Every Color

Belle raked a hand through her shoulder-length gray hair and sighed. Her knuckles were aching again with something Emma had called "arthritis" that was a well known ailment in her world.

In that world, there had been medicines and other treatments. In this world, however, Belle was left feeling stiff and uncomfortable. Spinning had become nearly impossible, and she no longer had a husband who could tend to her with a wave of his hand.

She closed the book she had been trying to read and looked out from her front porch at rolling hills that were turning slightly more brown than green with the coming chill. She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and gave in to the melancholy that often overcame her whenever she thought of her late husband.

Rumplestiltskin had been gone for nearly fifteen years, yet Belle still felt his absence as sharply as ever. Thinking of his smile, his real smile, sent a jolt of pain through her heart that might as well have been made by the very dagger that carried her husband's name.

He had given up the power of the Dark One to break Regina's curse and send them all back to the Enchanted Forest. The selfless act had left him as just a man with a grown son and a wife half his age. Bae had forgiven his father for everything else, but he had never quite gotten over the fact that Rumplestiltskin hadn't given him a choice about returning. Baelfire felt that, since he had lived the majority of his life in New York, he should have stayed. After all, he hadn't even seen the Enchanted Forest since he was fourteen years old. He made the best of it, though, and ended up reconciling with the Savior and eventually marrying her. Henry's parents were reunited at last. Emma wanted nothing to do with running the kingdom, so she took up a role that was comfortable for her…Sheriff. Snow White and her Charming eventually had more children, and the oldest took over the kingdom.

Rumpletiltskin had been offered a full pardon for his role in ending the curse, much to Belle's relief. She had been so afraid that they would throw her love back into prison for the rest of his life that she had a bag packed and ready to go in case they had to run. But he was just an ordinary man with a vast understanding of magic, so they offered him a role at the palace as an advisor. Snow had made the point that a man who had lived for hundreds of years, even if he had no magic of his own, had knowledge that none of them would ever possess.

He had turned them down.

Rumplestiltskin had swept Belle away to a beautiful spot of land where they could have a modest house with a garden and enough room to raise sheep. He no longer had money or treasure, and he valued his anonymity, so he began spinning once again. The wool did not become gold, but Belle helped him dye it and, together, they created spools of yarn with more colors than any rainbow.

Belle felt as a single teardrop slide down her cheek and plop onto the cover of her book. It had been years since she'd allowed herself to think of the night he'd started teaching her to spin. It had been about ten years after the cursebreak, when Rum had been about the same age that Belle was now. His own joints had begun to ache, so he had decided to pass along the art of spinning to his young wife.

That night, as a fire illuminated and warmed the room, Belle had sat on her husband's lap and let him guide her hands on the wheel. An innocent lesson soon turned into passionate lovemaking, and Belle had fallen pregnant.

There would be no children, however. Belle would never understand why, but her body would simply not carry a child to term. Rumplestiltskin had blamed himself…had said that living as the Dark One for so long must have poisoned his body.

Belle had never believed that.

So they grew older together, and they spun. Other's had children who grew up and had children of their own. Their old friends and comrades began passing away. Rumplestiltskin lost his eyesight and then could no longer stand. People forgot all about the Dark One and simply mourned the old, kind spinner from outside of town who passed away in his sleep one night.

Emma and Henry had come. Emma had offered Belle a place in the palace. After all, they had enough rooms to spare, and the Sheriff had been like a big sister to her since before the cursebreak.

Belle had politely declined.

Snapping out of her reverie, Belle slowly rose from her chair and went back inside. It was growing darker and colder, and her body ached all over. Lately, there had been a numbness in her hands and feet that no warm fire could cure. She placed her book on a table and looked around her little house.

She could feel it…a stillness and peace in the air. She could almost taste Rumplestiltskin's old magic inside their empty home.

She approached their wheel…now caked with dust in a corner…and absently sent it spinning. It creaked horribly, and she smiled.

It took several days for someone from town to come looking for her. The spinner's wife was friendly and had surely been a beauty in her younger days, but she was a bit of an odd one, so people rarely visited.

They found her in bed, and surmised that she had passed away in her sleep. Next to her, sitting on a small table, was a tea cup with a chip in the rim.

They burned her on a pyre that evening. Emma came once again, though alone. She spoke to no one, and left just after the rest of Belle's remains had been laid to rest beside her husband.

That morning, just as dawn was breaking, everyone in town could have sworn that the wind carried the unmistakable creaking of an old spinning wheel.