OUaT: Wirewalkers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,292
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: I was watching Man on Wire when they showed Philippe Petit walking a wire with his girlfriend. Then this happened.
Summary: Belle participates in an experiment. Within "Skin Deep."
As a rule Belle steers clear of the tower that holds Rumpelstiltskin’s private chambers. She’s dispelled a great deal of the myths that surround him, but she doesn’t doubt there are truths there she’d rather be ignorant of. That said... it’s been over two days since he last emerged, and Belle’s getting worried. He needs to eat. Or does he...? She shakes her head- of course he does, he’s flesh and blood. Magic can’t truly fill an empty stomach, at best it can trick one, and she won’t allow him to do that to himself. Surely part of a caretaker’s job is to keep her employer from starving to death. Somewhere near the top of her tasks, at least.
So onwards she marches, armed with her tray of lunch. The stone turns rough and cold around her, the halls dark with only arrow slits for windows. She pauses at the slippery-looking spiral staircase. She can’t count on Rumpelstiltskin to catch her at every attack of clumsiness. She takes a breath and mounts it, with care.
Strange, harsh smells brush past her nose as she ascends. The air burns slightly on her skin. It’s dense with magic. Belle wonders half seriously if she’ll escape this adventure the same shape she is now.
She reaches the point of no return- the door at the top of the staircase. She puts an ear to it, and hears nothing. She tries to imagine the worst response she could get. Would he transform her into a toad for the rest of the afternoon? He would change her back. The estate still needs cleaning after all, and they have a deal. Or, instead, perhaps he would feel invaded. Hurt by her uninvited presence. That, more than the threat of angry magic hurled at her, almost sends Belle down the steps. She sighs, You silly girl. Can’t you be a professional for one solid second?
She gives the door two authoritative wraps. And gets no response. She tries again. Still nothing. “Fine,” she mutters, “I consider this an unspoken invitation.” She shifts the tray to her hip and pushes against the door. With only a little effort, it swings inward, revealing more steps curving around to an open space above. Belle squints as she peers up into purple clouds sparkling with webs of gold that obscure the ceiling. They’re strangely difficult to look at, and they fade away the more she tries. She focuses on climbing the last of the steps.
“Feeding time at last, Mr. Rumpel...”
Her voice deserts her when she sees him. He’s at least ten feet off the ground, walking on absolutely nothing. His hands stretch out into more nothing. His feet step forward and back, balancing perfectly on yet more nothing. As she watches, he starts to tremble, then wobble. A growl emerges from him as he pitches sideways and down, picking up speed until he slams into the wall and drops on his leather-clad backside.
“Damn it all!” he snarls, then finally seems to notice Belle’s presence. He points a clawed finger at her, “You! You knocked me off!”
Belle blinks, “I was standing here. I was hardly breathing.”
“You didn’t have to,” he snaps, “A fly beating its wings would’ve been enough.”
This isn’t an argument Belle feels remotely able to have. “I brought you lunch. Eat it. Please.”
Rumpelstiltskin lets out a hum, “Later. The magic likes you hungry, you know. Empty. Easier to climb inside, make itself comfortable.”
A shiver passes through Belle, “I think it might have overstayed its welcome. You must eat.”
“Have you ever known any magic, dearie?” he asks, “That is, up close and personal? Held it in your own hands, bent it to your will? There’s nothing like it, I assure you.” His eyes are very bright.
Professional, be a professional, Belle inwardly commands as heat inexplicably rises to her cheeks. She busies herself setting her tray on the tiny bit of unoccupied space on top of a wooden desk. “Never had a need for it, myself. Now come here, before this gets cold.”
“How about you come here?” he retorts, climbing to his feet.
Belle feels another shiver, and finds she’s already taken a half-step closer. Professional. “I don’t- think so. I think you need to eat. As soon as possible.”
Rumpelstiltskin grins, “I’ll make you a deal, my little taskmaster. Indulge me for but a moment and you can shovel whatever you like down my gullet.” He holds a hand out to her.
Belle heaves a sigh, realizing there’ll be no managing him like this. But if she plays along, he most likely will as well, “All right, I’ll take that deal.” She also takes his hand.
A giggle bubbles out of Rumpelstiltskin and he tugs her just a bit too close. “I knew you couldn’t resist. Curious little thing like you.”
“What exactly am I indulging?” The words that meet her ears are very different than the ones that were in her head. Thankfully, Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t appear to notice.
“A theory.” He spins on his heel, turning his back to Belle. “Put your hands on my shoulders, if you’d be so kind. And shut your eyes.”
That seems simple enough, so she does as instructed. Rumpelstiltskin is warm beneath her hands, and buzzing.
