Note: Six chapters long. Quotes from selected poems by the immortal Ghalib. Feedback is always appreciated. Story will contain heavy smut in the fifth chapter; version posted here will obviously be different and cleaner. To view the original chapter when it is posted and to view the banners I have made for this story, please click the link ot my site, Solo Ensemble, which is in my profile. Thank you.
Blaze
The scene, the one looking, and the ability to see are all the same.
If that is so, why am I confused about what is in front of me?
"That's fine, Mr. Man – you can sleep over at Teddy's. I'm sending Marco over with your pajamas and toothbrush, okay, baby? Don't stay up too late…Okay…Love you, too… Goodnight, Michael."
With a small smile, Carly Corinthos clicked the cordless black phone off and set it on the dining table, her pencil-heeled boots clicking on the floor as she strode into the kitchen to check on her frozen pizza. Sonny was still at the warehouse for some meeting – she still had a good twenty minutes to devour her processed dinner with just her one-liter bottle of Pepsi to keep her company. This was indeed the Valentine's Day gift she needed.
The pizza was done and she slid it carefully out of the oven, cutting it quickly and arranging the pieces on a plate that she then carried back to the table. The penthouse was empty tonight; the only other individual lurking around was Johnny outside the door.
"Ooh, I know," she murmured to herself, leaving her dinner to cool slightly and walking over to the entertainment center to pick out a CD. The only music that Sonny ever played was his Latin instrumentals or that goddamn Godfather soundtrack; tonight was all about Madonna and her "Beautiful Stranger".
Hips swaying to the catchy and lively tune, Carly danced back over to her pizza and collapsed eagerly into the cushioned seat. She had just lifted up the first slice when the telephone, still perched on the lacy tablecloth, rang and interrupted her.
"Damn." Muttering to herself, Carly reached for it and clicked it on with one perfectly manicured nail. "Corinthos residence – Carly."
"Mrs. Corinthos…"Her brows furrowed at the familiar voice. "Max? Is that you?"
"Er, yes, ma'am, it is. Mrs. Corinthos, there's been…there's been a fire at the warehouse, ma'am."
Her heart leapt to her throat.
"Mrs. Corinthos, we're afraid…we're afraid Mr. Corinthos was inside at the time of the explosion."
The slice of pizza fell from her hand, splattering steaming red tomato sauce on Sonny's favorite white tablecloth, and Carly nearly dropped the phone in shock as well. "No. Oh, Max, no…"
The bodyguard's voice cut through her choking gasp of a sob. "The fire department is on their way and-"
"I'm coming." Abruptly, she clicked off the phone and stood, not hearing the clattering noise that echoed through the silent penthouse when the cordless black device fell to the floor. It was February and freezing outside, but Carly didn't think to grab her down jacket. Instead, she grabbed the first coat she saw and flew out the door, an anxious Johnny hard on her heels.
The flames swirled higher, licking the murky night sky, brutally caressing it like a spiteful lover. And with each stroke, each lick, each tantalizingly cruel touch, Elizabeth's heart pounded harder, faster, a jackhammer in motion within the confines of her rib cage.
The warehouse was on fire.
Her heart hurled itself against her ribs, recoiling at the harsh impact only to repeat the motion again.
Jason.
He had left not two minutes ago, racing out of her studio and the safe confines of his invisibility therein. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. In comparison, the flames of the fire looked bitterly cold, and Elizabeth shivered as her nails began to dig into the soft skin of her palm.
Jason.
She didn't hear the door to her studio open, but she did hear the loud, booming voice that issued forth from the guest. "Elizabeth!"
The brunette spun around from the window, the flames casting demonic, flickering shadows on the walls of her already dark studio. "L-Lucky."
A wide grin graced his face, making his pale blue eyes sparkle. "Hey, babe! Happy Valentine's Day!"
Numbly outstretching her arms as Lucky extended a bouquet of a dozen white roses, Elizabeth could only gape at him, unable to shake the chill that had suddenly paralyzed her body and immobilized her thoughts.
Jason.
"Elizabeth?" Lucky had noticed that something was wrong, and his cool topaz eyes bore into hers, searching the depths of the warm sapphire orbs he had come to love so much. "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"
She was going to be sick. It just couldn't be happening again. Forcing the strength back into her knees, Elizabeth had to close her eyes to muster up the force to say the terrible words. "Oh, God, Lucky – the warehouse…it's on fire."
For the first time since he had arrived, the boy looked around and finally took in his surroundings. Sure enough, faint shadows were playing upon the brick walls of the studio, dancing about like a gleeful child. His eyes darted to the solitary window in the studio, his legs propelling him as if of their own volition. The sight that greeted him was one that he was ill-prepared for, and the awe-inspiring power of the vicious flames had Lucky backing away weakly from the windowsill.
"Oh, my God."
