IT ALL HAPPENED in slow motion. Of course, in real time, the period between Lindy pushing open the French doors and tumbling into the greenhouse happened much faster than she actually thought it had. But in her mind, the scene played out like a movie. An action movie even, the kind where intense sequences pan out slowly so that the audience can scrutinize every detail in front of them.

This happened to Lindy. Except she was the audience — she didn't have any part in the actual slowing down, the long, drawn out seconds that took place. She was watching it as a bystander, processing the details and making sense of them one by one in her head.

The first thing she saw was Kurt. But he wasn't the way that she had pictured finding him.

He was sitting up, his legs out in front of him as she had initially seen, but the rest of his body upright as he held a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and a can of Barq's root beer in the other.

This sight alone should have caused her to faint with sheer relief, but there other tricky details that kept Lindy locked in place as her eyes roved the greenhouse. Next to Kurt, who was clearly and thankfully alive, was a cigar box of many things. Things like a syringe, a rubber band, and a very loaded packet of tar black heroin.

But worst of all was the shotgun case that lay open not too far away from Kurt, revealing the slender gun poised in its cocoon casing. For some reason, this struck Lindy the most. She zeroed in on the gun, and its presence in the setting was enough to wrest her back into present time and out of the slow motion sludge she'd become stuck in.

Kurt's face, which had been peacefully thoughtful before Lindy had entered the greenhouse so unceremoniously, took on an expression of genuine astonishment. He had been mid-sip of his root beer when she walked in.

"Lindy?" he asked, unable to even understand how she found him.

Lindy didn't bother responding. She latched on to the first goal that crossed her mind, and that was to disarm Kurt before anything else could go wrong. She sped forward, catching him by surprise as she swiped the cigar box of heroin fixings from his reach and scuttled backwards, away from him.

She gasped when her back hit the wall and she slid down it. Now she was sitting too. They faced each other, both of them on the linoleum floor of the greenhouse with nothing but space between them. Lindy clung to the cigar box as if Kurt was going to telepathically snatch it from her hands. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him.

He was alive. But he almost hadn't been. And that terrified her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kurt demanded, putting out the cigarette as time returned to its normal pace and Lindy felt like she could finally breathe again.

"What the hell are YOU doing?" she cried, shaking the box before tossing it on the floor next to her. As badly as she wanted to sweep him up in her arms and kiss his face, to cry on his shoulder and thank God for keeping him on earth, she couldn't. Lindy knew better than that. Nothing was over yet. Not quite.

Kurt locked his jaw. Guilt fell over his face like the graceful fall of a curtain, and Lindy knew that she had her answer. She'd been right. Maybe not all the way — he wasn't dead. But the greenhouse had turned out to really be the best hiding place in the world.

"God fucking damn it!" Lindy shouted. The French doors had swung close, but she didn't even care if Cali heard her. She was too overwhelmed by an odd mixture of rage and love, two starkly different emotions that bounced back and forth inside of her.

"How did you find me?" Kurt asked, avoiding Lindy's eyes as he looked down at the floor. He seemed disappointed, angry even, to have been found.

"You told me about this place," Lindy said breathlessly. "You told me it was a hiding place where no one could find you. You told me yourself."

"And you remembered?" Kurt asked, sounding full of disbelief but also mild fascination that Lindy had clung to such a disposable detail.

"Not exactly. It just happened. But forget it."

Lindy closed her eyes and then opened them, a test to make sure that Kurt really was there, alive. He was, but that didn't erase the gun and heroin he had brought along to the greenhouse with him. He had not gone to the greenhouse to hide, hoping that he would be found. He had gone there to die.

"You said you'd never leave," Lindy said through her teeth. She was resisting the urge to cry again.

"Lindy, please just go," Kurt begged softly. He still had not looked into her eyes. "You don't understand now but you will later. Please go."

"Fuck no! I'm not going anywhere!" Lindy spat, upset that Kurt would even try to suggest that she leave. He flinched, still keeping eye contact with only the linoleum.

Lindy picked up the cigar box of Kurt's heroin fixings and held it tight in her hands, curling her fingers around the rough wooden edges and concentrating on the rise and fall of her chest. She counted each breath, one by one, until she finally felt like she had some shred of control over herself. The greenhouse was not warm, not in the dismal April weather, but she was highly aware of the sweat dampening her forehead and neck.

Of one thing Lindy was entirely sure of — Kurt was alive.

Her worst fear had not come true after all. She had not found him bloodied and dead on the floor with not an ounce of his soul left whispering throughout his body. His heartbeat had yet to cease. He was alive and apparently sober.

But she was not sure that this overwhelming good news defeated all of the other problems at hand. Kurt being alive had not changed the fact that he still wanted to die. It was only by a miracle of chance that Lindy had gotten to him before he'd taken his own life. He may have still been tethered to the physical world, but this did not mean that he was not dying to escape it. Lindy could not change this.

And worst of all, she may have gotten her hands on one of Kurt's dangerous belongings, but she had not gotten the second. Kurt still possessed the shotgun. He still had the power to pull the trigger.

Lindy willed her body to stop trembling, but pure inclination wasn't enough. With her back against the wall of the greenhouse, she never took her eyes off Kurt, feeling her jaw tighten every few seconds in effort to stop herself from crying.

"Why are you doing this?" Lindy asked. It hurt to speak while her throat was closing up. "Why would you even think this was okay?"

Kurt closed his blue eyes, raising his hands to his face but not covering it. He looked strangely tranquil, but not even his face could hide the maelstrom Lindy knew was raging inside of him. Otherwise, he would not have been there in the first place, ready to die.

