"Some trigger-happy gardener happened," he grumbled.

"How are you even standing?!"

But before he could explain, Belle had somehow tugged his tired, massive form back the way she'd come and into his cabin. It seemed brighter here than he remembered, he noticed absently. Warmer, even. He was sitting now, though he couldn't remember doing so, and finally let the bags slide from his arms. His head fell back against the chair, eyes drooping shut before he could stop them.

Sleep was just starting to drag him into its peaceful darkness when the reality of all that had happened flashed through his mind like an unwelcome light.

The enchantress. I saw the enchantress.

He felt something then— Belle's fingers, undoing the sticky buttons of his shirt. "Belle," he gasped, opening his eyes and finding her standing between his legs, carefully peeling back the cloth and discarding the ruined pieces in the fire. "Belle…" he said again, anxious to witness her disgust at the sight of him, reaching up a tired paw to try and stop her. Belle batted him away, though barely batted an eye at the sticky, furry mess now staring her in the face. Instead, she parted the fur with her palms to investigate the skin underneath. Adam went still as stone as she did, finding himself unable to do anything but watch as she repeated the motion across every square inch of his chest.

At last she stopped, pulling back slowly and returning is gaze. "Where is your injury?" she asked slowly.

Oh, right. "The blood, er… isn't mine?"

"There are holes in your shirt," she said, looping her finger through his dangling breast pocket and holding it up to him. "Multiple holes. Don't you dare tell me this isn't your blood."

Adam grimaced. "Um…"

She was running her fingers over him again, and whatever Adam had meant to say gave way to the growing heat in his… well, everywhere.

Finally, Belle looked back up at him. Her eyes were quaking. "You're immortal," she breathed.

Adam registered her words somewhat belatedly, barely coming back to his senses as he replied quite breathlessly himself. "Something, um… something like that," he confessed. He shook his head quickly. "At least, dying ninety-two— actually, make that ninety-three times hasn't killed me."

He realized his mistake as soon as he said it. Belle's face grew pale in an instant, eyes growing wide where she stood. "Why have you died ninety-three times?" she asked in horror.

Not tonight. He couldn't do this tonight. He reached a hand for his chest, now cold without her hands there, and felt those lumps of broken bullets still trapped beneath this skin. He sighed deeply. "I'm going to need a drink."

Belle blinked quickly, and her brows came slowly together. Adam started to stand, but she pushed him back down and made her way slowly across the small room to enter his cellar herself. A minute later she climbed back up, setting a small bottle of whisky on the floor.

Adam grimaced. "I'll need more than that," he admitted.

She stopped where she stood, halfway out of the floor, and frowned deeply. "You're kidding."

"It takes a lot to numb this body."

Belle bristled head to toe. "And why do you need to do that?!"

Adam stared at her. He'd never seen Belle angry before. What had he—?

And then he heard it. The faint clinking of that bottle against the floor, held by trembling fingers drained of all their blood. His heart sank at the sight of it. Belle wasn't angry; she was afraid. "Oh, Belle…" Damn it. How could he have been such an insensitive brute? "I… I should have explained. I didn't mean… The bullet fragments, I need to cut them out. I just wanted something to dull the pain."

Belle's eyes went wide, and at once her demeanor softened.

"I won't grow angry, or dangerous," he promised. Not like him. "Only tired. But… you know what, it doesn't matter. I can just leave the bullets alone, they'll eventually—"

"No." Belle looked away, squeezing her eyes shut as all the tension melted from her body. It left her looking small. "I… forgive me. I didn't understand. I thought…" She pursed her lips, ducking back into the cellar and bringing back a second, larger jug. "Is this enough?" she asked quietly.

Adam nodded in shame.

She brought the jug and a glass over, set them on the windowsill, then poured him a drink. "Here," she said bravely, handing it to him. "You work on that, and we'll get you cleaned up."

Adam took the drink from her, but didn't take a sip. Instead, he watched while Belle busied herself heating a fresh kettle over the fire, watched while she filled the only bucket he owned with steaming water and started to soak up the blood from his chest with a rag she'd apparently summoned from midair.

She was so kind, so good. He didn't deserve her.

What's that you say? asked the prince cheekily.

Didn't deserve to have her here, Adam amended. He looked to the window, and sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should have remembered that about him." That Gaston had been a drunkard, angry and violent, and that the more he drank the worse she'd been hurt.

Belle shook her head as she worked. "No. Don't apologize. You hurt yourself helping me, and I only lashed out at you."

"You had a good reason to."

Belle paused in her motions, and closed her eyes. It was a long moment before she spoke. "I didn't used to be like this," she said at last. "So weak, so… afraid. I used to be…" But she didn't finish, sighing as she turned to plunge the red-stained rag back in the water.

Adam wished he knew what to say. He wished he hadn't been so thoughtless in the garden, hadn't so thoughtlessly asked for a drink when he should have known how it would make her feel. He watched while she worked, and truly felt like the monster he was.

