Author's Note: This is the first 'soulmate' story I've ever written so I hope I did the trope justice! I've been thinking about this all day and I'm pleased with how it turned out. Please review and let me know what you think!

Rainbow Life

A rainbow life. That's what they called it. When you were somehow lucky enough to live a life so full that you got to see every color. No more gray, no more missing pieces to fill in. It was shockingly rare, and whether or not they'd admit it, everyone yearned to live it. A rainbow life.

As a young boy, Lucien Blake constantly asked his mother to tell him about the colors, and the people she'd known who had given them to her. She helped him understand the colors he could already see. After she was gone, he'd had to figure the rest out for himself.

Purple came from family. It was the color of the flowers Mother kept in her art studio. There were so many shades; whenever someone became a member of the family, a new hue would appear.

Yellow came from friendship. It was bright and cheerful; his mates in school each added a new color to the sun and the daffodils.

Orange came from rivals. So close to friendship that it was often mistaken. It was Patrick Tyneman who first brought Lucien this color. It was so rich, adding such dimension to the leaves in the autumn that he thought perhaps this must be friendship. Sometimes it felt that way with Patrick. But no, Patrick's lovely pale orange was later overshadowed by Derek Alderton's dark rust orange, which was surely unmistakable.

Blue came from mentors. That one had confused Lucien at first. It felt like purple, so dark and luxurious. Before he even realized it, he'd already seen blue everywhere. His mother figured it out before he did. She could see the way young Lucien watched his father work, utterly fascinated. Thomas was his father, certainly, but also his idol and role model as a child. When Lucien decided he wanted to become a doctor, he saw the color of the sky.

Green came from deep friendship. Yellow would fade into it as people became closer and closer. Lucien had many pale yellow-greens over the years, but the plants remained a muddy gray. Matthew Lawson had let him see the grass. Mattie O'Brien had given him the most beautiful shade of blue-green turquoise. Alice Harvey gave him the deep green of evergreen pines.

Pink came from romantic love. From mauve to pale blossom to fuchsia, the women in Lucien's life brought him the passionate colors. Monica was the first, the sweet color of roses. Mei Lin's purple-pink had drawn her to him immediately; they had made a life together that he never thought he'd leave. She'd given him Li, with whom he saw a bright vibrant purple color that quickly became his very favorite.

After the war, Lucien didn't see any new colors for a very long time. The spots of gray that remained became familiar and comforting. He was so afraid to allow anyone into his life for fear that new color would dull what he still held. When he first returned to Australia, he went into a menswear shop in Melbourne on a whim. He found a silk handkerchief in exactly Li's color. It never left his pocket if he could ever help it.

He had received word that his father was dying. The last thing Lucien wanted to do was return to Ballarat; there was nothing for him there. But he wouldn't let his father die alone. He would do what he knew his mother would have wanted. She would have wanted them together at the end.

The housekeeper opened the door for him when he arrived at the old Blake house. And the first thing he saw was her lipstick. It was a new shade of pink. It had to be. She was very beautiful. He was almost a little embarrassed that he had developed this crush on her at first glance. It had been a long time since he'd instantly seen a new color upon meeting a person; he'd been told that could happen, though it must have been rare for someone of his age.

Lucien lived at the house for several months, helping cover his father's patients when he was unable and assisting Mattie, the live-in district nurse, care for the ailing Thomas. And when he passed, Lucien knew he had to stay to tie up the loose ends.

And then the colors came. More and more all the time. Mattie and Danny and Matthew and Charlie and Alice. Electric pink from Joy MacDonald. A new orange from Munro. Jean's boys, Jack and Christopher, each brought slightly new purples, which surprised Lucien more than he would admit. The idea of leaving Ballarat faded away along with the gray.

As he grew closer to Jean, the pink he saw in her lipstick that first moment got brighter and brighter. He started seeing it elsewhere. Lucien was unsure if he'd ever felt this way before. He'd never been so desperately excited to see a color before. He'd never been so desperately excited to be with any other person before.

He didn't fully realize what it was until he was sitting in his mother's old studio one day. Her paintings all looked different to him now. He had so many more colors now than when he was a boy.

And that's when it hit him like a bolt of lightning. A memory tucked deep in his mind from so long ago.

"What's that color supposed to be?"

Genevieve had smiled down at her young son, following to where he pointed to the paint she was using. "Rouge, mon petit. It is the rarest color of all, and it is my very favorite."

"When does it come?" he asked curiously.

She explained, "Pink comes from romantic love, but red, like this one, comes when you meet your soulmate. The one person who you love and who loves you more than anything else. And when you see it, you'll know you've found the person you will spend the rest of your life with. I first saw it when I met your father. It was the color of the tie he was wearing that evening. To see it, so vibrant and beautiful, it took my breath away. One day you will see a beautiful new color from a person who makes your heart expand with love, and you will understand, Lucien."

He hadn't thought about those words in so very long. He had recognized that Monica hadn't given him red, which was part of why he'd left her. He and Mei Lin had been so happy that he hadn't even realized that her color couldn't have been red. And after that, he'd stopped looking for it.

And that was why he hadn't understood. The lipstick wasn't pink. She didn't wear pink lipstick. Jean wore red lipstick.

Lucien practically ran out of the room and found Jean in the sunroom. He felt his whole body buzzing in anticipation.

She looked at him with wide, concerned eyes. "Lucien? What's the matter?"

"I've figured it out."

"Figured what out? A case?" she asked in confusion.

He shook his head. "Your lipstick. It's red."

"That's what I've been told, yes." Everyone wore this color. The shops all sold it, and most women who bothered wearing lipstick at all bought it based on that. Most people just saw it as gray anyway, so it didn't matter much.

"Red lipstick," he breathed reverently. Lucien leaned in, stopping inches from her face, waiting for her to back away or push him off. But she didn't. She closed her eyes and parted her lips ever so slightly. He closed the distance between them, kissing her deeply. Lucien held her tight against him as her hands found their way to his face. Their mouths moved against each other with a yearning and a sense of relief at having finally found where they belonged.

Breathlessly, they broke apart. "My goodness," she whispered.

He chuckled, embracing her. "I can't believe it took so long to figure out."

"Figure what out?"

"You're my rainbow."

Jean's eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed by his admission. She nodded, laughing slightly. "And you're mine."