Gaston finally exited the forest, eying the town before him. He would admit it to no one but he felt kind of shook up. The people would come running when they saw him. They would want to know how he did it. They would praise and worship him and they would love him. And normally he would tell them some falsehood to keep them entertained and maintain their worship. What would he do now? Any lie he told them would quickly be destroyed when Belle returned to the village. Surely, she’d want revenge. She’d come back, no doubt, and denounce his heroship, calling him a murderer. Everyone would know. He’d be ruined. Steeling himself for the mob, he made his way into town.
“GASTON!! EVERYONE HE’S BACK,” came the cry of his most loyal follower, LeFou. The little man ran up to the him. “You did it!”
Gaston cringed at the joy in LeFou’s voice. “Yes, of course I did,” Gaston said quickly trying to get away. He wanted to avoid having to give details as long as possible.
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But it wasn’t to be. Nearly all in the town rallied around him. And for once, all the attention, rattled him. The questions were a constant rapid-fire. The praise was extravagant. And everyone loved him for his bravery at killing the beast. Everyone loved him for something that was a lie. They thought he had killed a monster, but he was the monster. They thought he had been brave, but he had been a coward, begging for his life and then stabbing his rival in the back. He was no hero, he was a murderer. He was a cold-hearted killer. And soon they would all know. He had to get away, he had to run away. He had to hide.
He fought to pull away from the townspeople. He made various excused as he went towards his home next door to the tavern he had inherited from his father. He climbed the stairs to his bedchambers and he locked the door. If he had his way, he’d never open that door again.
Many days started to go by. Belle was deep seated in her grief. She had, with the help of her father, gotten the Beast’s body into a bed. And there she had stayed, keeping a futile vigil over him. Most of her time was spent in helpless tears. Her father and friends were beginning to worry. She would not eat or sleep. They feared, that unless they got through to her soon, she would follow her dear Beast.
“We have to get her out of there,” Cogsworth stated. “The Master…..he must be buried, properly.”
All heads around him fell. It was a difficult subject for them to discuss. But they knew he was right. Soon the body would begin to decay, and it wouldn’t be right to leave their master to that indignity. They had never been able to help him, not where it counted, they should at least do this. But….
“I’ve tried to pull her away,” Mrs. Potts told them, “She won’t leave him.”
“Ze poor girl, she is so lost,’ Babette, the feather duster said shaking her head. “What are we to do?”
As if on cue, Maurice came to the West Wing, as he did often, to try and get his daughter to come down to eat, or just to comfort her. He passed by the objects and pushed open the door. “Belle…”
As usual she was sobbing, her head buried in the still chest of the Beast. She could not answer her father, although on some level she had heard him call her name.
“Belle,” Maurice asked again. “Belle, my dear,” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “ Come now, you really must come down to eat.”
Belle shook her head as best she could without looking up. “I’m not hungry….” came her soft voice, hoarse from her incessant sobs.
But Maurice didn’t give up so easily this time. “Belle, come on, I insist. You haven’t eaten in days, you’re going to make yourself like this. Come now.”
“NO!” Belle shouted finally twisting around from her spot. “I said I’m not HUNGRY! I don’t WANT TO LEAVE him. Just leave me ALONE!” She was breaking down. It was hard to breathe and her chest hurt. “Just leave me alone!” She threw herself back into her previous position, sobbing into the Beast’s fur.
Maurice was scared now. Belle had never yelled at him. This scared him. And he knew that if anyone was going to help Belle, it wouldn’t be him. He wasn’t the one who could help her now. But, if he, her own father couldn’t help him, then who could. One came to mind immediately, at least that person could snap her out of this, even if she wouldn’t like it. He left the room, and went for the stables. It was her only chance, her only hope.
AN: As Maurice rushes for someone to help Belle, we are left to wonder who exactly will he bring back.
Next Chapter: Maurice talks some sense into a fleeing Gaston, and in turn he talks Belle out of her slump.