"So," Belle said a minute later. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Adam sucked in another breath, and closed his eyes. "I saw her again," he said quietly. "The… enchantress."

Belle froze, eyes flashing up to meet his. "What?" she gasped.

Adam finally tossed back his drink, though its warmth barely touched the ice in his chest. "Yeah," he said at last, sighing and setting the empty glass back on the windowsill. "I nearly wet myself."

Belle didn't laugh. She only stared at him as the water dripped from the forgotten rag in her hands. "What did she want?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, actually…" Something inside Adam's stomach turned over. He looked down, staring at the water as it pooled along the floor. "She didn't even remember me."

The dripping water became a stream, and Adam realized Belle's hands had formed into fists that were squeezing every last drop from the rag. He looked up, and watched her expression as she now looked towards the hearth. The fire reflected brightly in her eyes as they narrowed. "I knew it," she said softly.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," she said, abandoning the cloth in order to pour him a second drink twice as large as the first. When she looked back at him, that fire in her eyes only seemed fiercer as she pressed it into his hand. "So she did this to you."

"Oh, no," he said quickly. "This was… something else. Kind of. I mean…" He sighed. "Let me start again."

And so he did, relating the show of magic he'd witnessed, the servant girl with the new form, the meeting in the barn— and that stupid old gardener.

Belle was quiet, clearly deep in thought.

"I should have asked her to…" Asked her to what? Change him back? Adam shook his head. "Actually, I don't know what I should have done. She was…" He wrinkled his brow. "She wasn't what I remember. Or maybe she was. I just… I don't know." He couldn't talk straight. He couldn't think straight.

Belle reached out, and took his free hand in hers. Adam felt at little calmer as she did.

"It wasn't how I imagined meeting her again would go," he said quietly. "And I can't help but feel I made a terrible mistake. Again."

Belle frowned at that. "I'm not sure what any of this means…" She squeezed his fingers gently. "But you didn't do anything wrong."

Adam looked at the drink in his other hand, at the cursed fingers that held it. He scowled. "I always do something wrong."

Belle grew very still. She brought her other hand to his, both holding his one as though it were something very delicate. "Adam," she said. Her voice was shallow, careful as she spoke. "What… what has killed you so many times?"

He nearly started. Indeed, he had the sudden urge to bolt out of this house and back for the woods from which he'd come.

She shouldn't have known enough to ask it. But somehow she had, somehow she'd sensed it.

Don't tell her, the prince said, suddenly frantic. Not this. Anything but this.

Adam pursed his lips. Maybe the prince was right. Maybe he shouldn't tell her, not with what she'd nearly done herself. He swallowed, and met Belle's eyes. She was watching him quietly, patiently, not pressing him but simply waiting. No, perhaps it was wrong to tell her after all she'd been through. But perhaps, at the same time… that meant she'd understand. And maybe, in a strange way, it would help her feel less alone.

And so, ignoring the prince's pleas, Adam spoke the truth. "I have."

The pain broke over Belle's face in an instant. But he barely saw it before she stepped forward, letting her head rest against his chest and her fingers bury themselves into his damp fur. She trembled with sorrow, but said nothing. Because she knew.

Adam quickly set his glass on the floor so he could bring both arms around her. She buried herself deeper against him; he cradled her head in his paw. "Don't cry, Belle. Not for me," he said softly. He let his claws retract so he could hold her even closer. "Perhaps I shouldn't have told you."

She shook her head where she stood, though her shoulders continued to tremble.

"It's been many years since I last tried… if you can even call it trying. I've known for a long time my efforts were in vain."

"Th-then why," Belle whispered. "Why keep doing that to yourself?"

Don't, begged the prince.

Adam breathed in that old, familiar darkness. It crept through the floorboards, the cracks in the walls, filling the room and the empty cavern in his heart. "Because," he rasped, letting it consume him. "I killed them. All of them. Every man, woman… every child that was in my care."

Stop… the prince said hollowly. He sat back in the corner of Adam's thoughts, arms wrapped around his legs and head tucked between his knees. Please… stop.

"All dead, because I was a selfish, arrogant fool."

The prince was weeping now, but Adam wasn't. He only felt anger. Anger at that bastard prince, anger at himself for something he would never be able to make right. "I deserved to die for what I'd done," he said roughly. "Over and over until I'd suffered for every death I'd caused."

"N-no," Belle gasped, pulling back and staring at him with wide, wet eyes. "No, you didn't— she killed them, Adam. Don't you see? That witch—"

"Enchantress," he corrected quickly, glancing towards the window.

"That witch is to blame, not you," Belle persisted. She pulled back further, wiped her eyes against her sleeve, and gave him a look so resolute he didn't dare argue with her. "What kind of curse punishes a hundred people for the sins of one man?" she demanded. "That was no lesson to be taught— that was cruelty of a magical being acting on a whim, with no consequences for her own actions."