He felt Elizabeth move behind him and whirled around to see the look of fear still frozen on her face. "Oh, Elizabeth, the fire…Oh, my God, come here."
Wordlessly, she fell into his embrace, clinging to him like a lifeline. What Lucky mistook as grief from the barrage of memories when he himself was thought to be consumed by fire was instead grief over the fact that another man very close to her had raced off to do the same. "I'm so sorry."
She nodded timidly, knowing that he thought the fire was taking her back to the fire in Jason's garage so many years ago. And even though guilt threatened to seep through her – guilt at thinking only of Jason when she should be thinking about Lucky and everything that previous fire took from them – Elizabeth refused to succumb. "Let's – Let's go."
"Down there?" Lucky asked, peering down at her with surprise. Due to her past experiences with fire, he had figured she would want to stay as far away from the roaring blaze as she could. But there was something in her eyes – something he couldn't place, but something that told him she had to do this. "Okay. Let's go – come on."
He handed her a knee-length coat appropriate for the February chill, and she haphazardly pulled it on, still maintaining a hold on the forgotten flowers he had handed her. In less than a minute, Lucky had the door to the studio pulled open and gently guided a thoroughly rattled Elizabeth out before securing it behind him.
He didn't notice the few dark green leaves, wrinkled with veins and still shining from the dewy ambience at the florist's, that fell to the ground to be crushed underneath Elizabeth's thick black soles.
The smoke was oppressive; visibility had been reduced to a mere joke. As had breathing without obstruction.
Standing alone in what used to be a familiar office, Sonny Corinthos struggled to draw in a breath. He heard the yells of his men, still trapped in the building and frantically searching for a safe exit. He hoped to be with them when they found it, but now – now, he could barely move.
He half-stumbled, half-fell down the hallway, bracing his weight against the walls. There was a thick curtain of black smoke cloaking the entire vicinity, coaxing him not so gently to cough up his one remaining functioning lung. Sonny Corinthos had faced a lot in his young life – an abusive stepfather, cutthroat rivals, a dangerous business, numerous betrayals, and several assassination attempts. But for the first time in a long time, he was honestly afraid for his life.
He didn't know if he'd be lucky enough to make it out of this one – alive.
His chest heaved, lungs and throat burning with a fire fiercer and more painful than the one that raged in his warehouse, but Sonny knew he had to keep moving. If he rested – if he gave in and took a break – he'd be gone for sure. The smoke would drown him, pull him under to the dark, dense depths from which there would be no return.
The yells of the men were quieter now – he could barely hear them. Numbly and with the onset of unmistakable panic, Sonny wondered if that was because he was slowly weakening under the power of the blaze or if his men were, in fact, able to find a way out.
He preferred the second option, and continued to struggle blindly in what he hoped was the opposite direction of the flames. Images of Carly, images of his little red-headed son flashed before his eyes and Sonny fought that much harder to find a way back out to them. She would be worried and scared and lashing out at anyone that came within a ten-foot radius – he had to get out there to her and prove that he was just fine. Just fine. He was going to be just fine.
Awareness had fled long ago, replaced with a blind urge to find freedom – to keep moving and find something. And indeed, he had found something. Another office.
Another goddamn office.
Obsidian eyes wide and helpless, Sonny stood still and gazed around. He couldn't figure out if it was the same office he had just stood in. Goddamn it, he just couldn't understand…
A deafening roar pulsed through the building like a fatal thunderbolt, pulsing through the walls and the foundation and Sonny's own body. The fire similar to the one that set the building ablaze now set his senses ablaze; immobilized, Sonny could do little as the room lurched violently to the side. Furniture rolled, walls cracked, flames crept closer and closer, beams split and fell.
Oh, God.
The warehouse was collapsing.
"Oh, God." The fiery inferno that assaulted Carly Corinthos as she joined the melee at the warehouse sent out waves of blistering, forbidding heat. "Oh, God, no. Oh, no. Sonny! NO!"
Everything in her body pulsed at that moment, sending her rocketing forward in the direction of the blaze with little rhyme or reason. The searing heat waves probed her body, fanning out over her exposed face and hands, and she was certain that she would have stepped into the depths of the fiery hell to save her husband had a pair of strong hands not grabbed her and held her back.
"NO! My husband's in there! Sonny Corinthos – he's in there! You have to do something!"
"Ma'am, please." The officer's hands grabbed her tighter, a firm embrace to keep her out of harm's way. "We're doing all we can and-"
"Let go of me!" she spat out, hissing and recoiling from his touch only to try to launch herself back toward the flaming warehouse. "That's my husband in there!" A figure came barreling out of a clot of officers and caught Carly's eye; the man in the khaki-colored trench coat had made a habit of pursuing the people in her life, but now Carly was the one pursuing him. "Taggert!"
He spun around, not prepared to find her at the scene, and for a second his obsidian eyes revealed a type of helplessness that the Lieutenant was accustomed to hiding. "Carly."
