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His hands were gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He didn't see it thought as he eyes were closed while he took slow deep breaths. A light touch to his thigh had him opening his eyes and seeing her gentle smile. He didn't return it, but found his eyes lingering on it.

How long has it been since he truly saw it? How long since he woke up in the hospital, throat feeling raw and a weight on his left side. A weight that, when he opened his eyes, turned out to be Belle, laying in the bed with him because she said after they took the monitors away, she couldn't hear his heartbeat.

He could only blink at her then, as exhaustion took him as he drifted back to sleep. He wondered if she was real and knew that she wouldn't be there when he woke up next.

But she was.

She was there. She was smiling. And holding his hand. And petting his hair. And saying how glad she was that he was awake.

He could only blink at her. Wondering why she was there, but so thankful for the fact that she was.

He knew that night couldn't have meant as much to her as it did to him. That night spent in conversation, in her arms, in her bed, was so special to him. One flickering night of light in tumultuous dark ocean of his life. He held onto that night as he finalized his business. The feel of her against him, around him. The look on her face as the pleasure over took her.

But what he brought to him mind the most, even as he swallowed the pills he had gotten from the Pharmacy, was her smile the morning after. As he was leaving, kissing her in his thanks. Thanks for taking pity on him and giving him that one moment of kindness.

The same smile he saw everyday she sat next to his hospital bed. Sat there and chatted, filling him in on the town gossip, telling him about where she wanted to travel or about the new books that just came into the library. Everyday she sat there and talked.

And when he was released from the hospital, with a stern suggestion to see Dr. Hopper, she still visited him. She visited him in his shop, she cajoled him to Granny's, picnics at the park and, what surprised him the most, movie nights at her apartment or his house.

It was one movie night at his house, with her pressed against his side, her fingers absentmindedly dancing on his knee, she stopped the DVD with a sigh. He looked at her, confused. She shook her head with a half smile before reaching up and pulling his head into a kiss.

She kissed him again when he didn't respond. And again until he did. His lips moved against hers for a few kisses, before he pushed her away slightly, eyes searching hers until she bit her lip and frowned. It was then that he brought his hand up to slowly slip each button on her shirt out of its hole, pushing the shirt off her shoulders when he was done.

She did the same for him, but didn't stop there. She unbuttoned his slacks and slipping off the couch to divest him of them and his boxers. When she stood her hands briefly went to her hips where her thumbs hooked into the hem of her skirt to push it and her knickers to join his on the floor.

He swallowed harshly as he looked at the beautiful woman in front of him as she straddled him. Her hands cradled his face as she kissed him some more, knees wiggling closer until he could feel her heat pressing against him. Fingertips trailed down his jaw, neck, shoulder and arms until their interlaced their fingers as she lifted up slightly as started rocking her hips before finally sinking down onto him.

They both sighed, forehead to forehead, as she settled on him, deep as possible. Their eyes locked so tightly on each other, he wasn't even sure when she started to move. Their gaze never broke even as she rocked and clenched to ensure their release was as close together as possible.

Later that night, long after she had fallen asleep, he slipped out of bed and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. A flick of his wrist opened the cabinet, and with the crackling of plastic, he popped the rest of the pills he had bought that night off of their packaging. Their weight in his hand mocked him but what he felt as he watched them circle each other around the bowl and down the drain was weightless. He closed his eyes as the water refilled the tank, breathing deeply.

In, out. In, out. In out.

It wasn't quite a smile on his lips as he slid back into bed and curled himself around her. She murmured sleepily as he nuzzled her nape and gently lifted her leg over his hip. She was awake by the time he moved to join them as one again, the fingers of all four hands entwining into a ball pressed between her breast as he told her.

Told her about the huge, roiling, black ball that lived in his chest. About living with it nearly as long as she had been alive. The one that whispered to him morning, noon and night. Whispered dark things that he only ever was able to ignore by snapping and snarling and being everything it said he was. Until he silenced it the day he bought the pills.

He timed the taking of them to a specific day. A day that no one in this tiny little town cared about, but to him, it was the only day that mattered. The day, so many years ago now, that he was told his four-year-old little boy was never coming home again.

He told her how, since he woke up in the hospital, knowing that he failed at another thing, it was back. Telling him that he only had to bide his time, he'd be out of the hospital soon and he still had over half of the pills left. But she made him not what to do it. That everyday she came to see him in the hospital, the ball got smaller. That he'd rather sit her and listen to her talk, watch her smile and how it lit up his room. And how, somehow, it tugged and pulled and bewitched his own mouth to follow suit. Not just a quirk at the corner, but full smile that he could feel reach his eyes.

She made life worth living for him and he thanked her for that.

He whispered it in her ear as he started to rock them. Over and over until they shuddered in climax.

"Thank you, Belle," he whispered one more time as he cuddled her close as they fell asleep.

It was the call that woke them up the next morning that led them to where they were now. He took her hand an pressed a kiss to it before he exited the car. The walk was one he knew by heart and he soon found himself easing his way to kneel in front of the stone. With a slightly shaking hand he wiped off the clutter, making his son's name visible once more. He said nothing as he dug a small hole at the base of the headstone. Once he thought it was deep enough, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape. He put it in the hole and covered it up.

He had a copy of it at home, still in disbelief as when Sheriff Graham called him down to the station. His eyes teared up again at the memory of listening to the 911 call that Sheriff Graham said had come from his house and the voice of the toddler he hadn't heard in twenty-four years saying: "Please save my Daddy."