This scene made me climb out of bed at 11 o'clock at night to write it down. I've been futzing with it since Skin Deep. At this point it is just a one-shot because I don't really have any more story to go with it - yet, and honestly, there's other stuff that I need to be focusing on (like a languishing Alice fic & Script Frenzy in April), but I wanted to put this out there because Rumple & Belle = OMGOMGOMG!

Maybe it had been one too many lukewarm chicken nuggets. Maybe the boredom had finally gotten to her, maybe it was just time, maybe all of the above.

All she knew was that one day, during lunch, Mabel hadn't felt like eating. Fiddling with the plastic spoon brought to her so she could enjoy the not quite defrosted corn, then the thought struck her. She was given thirty minutes alone to eat. In that thirty minutes how far could she unscrew the cage covering the window using the flat spoon handle? It turned out - not that long. She had all loosened and still managed the time to choke down lunch before the nurse came for the tray.

The nurse was only in the room for twenty seconds and still it felt like an eternity. Any moment now, she would glance up and notice that the screws didn't look right. Or she would notice that the plastic spoon was chipped. Fighting the impulse to hold her breath, and therefore give the nurse suspicions, nearly drove her insane. Finally the door was closed and locked again and the nurse had only focused on Mabel the whole time.

Alone again, she laughed to herself. So what if they had discovered the grate was loose? What could they do other than fix it? She didn't have any privileges, unless they considered not eating with her hands a privilege. It was just a game. Something to do. It wasn't an escape attempt. Still there was a strange swell of hope. Hope for what she wasn't sure, only that she suddenly wondered if the food tray could break the window.

Her room was just below ground level, she could see the yard just on the other side of the window and climbing up would be a piece of cake. Smashing the window with an aluminum tray was bound to be loud, she would have to be quick. She spent the afternoon studying the window, scraping at the seams. After what had to have been hours, her fingers were cut and bleeding and the light outside was dimming.

The sun must be setting, she thought and, not for the first time, she began to wonder what that would look like. She had no real memories outside these four concrete walls. Except for showering twice a week, she never left her cell. She knew that the sun set and the moon would come out, she knew about cars and planes and other people. She knew her name had been her grandmother's idea; "mothers always bring extra love" she used to say, supposedly. But the memories of learning this did not exist. She could not remember her mother's name or face, or being told why they named her Mabel. She could not remember a single sunset that she had seen with her own eyes, they were all abstracts. Like something she had seen one time in a picture, even though she could not remember where the picture had come from.

Without any knowledge of the outside world, what was she planning to do if she managed to climb out into the yard? Just wait for them to catch her again? Run? But where to? Hope in her chest began to slip. What was the point of running if she was only going to be caught?

Mabel sighed and curled up on her pallet. It's best to let it go, she thought. I'll fix the screws tomorrow.

A sudden clap and growl shouted at her. Mabel's heart leapt into her throat. Rain lashed against the window, rattling it more desperately than she had even seen it before. It was as if the thunder was chastising her for giving up.

Fine, she thought to the storm, as if it were a living thing that could understand her. You keep this up during dinner and I will try.

Another clap rattled the windows even harder and some part in the back of her mind wondered if she had just struck a bargain with the weather.

It wasn't much longer before she could hear the nurse's shoes squishing against the floor, then the lock click. The nurse came in carrying her usual tray of chicken, applesauce, and green beans, though today there was a brownie. Neither spoke as the tray was placed on her pallet and the nurse backed out quickly, locking the door behind her.

As soon as the nurse was gone, Mabel finished unscrewing the grate with her bare hands. It was so much heavier than she had thought. There was a deafening clap and the grate it slipped from her fingers, knocking her over and onto the floor. She was bruised and her hands were bleeding again. Mabel's heart tried to beat its way out of her chest as she waited, holding her breath for any sign that the nurse was coming back to check. Nothing.

Her elbows and back protested as she climbed out from underneath the cage, dragging the dinner tray with her. She tried to ignore the coldness on her back that had to have been tonight's applesauce. Mabel focused on the storm outside. She waited with the tray above her head, dripping small bits of applesauce into her hair.

Not yet, not yet, not yet. A fear that the moment would never come crept into her, but she held on.

At this point, no way but forward, she thought. Just then the warning flash and she slammed the corner of the tray into the window. It had no affect. She held her breath again, trying to hear above the storm's growling for any sign that the nurse was returning. Nothing. Another warning flash and she slammed the tray into the window again, then held her breath again. Again and again she did this. Wait for the light, smash the window, hold her breath, wait. Her thirty minutes had to be up, but no one came. She would do this all night if she could. If she had to. After what had to be the tenth time, there was a crack in the window and hope revived in her chest. She was getting somewhere. With each crash, the cracks grew wider, longer, more intricate.

Finally, on try twenty two, the window collapsed. It had to have been louder than the storm, but Mabel didn't wait this time. She didn't check. She climbed out, onto the soft mud into the rain, which had not let up for all the other help it had given her tonight. It was not like she had expected, it wasn't like when she took her showers. It was angry and sloppy and cold and amazing.

A giggle ripped from her throat as she flung herself away from her box and into the world. Admittedly, a world only somewhat bigger than the one she had just left. Her yard was a courtyard in the middle of a much larger building. It was open, with only a few trees scattered around. On the other side was another door, but this was turned out to be unlocked and she slipped into the building again.

The light stung her eyes and the noises were even more deafening than the storm. There was a horrible smell, she had only had faint whiffs of it before, she had no frame of reference for it, something sharp and rotten and it was itching in her nose. Something bad had happened, people were running around so busy they didn't seem to notice a soaked, muddy young woman watching them all in awe. So many people. Mabel almost wanted to climb back into her box, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Several minutes of wandering and she finally discovered the exit. Slipping back out into the rain was such a relief.

Once she was away from the building there were fewer and fewer people and she felt better and better. She had no idea where she was going and she just didn't care. She was outside and there was no going back now.

Yes. I'm leaving it there.