Everyone's awed and inspired by you,
and it's not very hard to see why...
●●●●●
"Home, sweet home," Morgan smiled at Gaston as she unlocked the door. "It's not much," she warned him. "But it's dry."
As they entered the small apartment, Gaston realized she wasn't kidding. Not only was the space cramped, but certainly she could use a pair of antlers to hang on the sparse walls. Or a portrait of him--
"I don't have the time for interior decorating," Morgan explained after a long, awkward pause. She must have felt his silent judgment as he glanced around the place. "Or the wallet."
That last part had been barely audible as she removed her shoes and walked towards the lone hallway.
"It's cozy," Gaston lied, slowly trailing behind her. Thankfully his blonde savior seemed to have bought it.
"I know you've had a long day." Morgan stopped and flipped on the light to what Gaston assumed was the water closet. "So wait here while I go see what I can scrounge up that might fit you," she instructed.
Gaston watched with curiosity as she popped open the glass door and turned the large silver handle. Before his very eyes, the contraption began spewing water.
"Indoor plumbing?" he questioned with a raised brow. "Why, I've only ever seen such advancements in the King's palace."
"Advancements?" Morgan chuckled as she eyed him strangely. "Where are you from?" she asked.
His spine stiffened as he turned to face her. He wondered if anyone back home had even realized he was missing.
"A small village just outside Paris," he replied. "I doubt you've ever heard of it."
"Really?" She tilted her head with the challenge. "That's odd, because I definitely thought most of France had running water."
Gaston shrugged his big shoulders before removing his coat. "I can assure you, mademoiselle, this will be my first time--" he paused as he looked towards the tiled walls. "What is this thing called, anyways?"
"A shower." Morgan smirked as she began backing out of the bathroom. "It's called a shower."
As Gaston slowly removed his boots and socks, he realized that not only was the 'shower' spraying water, but the steam rolling around the closet suggested it was actually hot.
"Be careful," she smiled as she re-entered with a stack of clothes. "The water tends to turn scalding after about twenty minutes or so. I've complained to management for months, but--"
Morgan gave a slight roll of her eyes before trailing off. Clearly a sore subject. But as she held up the grey sweatpants and oversized tee-shirt, she gave him a bright, satisfied smile.
"I think these will do," she nodded as she set them on the counter. "Towels are above the toilet, and there's shampoo and body wash in the shower," she told him before turning to go.
He had no idea what the last two items were, but as he stepped into the shower, he was relieved to see something that resembled good, old-fashioned soap. As the water pounded into the tense muscles of his back, Gaston gazed over at his mirror image in the glass door.
"Well ol' chap. It seems we've dodged a bullet again." The reflection nodded and paused to check itself out before going on. "It's going to take some time to get used to this world," he said. "But with that gorgeous angel as our guide, I think we'll adjust just fine."
Gaston studied his handsome face one more time, before shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower. No happily ever after? He could live with that. In fact, he was starting to wonder if being sent here had been a punishment at all.
*
**
***
With an exhausted sigh, Morgan swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It had been a long couple of days, but at least she only had one, fifteen hour shift left. Then she would be off for a whole, glorious three days.
Removing the gun she had slept with from under her pillow, Morgan glanced at the alarm clock before placing it back in the top drawer of her night stand. It was already well into the afternoon, but judging by the thunderous snores reverberating down the hallway, something told Morgan that her house guest was still fast asleep.
Slowly, Morgan stood and unlocked the bedroom door before peeking around the corner. She gave a slight chuckle as she remembered the look on Gaston's face when she had pulled the mattress out from under the cushions. The simplest things seemed to amaze him.
As she tip-toed over to the kitchen, Morgan began pulling things out from the refrigerator that she thought Gaston might enjoy for breakfast. Everything from last night was such a blur, and she really hoped to learn a little more about the handsome stranger before heading off to work. What better way to peer into a man's soul than through his stomach.
With a loud yawn, the large man on her couch noisly stirred from his slumber. Morgan figured it was safe to assume that the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs had woken him, but the look on his face made her feel like he was hungry for something more.
"That smells amazing."
The deep gravel in his voice nearly sent shivers down her spine as Gaston took a seat at the tall counter in front of her. A small smile swept across her face at how perfect he looked. With his slicked-back raven locks and five o'clock shadow, Morgan was sure Gaston could give any man a run for his money.
"I hope you slept well," she commented as she took a few plates down from the cupboard.
"I did." He gave her a small, simple nod of gratitude.
As she placed the plate full of food down in front of him, Gaston gave her one panty-melting smile before digging in.
Sweet Jehoshaphat, Morgan thought. If he stayed here for longer than three days, she was going to have to make a quick trip to the nearest Victoria's Secret.
"I have to leave in about an hour," Morgan began as she sat down next to Gaston with her own plate of food. "You're more than welcome to stay here, but you should know--"
The blonde paused for a moment before looking up at her handsome house guest. She had always considered herself a pretty good judge of character, but what if this time she'd made a grave mistake?
