Chapter Text
When Belle missed her period, she panicked. She couldn’t tell him, wouldn’t. What if it was just a fluke? What if he screamed at her in his own panic and said something they’d both regret? No, she had to be sure. She had to figure it out on her own.
He kept asking her what was wrong, kept pushing in his fatherly way, and she rebuffed him again and again. She managed to convince him, after the first week, that everything was fine. She’d even been able to convince him to resume their activities in the bedroom.
But then another month had passed without her period, and she knew that a test was inevitable. She had stashed one in her desk some time ago, and taking it became an unavoidable necessity. The minutes spent waiting in the bathroom (while her Papa was on a business call) were agonizing, staring at that stupid stick.
It was positive.
Of course.
She could be up to 12 weeks pregnant already. She didn’t know… she didn’t…
What the fuck was she going to do?
She couldn’t go to a doctor in town – abortion or OBGYN – without her father finding out about it. She couldn’t get any more info, and she couldn’t do anything about it even if she wanted to.
She’d have to talk to him.
Was it a baby or a fetus? She did research, and legally it was a fetus, terminate-able for another 12 weeks, or more if she wasn’t actually that far along. But the pro-lifers (and a small part of Belle herself) felt that life demanded a certain respect. She spent hours reading both sides of the debate online but couldn’t come to any conclusion. Morally she believed that every woman should make her own choice… but that didn’t help her at all. Nobody was going to make the choice for her, but that didn’t help her do any real deciding.
She wanted to keep it.
She’d always thought that she’d make the smart decision, get it taken care of, but now that she was pregnant…. She didn’t want to. This pregnancy felt right. She wanted this baby.
She was 18, but somehow she’d always felt older. She was more developed than a lot of the girls at school, and she didn’t like boys, and she didn’t ever really feel like she belonged. If she was a few years older, would she even consider getting rid of it? If this had happened three years later, and she and her father had been together for over three years, would she be having the same issues?
No, she would probably keep it. They’d tell a lie about the father, bribe some schmuck to take credit, and she and her Papa could raise their child.
Her choices were very clear. Her Papa’s were not.
He would never want a child; he’d been very clear. Belle, perhaps influenced by pregnancy hormones, was willing to look beyond the genetics of their child. He would never. He would see it not as a gift, but as an abomination.
And she had to tell him.
What the fuck was she going to do?
The next day she walked home from school and found the house empty. Having not slept much the night before, Belle decided to make herself a pot of tea while she waited. She’d just finished her first mug when the car pulled into the drive, and her heart nearly thundered out of her chest. Seeking a barrier between them, Belle stationed herself on the stairs that led into the main hall. Her fingers gripped the banister as she shifted her weight back and forth.
He opened the door and startled to see her there. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing…. Everything. Depends on your perspective.”
“From your perspective?”
“Nothing.”
“And from mine?” he asked, beginning to walk toward her.
“No! Don’t come closer, please. I don’t want… I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Belle, I could never.”
“You will! I know it!” She started to cry, hoping that her reddened, blubbering cheeks looked more pathetic than childish.
“What is this about, Belle?” he asked, worry building in his gut and making his voice deeper. He leaned against his cane. It took Belle a moment to gather strength enough to say the words that had been caught in her mouth for months now.
“I’m pregnant.”
It was scarcely a whisper, but he heard well enough. The color drained from his face, he blinked rapidly, and stumbled as he reached for a side table. “W-what?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Since when?”
“Since… I don’t know.”
“How long have you known?” he growled.
She bit her lip, unanswering.
“How long?!”
“About two months. I took a home test a few days ago and it was positive. I… I wanted to be sure.”
“You… you knew? For two months? And you WAITED to tell me?!” He was yelling now, snarling, only upright because he was leaning against a wall.
“I didn’t want you to scream at me!” Her hands balled into fists, she felt her own anger rising. “I don’t care what you say! This is my choice!”
“Your choice? YOUR choice?! You mean to tell me I had nothing to do with it?”
“Don’t even, don’t you dare. Of course you’re the father.”
“Then it’s OUR choice, isn’t it?”
Belle was choking on her tears. “No. No, I won’t let you take this baby away from me.”
Gold stared at her as though she’d grown three heads. “It’s not a baby, Belle. It’s a cluster of cells.” He sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. “We can’t… you can’t…”
“No! NO!”
“It’s incest, Belle! What we’re doing, it’s wrong. And we knew that, and we did it anyway, and this is a consequence of our actions. We cannot have a child. It’s wrong!”
“How can it be wrong when I love you so much? Don’t you love me too? Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“… Our child would also be my grandchild. Or didn’t you think of that?”
No, she hadn’t thought of that. The hormonal instinct to protect her child had blinded her to his perspective.
“We’ll drive into Boston and get it taken care of under an assumed name. As soon as possible. Saturday.”
Belle felt a sick fear and anger rise up in her gut; the jaws of a wolf snapped around her heart and hardened her resolve.
“No.”
“Belle-”
“No!”
“I’m not asking.”
“And I’m not going. I don’t care if you don’t like it. I don’t care if you kick me out of this house and we live on the streets, I am keeping this baby.”
“Let’s say you do live on the streets. People will want to know who the father is. What will you tell them? When it gets cold, how will you keep the baby warm? How will you pay the hospital bills? Where will you find baby formula and blankets and diapers and the million things a baby needs? What are you going to do for money? Without a diploma you’ll have a hard time finding a job. Are you going to turn tricks on street corners while your baby watches from a cardboard box?!”
“STOP IT! Stop saying those things!”
“Think about this, Belle! Really think about it. Is that the choice you want to make?”
“Are you asking me to choose between you and the baby?” Belle asked, wrapping her arms around her middle. She was still on the stairs and he was still below.
“I suppose so.”
“Then I choose her. I may not have all the answers, but I know that this feels right. I choose her.” Shaking, Belle turned and walked up the stairs. She didn’t even slam her bedroom door when she closed it, already beyond the anger that had swirled in her veins. Now there was only certainty. She would figure it out.
She packed her suitcase. Clothes and sneakers and keepsakes, books and things she could pawn if she had to, like jewelry. There had to be pawnbrokers in other towns who would give her a fair price for bits of gold and sentiment.
She didn’t hear him open the door.
“Have you been to the doctor yet?”
“No. They might’ve called you.”
“Then how do you know it’s a girl?”
She half-turned towards him, hair falling into her eyes. “I don’t, I guess. It’s just a feeling.”
He sighed and stepped towards her, gently brushing the hair back behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw. She didn’t look at him.
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t get rid of it.”
“Don’t leave me, Belle. I could never forgive myself if I let you go into the world alone.”
“You’re the one pushing me away.”
“Why can’t you see what we have to do?”
Belle turned to look at him. “Don’t treat me like a child. I’m not a child.”
“You are! You’re my daughter!”
“Have I ever behaved like a child? Think about the last year. Think hard. I may be 18, but I know what I want. I’m self-assured, careful, and smarter than half the people in this town. If this had happened a few years down the road, if I were in my twenties, would you still want me to get rid of it?”
“Yes. It would still be incest.”
“And I’d still say no. I’d still love you, and I’d still love her, and I’d still choose her.”
Belle lifted her suitcase and set it on the floor, rubbing her thumb across the handle. She looked up at him and studied his features. The harsh lines of his nose, the wrinkles around his eyes, the curve of his lips.
“Goodbye, Papa. I love you.”
“Don’t go, Belle, please.” He cupped her jaw. Sorrow was etched across his face.
She kissed him softly and for the last time. She could taste his tears.
“Goodbye.” Suitcase in hand, she pushed past him. She didn’t look back. He didn’t follow.