She broke free from the cop that was still trying to hold her back from his commanding officer and latched onto the tall detective's lapel. "Taggert, Sonny's in there!"
"Carly-"
"NO! Sonny's in there – You have to get him out! Why aren't you getting him out of there?"
"Carly, please, we're doing all we can!"
She pulled him down, standing nose-to-nose as they stared each other down. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and neck; the heat from the fire was making him sweat. It was making her shiver. "You're not doing enough!"
Taggert pulled himself away brusquely, motioning for an officer to hold her back as he went and found out just what the hell was keeping the firefighters from starting their battle. If one of the hydrants had frozen…then the warehouse would become a crypt.
He could still hear Carly yelling behind him, obviously struggling with the officer that was just doing his best to keep her a safe distance from the consuming flames. She was railing on against him, against the entire PCPD, as only Carly could – but the roar of the flames echoed through his head louder than Carly's pained screeching, and Taggert did his best to shut everything else out and do his job.
She was limp in his arms. The officer had his arms around her waist, supporting her weight, holding her up as Carly wept. A semblance of strength crept slowly into her knees, enough for her to break away from the officer and hold herself up enough to stare helplessly at the flames. They were so large now, dancing up to chase away the night air and boldly taunt the starry heavens. And the warehouse…the warehouse was being consumed.
Footsteps thundered over the pavement behind her, the strong running gait of an even stronger man, and some of the coldness that had paralyzed Carly's body lifted when she felt that unmistakable hand on her shoulder.
"Carly."
She knew who it was without even having to turn around but she did, toppling into the embrace she knew so well. "Oh, Jason, Jason…" He gripped her shoulders, shaking her roughly.
"Carly! Carly, talk to me!"
"Oh, Jason…Sonny. He's in there, Jason, you have to get him out! Please, please…you have to get him out!"
Her blue coat stood out vividly against the tapestry of red and orange flames, and Jason could feel her shaking in his strong grasp. Cheeks dark from the drifting smoke, stained with the clear, slick paths of her tears, Carly clung to him, shaking him as violently as she could, begging him to save her husband. Her voice drifted soundlessly through his ears; all he could hear was the yells of the officers, the roar of the furious flames, the pounding of his own heart when he realized his boss and best friend was somewhere inside the inferno.
Jason's piercing cerulean eyes focused on his newest foe – the blinding and forbidding fire that licked the warehouse, embraced it in a white-hot hug. Everything else drifted away as easily as Carly's voice; he didn't hear the firefighters yelling that the hydrant had frozen over. He didn't hear two sets of footsteps that raced toward the scene, although he would have recognized one particular set without question before.
"I'm going in." He squeezed Carly's shoulders once, felt her claws bite into his biceps, and then he was off. Motorcycle boots thundering over the pavement, leather jacket open despite the February chill and flapping against his chest, Jason ignored the enraged shouts of Taggert and Capelli to stay out, to stay back. The only thing that mattered was getting in and finding Sonny – saving his boss the way Jason knew Sonny would save him if he had to.
Carly wrapped her arms around herself as Jason ran steadily into the wall of flames, knowing that two of the most important men in her life would soon be facing the same fiery end; they just had to make it out okay. They just had to.
Choking sobs overcame her body, her shoulders convulsing violently as her heart threatened to cut off her breath from its lodging in her throat. She felt someone move behind her but didn't turn to look; taking her gaze from the hypnotic flames had proved to be impossible long ago.
Lucky's wide eyes took in the scene before him; Carly was sobbing next to him, but he just couldn't recover from the power of the fire. It had taken out a good portion of the warehouse – how the place was still standing was beyond him. Whoever was still in there didn't have much time left, especially with the fact that the firefighters were having a hard time combating the damage done to the hydrants by the freezing temperatures. The scene was pure chaos – the shouts of men, the creaks and groans of the trucks and equipment, the wails of the warehouse as it prepared to fall, the sobs and gasps of spectators – but Lucky remained numb. It was so familiar…the warehouse fire…the garage fire, under the cover of which he had been kidnapped. There had always been something so hypnotic about the tall flames to him…
Next to him, Elizabeth had a firm grip on the bouquet of roses in one hand and his arm in the other, and Lucky felt an audible gasp rip through her, and at that instant her fingers tightened in a vice-like grip on his bicep.
Straining to see what she saw, he finally did, and his body tensed as well although for different reasons. So intent was he in concentrating on the scene that he entirely missed the look on Elizabeth's face. She looked as if she had been punched in the stomach; lips frozen in a silent gasp, knuckles turning white around Lucky's arm, eyes wide with shock and disbelief and grief, Elizabeth could hardly force herself to breathe.
Jason, now just a blur in a black-as-smoke leather jacket, had just disappeared behind the wall of flames.
I am willing to give up my breath and my life for you,
Even though I don't know the first thing about sacrifice.