“Breathe with me, dearie.” He sucks in a gulp of air that makes his shoulders rise, lets it out and they fall. Belle matches him, and, far too quickly, a strange weight enters her head and flows down her arms. Burning air wafts against her skin.
“Move when I move,” Rumpelstiltskin murmurs, “Step when I step.”
When his right foot inches forward, Belle feels it in his shoulder, and her own follows. A few steps further, and a couple backwards, slow and easy.
“Yes, yes,” Rumpelstiltskin says, “That’s it. Belle, you’re a natural. Born on the wires, no doubt.”
“What wires?” Her voice comes from deep inside, like in a dream, “We’re walking on the floor...”
“Are we indeed? Take a look. But slow, only look at my back. Leave the rest on the edges.”
Her eyes drift open, fix on the familiar scales of Rumpelstiltskin’s dragon hide. However, beyond that, in the corners of her vision, she sees the tops of the tall windows, the highest shelves of dusty books. The briefest glimpse down shows her feet standing on bare air.
She tenses instantly, breath freezing in her lungs. “Oh gods!”
They tremble, way up there. Rumpelstiltskin hisses through his teeth, “No, no- breathe, Belle, keep breathing. You’ll have us tumbling arse over tea kettle.” His hands grasp hers, pull them to meet on his chest. It brings Belle closer, and she looks over his shoulder.
There’s the wire. A golden gleaming filament stretching out far beyond the walls of the tower, into some inconceivable purple-clouded infinity that shines like heaven itself.
“You see,” Rumpelstiltskin whispers, “The wires of the world. They hold it together. You can walk them, if you’re strong enough. If you’re steady enough.”
“It’s beautiful...”
“Time to come down, dearie.”
“No...”
“Yes.” The sublime mirage before her fades, and she and Rumpelstiltskin float to the floor like two wisps of straw.
Belle feels weak and strange. She presses her cheek to Rumpelstiltskin’s back before she can think better of it. He squeezes her hands in his. When he lets go, she stumbles away. What was she thinking before? A word. Professional. Yes. “Did... did I confirm your theory?”
Rumpelstiltskin goes still at the food tray. He half-turns to her. “Yes, it’s as I thought.”
“Thought what?”
“You balance me.” Rumpelstiltskin picks up the bowl of lukewarm soup and pours its contents down his throat.
Belle can't decide if she should be flattered or afraid.
Word Count: 1,292
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: I was watching Man on Wire when they showed Philippe Petit walking a wire with his girlfriend. Then this happened.
Summary: Belle participates in an experiment. Within "Skin Deep."
As a rule Belle steers clear of the tower that holds Rumpelstiltskin’s private chambers. She’s dispelled a great deal of the myths that surround him, but she doesn’t doubt there are truths there she’d rather be ignorant of. That said... it’s been over two days since he last emerged, and Belle’s getting worried. He needs to eat. Or does he...? She shakes her head- of course he does, he’s flesh and blood. Magic can’t truly fill an empty stomach, at best it can trick one, and she won’t allow him to do that to himself. Surely part of a caretaker’s job is to keep her employer from starving to death. Somewhere near the top of her tasks, at least.
So onwards she marches, armed with her tray of lunch. The stone turns rough and cold around her, the halls dark with only arrow slits for windows. She pauses at the slippery-looking spiral staircase. She can’t count on Rumpelstiltskin to catch her at every attack of clumsiness. She takes a breath and mounts it, with care.
Strange, harsh smells brush past her nose as she ascends. The air burns slightly on her skin. It’s dense with magic. Belle wonders half seriously if she’ll escape this adventure the same shape she is now.
She reaches the point of no return- the door at the top of the staircase. She puts an ear to it, and hears nothing. She tries to imagine the worst response she could get. Would he transform her into a toad for the rest of the afternoon? He would change her back. The estate still needs cleaning after all, and they have a deal. Or, instead, perhaps he would feel invaded. Hurt by her uninvited presence. That, more than the threat of angry magic hurled at her, almost sends Belle down the steps. She sighs, You silly girl. Can’t you be a professional for one solid second?
She gives the door two authoritative wraps. And gets no response. She tries again. Still nothing. “Fine,” she mutters, “I consider this an unspoken invitation.” She shifts the tray to her hip and pushes against the door. With only a little effort, it swings inward, revealing more steps curving around to an open space above. Belle squints as she peers up into purple clouds sparkling with webs of gold that obscure the ceiling. They’re strangely difficult to look at, and they fade away the more she tries. She focuses on climbing the last of the steps.
“Feeding time at last, Mr. Rumpel...”
