A gentle breeze brought the sweetness of gingerbread. The dreamless sleep retreated slowly. Contentment, almost alien to Tim, filled his heart. Blood in his mouth marred the peace, though made it cleaner. Under the thin sheet, he was warm, but every move made each injury sing. Above, an odd little amulet hung, which held bad dreams at bay. It twisted ever so slightly.

Since Marie had left, he'd dreamed of their night together. It had shamed him, after he'd met his late wife. Both of them had known no other. All first time lovers should put all their heart into the loved. Now, in Marie's bed, he knew no dream could ever be as sweet as her. It was as if the first time was only yesterday.

Indeed, it had been a long time for him. After the last few days and the madness of last night, both needed respite in the other. The beating he'd received from Barnett had made Marie gentle, careful of every touch or caress. Both were satisfied, refuge in the arms of the other like coming home.

Afterwards, when passions cooled and hearts slowed, Marie had fallen asleep first. Her head had rested on his chest. Tim had played with her hair, as gentle breaths escaped. Both needed the other, yet something had felt different. Broken hearts were hard to heal, though with her, it felt like the pieces had mended together. At some point, she had shifted away.

A long sigh was followed by a frown. Her weight was gone. Softness of Marie's body was gone. Though he denied it, a cruel voice whispered that she had fled this place. He froze. Even the gingerbread sweetness was only a ghost, and like her love, it haunted the bed. The other side of the bed had cooled, he felt with one hand, but refused to look for himself. Instead he focused on the amulet.

It twisted. Of course, he thought, she would leave as soon as possible. The horrors of the last few days, deaths and bedlam, were just too much. Even he knew, without her, there was no point of staying in Hemlock Hurst. Moments ago his heart had soared, yet now, it had fallen back to earth, where all was misery. Only days empty of her were ahead, life to drag on.

Already did his heart pine for her. He wished he could be angry at her. It was only right that he hurt by the departure. Only thing to do now was to rest. If it was hard for him to go home before, it would be impossible now. Of course, he would watch over the house, its affairs and maintenance. Every moment would bring Marie back to him, if only for fleeting moments. A deep hitch in his chest only grew deeper, so he tried to think of chores to do around Eleanor.

Thoughts of the house and Ashless Hollow brought Marie's beautiful face back into focus. He had held her, kissed those lovely lips, yet he wanted more, needed more. Haunting of his heart by her was long, but after these last few days, it would last for years. Love lost made a heart older. In every face, every kiss, a piece of her would remain, so all after would be made lesser. Would it even be possible to replace her?

No, he thought, it would never be possible to find another such as her. Gone, upon some new truth to reveal, he was sure. It was his fear. Before she'd return, after the initial call, he was afraid. She would come back with all her mysterious beauty, and he would fall in love with Marie again, hopelessly lost in her regard.

Was it better that they'd never met? He was unsure. All he was certain about was the icy ache in his chest, and his burning eyes. So long as he stayed in this bed, where her gingerbread sweetness lingered, the truth of her absence could be denied. Wishes were for children, yet he begged for Marie's return. The arm that searched for her instead crossed his eyes to blot out the world. In this darkness, she was here.

"I love you, Inky," he said in fathomless misery.

"I love you too," Marie replied with a puzzled grin.

Tim shot up, broad grin filled with open joy, "Hey…uh, where did you go?"

"Well, after last night," she rolled her eyes with a smile, "I woke up pretty hungry. You looked so happy, that I left you in bed. I made breakfast." She unveiled the eggs with a flourish, "I knew, after your fight with Barnett, you would need something good to eat, my hero."

Tim blushed, "I don't know how I won, and all I can recall is that monster's fists." He sat up with a wince, but she motioned him back.

"You don't have to get up," large green eyes flecked with gold measured bruises. Marie pulled up the covers, winced, and dropped them back, "You should rest. After last night, we both need some time to recover."

Marie smiled, and set the plate of food beside him. The pull of Ashless Hollow beckoned her, and she left the room. Outside, a new day had come. She willed the Hallowed Dream return. To her surprised joy, the bog already showed significant change. Forlorn misery that hung in the very air had dispersed. Manic energy that clung to every root and branch was lifted. Ever present gazes on the skin were gone. Like a healing wound, it felt cleaner, healthier.

Under the myriad smells of rot, the scent of wet wood clung, unspoiled. A playful breeze carried with it the smell of berry ripe and ready. Shafts of light pierced the distant gloom to prove darkness's grip had faltered. Bird song, nervous though excited, drifted down from the tree tops. Unspoken terrors, unseen stalkers of the woods, had fallen away. The land began to heal.

Again surprised, Marie saw the flower at the yard's edge. Even the wild rose seemed surprised at its existence. Though she would swear that it was not there last night, it opened bravely to receive the sun. Though bent, bruised, and misshapen, it was still there ready to flourish. In the days to come, there was a chance to grow. This gift, it seemed to her, was a sign from Ashless Hollow. A promise that the sins of the past were being let go.