"Nobody was supposed to know. You weren't supposed to come here."

"Well thank god I did!" Lindy cried. She bit down hard on her tongue.

Don't cry. You can't do that now.

"This isn't about you, Lindy. This is all me. Please go. I'm asking you to leave."

"Don't ask again because I'm not leaving. I'm not letting you do this. I don't care if I've got to strap you down to the floor, I'm not letting you die Kurt!"

As much as Lindy meant what she said, she couldn't forget who had the upper-hand in the room. Kurt could have taken the shotgun out right then and there and ended it all if he really wanted to. She kept counting on the hope that there was a small part of him that still wanted to live, and that's why he had not done it yet.

But then again, he would never do it front of her. Kurt would never scar her in that way.

"I can't explain this to you," Kurt said, his voice shattering with the impossible attempt to sound rigid. "I don't want to talk about this shit. I'm tired of making people understand. I love you but I can't make you understand."

"Yes you can," Lindy pleaded, leaning forward. "Kurt, all you have to do is say the words and I'll understand. We're meant to understand each other, don't you know that? How else do you think I found you? Explain that to me!"

Kurt's eyes were watering now, filling at the brim with a sheen of frightened tears. He had been confident, so ready to face the pressing blackness but now he was seeing her face again. And when he saw her face, it made him want to stay, even though he felt like he couldn't.

"I'm ruining your life, Lindy. Fuck, I already have ruined it. I don't want to live another day knowing I've disappointed you, or Frances, or my band. I can't look at all of you anymore knowing that I can't do a god damn thing to fix how I am. I tried to fix it. I really tried."

"I know you did," Lindy whispered. "But don't give up. Please don't give up yet."

"You don't deserve this. Frances doesn't deserve this. She shouldn't have to grow up worrying about her dad getting high or reading some shit news article about me being a junkie who can't take care of her. I want her to be happy and I want you to be happy. I want you both to be so fucking happy but I know that won't happen unless I'm not here."

"That's not true! You're wrong, Kurt! Frances needs you and so do I!"

"You don't need me. You don't need to wake up every day alone in your bed because my wife won't divorce me. You don't need to be strung along by some addict who can't even be there for you."

Kurt was crying now, his face so twisted with pain that Lindy physically felt it herself. The transfer of his pain over to her made it all so clear. Kurt's emotional suffering had become too heavy. For him, it would be easier to snuff it out rather than live another day of carrying it upon his shoulders.

"Kurt, I need you . . ."

"YOU DON'T!" Kurt suddenly roared. He picked up his ash tray, littered with cigarette butts and threw it at the wall farthest from Lindy. It didn't strike close to her, but the loud crack of it connecting with the wall made her jump with terror.

"You're under the impression that you need me but that's only because you love too much. You've always loved too much, especially me. And Frances? She'll grow up and never know me. She'll never have to deal with what I have put you through."

"It's not just about what we all need from you," Lindy insisted, now desperate. If her eyes did not deceive her, she saw Kurt's fingers twitch towards his shotgun case. "It's who you are. You're everything. Sweet, empathetic and smart . . ."

Kurt raised his hands to his ears, shaking his head and closing his eyes to shut his senses away from Lindy's praise. He didn't want it. He didn't want to hear what he thought was just another false statement made to pacify him. 

"Stay with me," Lindy begged. "I promise you it will all be better if you stay. We can make this better."

Her eyes drifted for a moment across the greenhouse. They landed on a shelf that held a row of potting soil; on top of one of the clay pots was a sheet of paper with a pen staked through the middle.

A suicide note.

Lindy couldn't take it. She couldn't try any longer to hold back the flood of tears and angst that had welled inside of her like a rogue wave. She tucked both of her arms around her midsection and sobbed, scrunching her face and allowing the dam of her agony to break apart and release everything out into the open.

He wanted to die so badly. Her beautiful Kurt, the man that she couldn't have dreamt up even if she had tried, did not want to live. His pain was so tangible to her that it ached down to her bones. Between her own hurt, shouldering Kurt's as well was like a catastrophic explosion that tore her apart. She wept for him. It was torment knowing that the most wonderful person in her life didn't think he was worth even just another day of living.

Kurt watched as Lindy broke down. He too began to cry harder. That was the problem with soulmates. All of their feelings became mutual, shared between a bond so powerful that it didn't even abide by the laws of nature. Kurt could feel Lindy's pain, but he also felt guilt, seeing her mourn just the mere idea of his death.

"You know I love you," he choked out, miserably sliding his hands down his face and over his mouth. "But I can't be here anymore Lindy."

"Please don't," Lindy moaned. She could barely see out of her eyes. They were so blurred with tears, making her feel like she was under water. "Please stay. Please Kurt."

And then Kurt did what was sure to have only been a threat — a suggestion to Lindy that she leave the room. He would have never done it in front of her, but he couldn't stand the misery for a second longer. He reached for the shotgun, his fingers grazing the cool steel exterior as they prepared to lift it from its casing and position it just the way he wanted it.

Just the way he had pictured it happening.

Lindy saw what he was doing and widened her eyes, horror contorting her face as she felt her heart stop in her chest. He wouldn't do it. He couldn't. Kurt would never commit such a gruesome act of violence with her so close, but the warning of his intentions made her realize what she would have to do.

It was a last ditch effort, one last attempt to make him abandon the idea of dying. She had waited so long to tell him, and although they were not in her ideal state of affairs, it was a real life case of 'now or never.' It was the one thing standing between her life with or without Kurt.

"Stop!" she screamed. "Kurt, stop! I'm pregnant! Please! I'm pregnant!"