Author's Note: Just finished watching tonight's very sad episode of Once Upon a Time. It's a new episode so I won't spoil, but I felt compelled to write this very short little Belle musing. Slight spoilers through "Witch Hunt", but not of the new episode. Hope you enjoy.
Dream
She could feel their eyes on her as she walked though the town but she ignored them. She knew what they were thinking. She was peculiar. She was odd. She was deranged. How else could she love a beast? That was all right. That didn't have to understand; it didn't keep her from loving him. As far as she was concerned, they weren't even there. They only mattered to her if they wanted to check out a book or buy some sort of oddity from the shop. They didn't like her for that either. They resented her for keeping it going now that Gold was gone, but she didn't care. He had spent most of his time in that shop, she was going to ensure that it stayed open. She owed him that much.
She was lonely most of the time. Few people came into the library, and fewer came to the pawnshop. The lack of traffic allowed her to keep up both, but it didn't help her fight off the emptiness she felt on a regular basis. She smiled to people as they came and went, and made small talk, occasionally she would have a quick lunch with Ruby at the diner, but eventually she would be left alone again with her thoughts and the pain. The pain was always there. A year had passed as far as they knew, but with their memories gone, she could only remember that day. The day that Rumple had driven the dagger through his own chest and left her forever.
She dreamt about him every night, lying alone in the bed they had once shared. She dreamt about both of them: the one that she had lost and the one that she had never had. Rumple would hold her, kiss her, laugh with her as they watched the little one run around. His eyes were a chocolate brown like his father's. She would smile and laugh. She would shed tears of joy, overwhelmed with happiness. And then she would wake up, and the tears of joy would turn to those of dread and pain. She would scream and yell, and beg him to come back, but he wouldn't, so she would sob until the sun came up. Then she would start again. The library. The shop. The small talk. The stares on the walk home. The sleepless nights. She got used to her new life, and she got used to the pain. It was the only constant companion that she had, and the only reminder her life was still somehow going on. But somehow, despite the grief she felt, deep down in her heart, hidden where she could avoid admitting it to herself, there was still a thriving flame of hope, hope that one day she would see him again; one day, she wouldn't have to wake up from that dream.