Her voice deserts her when she sees him. He’s at least ten feet off the ground, walking on absolutely nothing. His hands stretch out into more nothing. His feet step forward and back, balancing perfectly on yet more nothing. As she watches, he starts to tremble, then wobble. A growl emerges from him as he pitches sideways and down, picking up speed until he slams into the wall and drops on his leather-clad backside.
“Damn it all!” he snarls, then finally seems to notice Belle’s presence. He points a clawed finger at her, “You! You knocked me off!”
Belle blinks, “I was standing here. I was hardly breathing.”
“You didn’t have to,” he snaps, “A fly beating its wings would’ve been enough.”
This isn’t an argument Belle feels remotely able to have. “I brought you lunch. Eat it. Please.”
Rumpelstiltskin lets out a hum, “Later. The magic likes you hungry, you know. Empty. Easier to climb inside, make itself comfortable.”
A shiver passes through Belle, “I think it might have overstayed its welcome. You must eat.”
“Have you ever known any magic, dearie?” he asks, “That is, up close and personal? Held it in your own hands, bent it to your will? There’s nothing like it, I assure you.” His eyes are very bright.
Professional, be a professional, Belle inwardly commands as heat inexplicably rises to her cheeks. She busies herself setting her tray on the tiny bit of unoccupied space on top of a wooden desk. “Never had a need for it, myself. Now come here, before this gets cold.”
“How about you come here?” he retorts, climbing to his feet.
Belle feels another shiver, and finds she’s already taken a half-step closer. Professional. “I don’t- think so. I think you need to eat. As soon as possible.”
Rumpelstiltskin grins, “I’ll make you a deal, my little taskmaster. Indulge me for but a moment and you can shovel whatever you like down my gullet.” He holds a hand out to her.
Belle heaves a sigh, realizing there’ll be no managing him like this. But if she plays along, he most likely will as well, “All right, I’ll take that deal.” She also takes his hand.
A giggle bubbles out of Rumpelstiltskin and he tugs her just a bit too close. “I knew you couldn’t resist. Curious little thing like you.”
“What exactly am I indulging?” The words that meet her ears are very different than the ones that were in her head. Thankfully, Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t appear to notice.
“A theory.” He spins on his heel, turning his back to Belle. “Put your hands on my shoulders, if you’d be so kind. And shut your eyes.”
That seems simple enough, so she does as instructed. Rumpelstiltskin is warm beneath her hands, and buzzing.
“Breathe with me, dearie.” He sucks in a gulp of air that makes his shoulders rise, lets it out and they fall. Belle matches him, and, far too quickly, a strange weight enters her head and flows down her arms. Burning air wafts against her skin.
“Move when I move,” Rumpelstiltskin murmurs, “Step when I step.”
When his right foot inches forward, Belle feels it in his shoulder, and her own follows. A few steps further, and a couple backwards, slow and easy.
“Yes, yes,” Rumpelstiltskin says, “That’s it. Belle, you’re a natural. Born on the wires, no doubt.”
“What wires?” Her voice comes from deep inside, like in a dream, “We’re walking on the floor...”
“Are we indeed? Take a look. But slow, only look at my back. Leave the rest on the edges.”
Her eyes drift open, fix on the familiar scales of Rumpelstiltskin’s dragon hide. However, beyond that, in the corners of her vision, she sees the tops of the tall windows, the highest shelves of dusty books. The briefest glimpse down shows her feet standing on bare air.
She tenses instantly, breath freezing in her lungs. “Oh gods!”
They tremble, way up there. Rumpelstiltskin hisses through his teeth, “No, no- breathe, Belle, keep breathing. You’ll have us tumbling arse over tea kettle.” His hands grasp hers, pull them to meet on his chest. It brings Belle closer, and she looks over his shoulder.
There’s the wire. A golden gleaming filament stretching out far beyond the walls of the tower, into some inconceivable purple-clouded infinity that shines like heaven itself.
“You see,” Rumpelstiltskin whispers, “The wires of the world. They hold it together. You can walk them, if you’re strong enough. If you’re steady enough.”
“It’s beautiful...”
“Time to come down, dearie.”
“No...”
“Yes.” The sublime mirage before her fades, and she and Rumpelstiltskin float to the floor like two wisps of straw.
Belle feels weak and strange. She presses her cheek to Rumpelstiltskin’s back before she can think better of it. He squeezes her hands in his. When he lets go, she stumbles away. What was she thinking before? A word. Professional. Yes. “Did... did I confirm your theory?”
Rumpelstiltskin goes still at the food tray. He half-turns to her. “Yes, it’s as I thought.”
“Thought what?”
“You balance me.” Rumpelstiltskin picks up the bowl of lukewarm soup and pours its contents down his throat.
Belle can't decide if she should be flattered or afraid.