"--I have quite a few friends in the NYPD," she warned. "If you even think about stealing my stuff--"
With a slight chuckle, Gaston placed his hand over top of hers. "I promised to be a proper gentleman," he reminded her. "And I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about my dear."
Morgan sighed in relief before returning to her breakfast.
"So what did you used to do?" She asked before shoving a forkful into her mouth.
"You mean back in France?"
As she nodded her head, Morgan noticed how the large man stiffened once again at the mention of his former life.
With a visible gulp, Gaston answered her. "I used to be a Captain in the King's army," he said.
"A Captain? Wow." Morgan's eyes widened with adoration as she gazed back up at him.
"Trust me, it's not as glamorous as it sounds," he informed her. "We lost a lot of good men to the Portuguese. They proved a formidable foe."
Morgan's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. The French weren't at war with the Portuguese, we're they?
"So what brought you here, to New York?"
With a heavy sigh, Gaston slumped forward in his chair. "As you can imagine, being the Captain of an army, I became accustomed to getting what I wanted, immediate gratification if you will. And there was a beautiful woman whom I thought I was in love with. But alas, she wanted more than the provincial life I could give her. She fell in love with someone else, a Prince, actually-- and when I realized I couldn't have her, I suddenly found myself as the villian of the story."
"The other woman," Morgan paused to give her thoughts a second to come together. "Was her name, Belle?"
"How do you-- how do you know?" Gaston nervously glanced about the apartment as though he expected someone to jump out.
"Just a hunch," she smiled.
Grabbing up their empty plates, Morgan shuffled over to the kitchen sink. It was obvious now, that this man was struggling from some serious BPD or perhaps even PTSD. She would let him stay here for the evening, but tomorrow she would probably take him over to St. Luke's Halfway House or some other shelter. There was no way she could offer him the kind of help he needed.
"Morgan."
She jumped at the sudden closeness, an exciting tingle crawling up her skin. As she peered up at him through hooded eyes, she envisioned him taking her into those big arms of his and kissing her.
"Do you have any more of those delicious eggs?"
"Eggs?" The blonde practically choked on air.
"Why yes," Gaston nodded. "I usually start out every morning with at least five dozen."
*
**
***
"So did he awe and inspire you last night?"
With a roll of her eyes, Morgan decided to stare ahead of her instead of giving him any fuel for his fire. She was unsure where all this was coming from, but the 'jealous look' definitely wasn't Tom's color.
Never one to be easily discouraged though, Tom continued. "Well, it's not very hard to see why--"
Suddenly, he burst out into his best bassy vibrato.
"Nooooo one's thick as Gaston, or moves hips like Gaston. No one makes girls lust after his dic--"
"Oh my god, you're such a twat waffle." Morgan glared at him before punching him in the arm. "That's not even funny."
Tom laughed. "It's kind of funny."
Morgan was about to ask how long it took him to come up with that, when a transmission suddenly blarred over the radio.
-All units respond. Code one emergency at Little Flower on 55 Exchange. Possible asthma attack. Please be advised patient is unconscious with labored breathing.
As Morgan reached for the hand held, Tom immediately flipped on the lights. He may have been a complete ass hole sometimes, but when it came to emergencies involving kids, he didn't mess around.
Pulling up to the little, run-down orphanage, Morgan's heart broke at the sight of so many children gathered outside. If she could, she would adopt every single one of them. Unfortunately, her tiny apartment was not very accommodating, not to mention, it violated about half a dozen fire codes.
Silently she trailed up the stairs behind Tom and the Director, who led them towards a room where a little boy laid on the ground. At the realization of his purple fingers and lips, the two immediately began working at a frenzied pace. As Morgan set everything up, Tom quickly placed the mask over his little face. It was touch and go for a while, but with a sigh of relief, Morgan sat back on her haunches. The vaporized steroids had normalized the child's breathing.
Moments later, Tom and Morgan loaded the boy onto a gurney. As they began rolling him down the hallway, a little girl with tears streaming down her cheeks tugged on Morgan's pants.
"Is he going to be ok?" she asked.
Falling to her knees, Morgan held the girl at arms length. "Of course!" She exclaimed. "We're going to take him to a special place where he can get better," Morgan explained.
"So you help people, right?" The girl asked.
With a smile, Morgan nodded. "It's my job."
"Then maybe you can help them--"
Following the child's pointed finger, Morgan glanced towards the old, boxy television set sitting on the floor. The cartoon looked familiar, but as she watched the odd behavior of the beloved characters, Morgan realized something was definitely wrong.
--Gaston? Gaston!
Suddenly, Morgan fell back with a frightened gasp as a short, chubby man began tapping on the screen. The children had been watching the classic Disney cartoon version of Beauty and the Beast, but instead of singing, the entire village seemed to be on the search for something.
As the weird little man ran back into the tavern, he could be heard shouting
--Has anyone seen, Gaston?