Hey guys, I'm sorry I haven't really continued any stories lately. However, this was something I just typed up. It may or may not be a oneshot, but if I want to continue it, I will. This is the same character that appears in I Never Meant to Cause you Trouble.

Please leave feedback, or else I won't write any more...


Liz had sworn that she'd never see any of her lieutenants die.

After Carlos, she didn't want to bear any more of it. It wasn't just to keep her gang's image clean, of course.

She didn't want anyone else to see her emotions crack again.

As she lifted her head from her pillow, she realized how she broke this tightly locked promise.

It was a cold December morning, and after recalling what had happened the night before, she didn't think she would be able to face what was going to happen today.

It was December 14th; the day of Johnny Gat's funeral.

After realizing that she had woken up fifteen minutes late, she cursed silently under her breath. This wasn't a day she thought would come in the near future at all.

Quite frankly, she thought Gat would be the one coming to her own funeral.

After running a hand quickly through her fiery hair, she looked around her old Stilwater apartment. It was one of the few places left in the city she could go without being surrounded by cops or Saints. All of her other properties were frequently crashed by her fellow gang members. It was an obligation of hers; she had used the gang money to buy the expensive cribs her homies hung out in. However, this apartment of hers was the only true thing she owned solely by herself. Nobody else could come in unless she told them she could, and she preferred to keep it that way.

It had been a long time since she had actually stayed here for more than a night. Everyone else had been staying the night at the Purgatory. As much as Liz would have liked to stay there, something had told her to stay far away from it. It wasn't exactly the bad smell or the strippers that populated it, either.

Memories of Johnny and her in the Saints' own night club quickly began to flood her mind, and she realized why she hadn't stayed. The drinks they had shared and the spells they had sat and planned every Ronin attack in that place seemed infinite.

As she made her way to her small bathroom, she carefully pulled a blunt that Shaundi had rolled for her the other day. She had figured her boss needed the time to unwind, and although she had left her bohemian druggie persona behind, now seemed to be the one little time to bring it back. Liz's thoughts only continued to wander as the smoke billowed everywhere in the confined room.

"Smoke in mirrors…" she mumbled to herself. She blew a small cloud of smoke directly into the mirror before looking at her slowly aging face. "That's what it was…"

Regardless of how wasted she would ever get, she knew Johnny's death would never be smoke in mirrors. It was getting real, and until that casket dropped into the ground, she could do whatever she wanted to convince herself that her best friend was still truly breathing.

She wouldn't accept it.

Not in a million years.