Adam opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. That was sort of the impression he gotten in the garden. He shook his head. "But I was the one who—"

"Who what? Was an impulsive, self-centered teenager? What a concept," Belle huffed, throwing her hands in the air. The movement made her grimace, so she put them back to her side and waved off his concerns as she went on. "Look. Accept whatever responsibility you will for your own fate, but I'm sorry, I will not allow you to take the blame for the rest."

Adam had watched in speak with great amazement. "You're only trying to make me feel better."

"Because you should," Belle said matter-of-factly. "I am not one to skirt the truth. I am, in fact, incredibly blunt."

And finally, Adam smiled. "I'm starting to see that."

She blinked, opened her mouth in surprise, then wrinkled her nose as she reached out to pinch him. Adam chuckled.

"Well, anyway," Belle said, trying and failing not to smile. She'd come close again, hands resting lightly on his chest. Adam let one paw rest lazily on her hip. "If she ever shows up again, I won't hesitate to give her a piece of my mind."

He played with a loose thread at her waist, and grinned. "You'd probably come out of that conversation a lot hairier."

She laughed, long and sweet, reaching up as she did to brush away the fur from his eyes. The motion sent a burning wave from Adam's head to down to the tips of his wolfish toes. While she turned back to retrieve the rag, he reached for his glass and downed the second drink in a single gulp.

The darkness had vanished without him even realizing it. Hidden beneath the floorboards, perhaps, ready to return at any moment… but for now, everything seemed all right. Sure, the prince was pissed at him for what he'd shared, but the real him felt light as air.

Though that could have been the whisky.

"How do you feel?" Belle asked quietly.

She'd finished cleaning the last of the blood, and he'd nearly finished the bottle. And indeed, the room certainly wasn't as steady as normal. "Mm, ready," he mumbled. Pulling back, he examined his chest and let a single claw free. "All right," he said, sucking in a deep breath. "Here we go."

"Sacrebleu!" Belle cried. "What are you doing?!"

Adam frowned. "I have to get them out." Wasn't that obvious?

"Not like that, you don't." She stood, turning and pointing to his bed. "Lie down. I'll do it."

Adam looked at the rug by the fire. It looked unusually cozy. "Okay."

Belle was shaking her head at something as she helped him to the floor. "The needle, and thread," she said. "Did you get it?"

He laid down on his back, thinking very hard about that. "Mm, no… I mean, you don't need it," he said at last. "Actually… my flesh will probably fight you."

Her eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly pursed her lips. She nodded, then stood and started looking through the small kitchen area. "A… a knife… do you have none?" she asked.

"I do… oh, wait." He'd hidden them all. Except… "There's one in my belt."

Adam concentrated very hard on the swirling distortions in the ceiling while she found the latter.

"All right," Belle said, his knife in one hand and a clean rag in the other. She bit her lip hard, staring at his chest as her face lost most of its color. "Just… hold still."

The whiskey wasn't enough. It never was. Adam drew an arm over his eyes, and grit his teeth. "That hurts…" he moaned.

"I know," Belle said softly. She dabbed away the fresh blood while his skin healed over, dropping a piece of metal into the bowl near her knee.

Cesar appeared from somewhere, nestling against him. "I-I changed my mind," he gasped, digging into the blankets with his claws. "Just leave them."

"We're nearly done."

Adam was panting and trembling like mad by the time the last fragment was freed. He hadn't yelled, at least. He focused on breathing normally now, the ceiling above still fuzzy from pain and whiskey. He let his focus shift around the room in an effort to distract himself. "You… you cleaned," he managed, finally realizing what had changed. "You weren't supposed to."

"I have standards, you know," Belled teased. "And besides… I couldn't just read all day not knowing what had happened. So it was either keep my hands busy, or pace a hole in your floor."

Her words left him feeling tender. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"I'm sorry you were hurt helping me." Her shoulders fell as she said it, and she stared sadly at her hands while she washed them clean.

Adam, thinking little and feeling everything, lifted a paw to touch her cheek. She looked up quickly, eyes growing wide as he tucked his fingers into her hair and spoke. "I'd take a thousand bullets to have you here with me."

Belle blushed, and her gaze grew soft. But almost at once her face fell again, and she took his paw between her hands and pulled it down into her lap. "You've been drinking," she said gently. She looked away.

Had he done something wrong? He must have, but sleep pulled at his mind and aching body and soon enough he'd forgotten about it all together.

Belle gathered up the mess, and turned to stand. "Wait—" Adam gasped, a sudden, unexplainable panic rousing him from the claws of sleep. He reached out to her again. "Don't leave."

Belle turned back. And then, slowly, she smiled. He didn't know why, but as she took his outstretched hand and knelt back down beside him, it didn't seem to matter. Without letting go, she reached behind her and pulled one of the furs over him. And her.

She was tucked in the crook of his arm now, nestled against his side, their joined hands pulled to her heart. He felt the brush of her lips against his knuckles. "I promised to stay, remember?" she whispered.

Sleep took him then, and Adam let it. For he was no longer afraid of waking up alone.