"And I won't die alone and be left there. Well I guess I'll just go home, Oh God knows where. Because death is just so full and man so small. Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before." — After the Storm by Mumford and Sons

It was wrong and Rush knew it.

There had always been a bit of darkness that had lurked in the recesses of his body but being married and in love with Gloria had managed to push all of that back where it had laid dormant for nearly 20 years now. Ever since Gloria had relapsed, however, he could feel the familiar tug drawing him near and letting the darkness out.

Standing now in the hallway of the home he had shared with his wife, kissing Belle French, the woman whom delivered flowers to the patients of the cancer ward, he knew he was a bastard that was going straight to hell.

He didn't know why they were kissing, it had just happened.

He had met Belle French just three months prior when Gloria had gone in for one of her treatments. She owned her own flower shop somewhere just outside of San Francisco, after inheriting it from her father whom had passed away just a few years back of liver cancer. To honor the memory of her beloved father she spent her Sundays delivering flowers to all the patients admitted in the UC-Berkley Medical Center, including his Gloria.

Rush hadn't given her much thought at first. She was a pretty girl, sure, but with Gloria being so sick, trying to create new lesson plans for his Advanced Quantum Physics class and mulling over a cryptic new job offer from something called the Stargate Program, he couldn't focus on much else.

Sometimes she would chat with Gloria who really seemed to like her and would often remark on how kind and sweet Belle was, but she always said hello to them both and found kind words for him as well.

It wasn't until he had been leaving for class one day and had run into Belle in the hallway of the hospital that he truly took notice of her. But more importantly he took notice of the redness around her eyes and how she quickly wiped at them as she tried to casually say hello. He had replied and asked if she were alright to which she shrugged and only said, "Delivering flowers to sick children is the hardest."

Now here he was, his tongue exploring the roof of her mouth in an elaborate dance, his hands clutched at her hips tightly while her own arms were thrown over his shoulders drawing him nearer. With his eyes closed he could almost pretend that it wasn't Belle that he was kissing at all, but rather Gloria. They both were of a similar height and build. But she didn't smell right. Belle smelled of the springtime air and budding flower blossoms. Gloria had always been more exotic and high class, but not in a pretentious way.

Gloria was probably the kindest person he had ever known and things like class and social standing had never meant much to her. She couldn't help the class that she was born in anymore than she could help falling in love with a poor boy from Scotland, going to University on a scholarship and supporting himself with two and sometimes three jobs at a time.

He never could understand why she had chose to love him when she could have had her pick of any man that she wanted. He had nothing to offer her when they were married except for his own love in return. And here he was dishonoring that love, breaking that trust. God help him he couldn't stop.

Everything in his life was so fucking sad anymore. He had to sit and watch as the life was slowly drained from his wife's body. He had to watch her as she was dying, knowing that for all of his knowledge and all of his skills, that none of it mattered and none of it could save her. The most important problem that he would have to face in his life was also a problem that was entirely unsolvable. There was nothing that he could do to save her. So it came as a relief to him when Gloria asked him if he would run home and grab something for her. It meant that he could detach himself from the situation and be able to fucking breathe a little.

Gloria's grandmother had hand knitted her a beautiful afghan when she was a little girl and Gloria always turned to it for comfort. The first time she had dealt with her cancer and beat it she had sworn that it was because of the afghan. It was her security blanket and far be it for Rush to say otherwise.

The purple and blue afghan lay now discarded on the small end table they kept in the entryway. He had laid it down the moment that his lips had brushed against Belle's as if he would be burned by it for his infidelity.

In these three months he and Belle had become good friends due to her friendship with Gloria. It was not uncommon for Belle to stay and chat with them for several hours at a time depending on how well Gloria was feeling that day. So, it hadn't occurred to Rush that there was anything strange about his wife suggesting that Belle accompany him to their home so that she could get a little rest but implying she did not wish for him to be alone.

Rush wasn't sure why he had kissed Belle. She had never made any indication that she was interested in him as more than a friend but something compelled him to kiss her with all the pain and frustration that he had been building up for years.

He moved forward until he felt Belle's back bump against the wall and their bodies pushed closer together. God she was so warm and so soft against him. Willing and caring, as her arms ran up and down his back.

Rush wasn't sure how much further he would have pushed it but luckily his cell phone rang shrilly in the air and he pulled away from Belle's lips breathing heavily. She seemed to be just as affected taking deep breathes and smoothing out her pale yellow dress when he backed away to answer it.

"Nicholas Rush?"

"Yeah?" he said trying to get his breathing under control and eyeing Belle.

"This is Dr. Steadman from UC-Berkley. We need you to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Your wife has taken a turn for the worst, we aren't sure how much longer she will last…"

The phone dropped from his hands and crashed onto the floor, the battery pack breaking away and scattering. He needn't say anything to Belle as she wordlessly knew what was said and followed him as he ran out the door, grabbing the worn afghan from the table as she did.