Don't worry, I know I'm a terrible person. At least a chapter is up though! I also promise the story will get done. Only a few more chapters to go! Enjoy :)

I don't know how long I was in the comforting darkness until a pained voice broke though the thick fog of the darkness. Please, it whispered. It sounded so broken, yet so lovely and gentle almost like my...

"Belle," I whisper, suddenly awake. Her hair flies up and I finally see her gorgeous brown eyes again. When I wake I see her hand supress a sob. Happy tears spill down her face and when she uncovers her mouth I see the most radiant smile erupt when she sees me.

Tears start to flow down my face as she crushes her lips against mine and warmth and joy finally fill my body after days of cold and darkness. It's almost as if the life has flooded back into me from her touch and her voice. Belle has truley brought me back to life.

When we release I exclaim, "It is you! But," I pause dark images of Belle lying on the floor and the sound of gun shots fill my mind. The pain of losing her comes back and doubt fills my mind, "You were dead."

"Shh," she whispers, "I'm fine, and so are you. I'll explain everything that happened when we get back to the castle, but-"

In my moment of joy I failed to notice an enraged Gaston sneaking up behind us. When I look over her shoulder as she speaks I see the cold glint of Gaston's eyes and the knife he holds. A sick smile rests on his face. "Belle!" I warn.

With my new-found energy that came with Belle's return I push Belle behind my body to protect her and spring into action. Gaston and I become engaged in a deadly battle, and his blue eyes meet mine.

"Do you really believe you can defeat me?" Gaston snarls. His face looks hard and ferocious, but in his eyes I see something I did not see before. Fear.

"I think you do," I bite back. With my built up rage and fury I punch and pound and pummel Gaston. He fights back with flying fists, but I have rage on my side and I barely register the sting. Before long I can tell Gaston knows he is fighting a loosing battle. With one sure blow to his temple Gaston collapses on the floor.

"Please, have mercy," Gaston wheezes out with a pained breath.

"You don't deserve my mercy," I snarl. I kick, punch, claw and scratch. I don't want to stop until the sick bastard is dead and taken his rightful place in hell. Before long I can tell Gaston is on the brink of death. I roughly grab his collar and hoist him up towards me, forcing him to look at me.

"Have fun rotting in hell, you sick bastard." I whisper with a beastly growl. I raise my fist up for the final blow and Gaston raises his hand to shield his face. Through his fingers I see his terrified eyes.

I swing my hand up further, winding up to finish off Gaston when suddenly I hear a small whisper, "Adam."

I turn around to face Belle. I see her beautiful face light up with a pained smile as she mouths the words 'I love you', and then collapses. Everything goes quiet as I go into shock. Then all at once it hits me.

"No, no, no, no, please no, oh God," I frantically plead. I drop Gaston to the floor with a resounding thud and race over to Belle's body.

Her eyes are closed as if she is sleeping, "Belle, please," I choke. My eyes frantically search her body for injury and I find a blossoming red stain pooling at her waist and bloodied knife in the corner. The knife mocks me as I realize my failure, and guilt claws at me to be replaced by fear for Belle's life. My blood runs cold and my face blanches.

With tender hands I pick up her small frame and cradle her in my lap like a small child, her head supported by my arm that is wrapped around her shoulders. I push her up against my body, freeing my other arm to gently brush the hair away from her face, trailing down to cup her cheek.

Without haste I pull both of us up off the floor, trying not to jostle Belle. She moans in pain in my arms and tears roll down her cheek. I rush outside, my footsteps quickened by my panic. I quickly locate Apollinaire standing near the cabin. When we come near I see the horse is frightened, but still stands tall and graceful. I swing onto his back and grab the reins without pause and as soon as we are settled we race off into the distance. Apollinaire seems to sense the urgency and rides faster then I've ever seen him ride. It would've been glorious if not for the pressing situation at hand.

Apollinaire seems to have the route almost memorized, so I allow my steed to steer while I glance at my beautiful Belle. My dying Belle. Even though Apollinaire is riding impossibly smoothly for such a speed, every bump jostles her body and she moans and twists in pain.

Her hair is matted, her dress covered in blood, scratches littering her body and face, and still she continues to be an angel. I finally collapse over her body, tears rolling down my face, and my heart shatters at the thought of the dying angel in my arms.