For at least the fifth time in as many minutes, David checked his phone, hoping for a text message. Seeing that once again there was nothing, he looked up and over towards Paige's desk, attempting to make eye contact with her. However, it was all for naught, for Paige was adamantly refusing to acknowledge him in any way.

He'd been trying for the better half of four hours to get her attention, but much to his bafflement, she had snubbed all his efforts, and quite snippily at that. David was used to Paige's teasing and feisty nature, but this was anything but playful. No doubt about it, she was angry with him. After all, Paige was more than merely a good friend; she was, for all intents and purposes, a surrogate little sister. And as this was the case, David was well aware of her mannerisms and moods. However, this current mood left him truly baffled. To be fair, he'd been a little late that morning . . . alright . . . maybe more than a little late, seeing as he hadn't shown till after 1:00. Yet other than ribbing him, as was to be expected, everything appeared fine. But when he'd stopped by again to chat, she'd blown him off, saying that she was busy and putting in her other ear bud, making it abundantly clear that any attempts were unwelcomed and for him to go away.

David wracked his brain trying to understand the sudden shift in the situation. What precisely had he done to upset her? Was it the situation with Joan? He genuinely had been ignorant of the fact that his publicist was so infatuated with him; and now that he was aware of it, he wasn't sure he'd be able to look her in the eye anymore. And surely it couldn't be about the chair that he'd nicked. True, Paige was a bit eccentric at times, but she wasn't ridiculous; and to be upset over a bleeding desk chair was practically the definition of ridiculous.

Sighing in frustration and rubbing the back of his tense neck, David powered off his computer and pushed away from his desk. It was nearing 7:00 P.M. and he had agreed to meet with a few friends for drinks; if he was going to arrive on time, he needed to head out. Deciding to try yet again, David walked over to Paige and leant against her desk, staring directly at her, almost as if attempting to will her into acknowledgment.

"Any chance you're going to stop being so bloody stubborn and just come out and tell me why you've been ignoring me for hours?"

Still not meeting his gaze, Paige clicked the volume up on her phone and remained silent, her fingers furiously typing away on her keyboard. Finally having had enough of her childish behavior, David reached over and pulled out one of her ear buds.

"Will you please just answer me?" he grumbled irritably.

She whirled her head up, glowering, smacking his arm in retaliation. "Are you so frickin' dense that you can't take a hint?"

David felt a flash of fire in his veins at her behavior. It was heated, confrontational, and completely unwarranted. Just as he was about to spout his own brand of aggravation back at her, the door to Wilf's office swung open, and the man himself hurried out.

"Jason!" he called out across the room. "Did you get ahold of anybody?"

The young, sandy haired man groaned loudly and slammed down his desk phone, raking his hands through his hair for the umpteenth. "Nobody," he called back, picking up the phone again and dialing yet another number. "I've tried almost everybody. Kev's wife went into labor last night, so he's out. Mike's phone rang twice before going to voicemail. I called again and it didn't even ring, so I know he's ignoring me. Hilary's in Minneapolis with her folks until next Thursday. Raj is . . . somewhere . . . You want me to keep going? Coz I got more . . ."

"No," Wilf sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I get the picture. What about Rose? I know it's a long shot, but did ya try her?"

"Um . . . the new girl? Yeah, I tried 'bout twenty minutes ago, but hers just went straight to voicemail. I left a message, but I wouldn't bank on her callin' back in time. I'm battin' a thousand here, Boss," Jason grumbled before turning his attention to the phone and speaking inaudibly into the receiver.

With Jason's negative report finished, Wilf groaned inwardly. A report had come over the wire about a raging apartment complex fire with suspected fatalities, and he had absolutely no one to send out to the scene. He was officially up a creek without a paddle. That is, unless . . .

"David," he started, turning to the young columnist and slowly rubbing the back of his neck, "I know it's been a while since you were out in the field, but- . . ."

"Oh don't worry, Gramps . . . No need to ask," Paige interjected quickly. "David's gonna cover it."

"Wait, what?" David asked, his confused gaze bouncing between Paige and Wilf.

Wilf's mind was so preoccupied with the masses of information and tasks to complete that he completely overlooked David's bewilderment and merely accepted Paige's word. "Really?" The relief was clearly evident in his voice. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, especially since it's such short notice. Sweetheart, you'll give him the address, yeah?"

"You bet," she assured him with a smile.

"What?" David chimed again, his gaze ultimately settling on Paige, who was still steadfastly refusing to look his way. She was obviously up to something.

"Wonderful," Wilf nodded and then promptly returned to his office, closing the door behind him and effectively ending his participation in any further conversation.

"What just happened? And what did I supposedly agree to?" David growled irritably.

"Oh my God, I've had all I can take of this crap," Paige snapped, jumping up from her chair. Without another word, she grabbed his arm, pulling him into the first vacant office, and slamming the door for its worth.

"What is your bloody problem?" David snapped, directing a fierce glare at the young woman.

"Oh for crap's sake, it's you! You're my problem," she countered. "Did you really not put two and two together? 'Cause I wasn't anywhere near subtle about it."

"What did I do? What has you so unbelievably pissed off at me? If this is about me coming into work late, that didn't seem to bother you earli-. . ."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with you showin' up whenever you friggin' feel like it!"

"Then what, Paige?! Because this, this is absolutely bloody ridiculous!" David shouted, completely fed up with the insanity. This behavior was exactly one of the reasons he often referred to her as his little sister—she could be so bloody infuriating!

"I know how you did it!" Paige hissed, glowering at him.

"Did what?"

"I know how you never missed a deadline!"

There was an instant drop of David's stomach as an immediate mixture of dread and guilt filled him. Self-preservation finally took over his mental faculties. Taking a slow gulp, he cleared his throat and did the first thing that came to mind—he played dumb.

"I don- . . ." he started, but was immediately cut off before he could even properly begin.

"Don't you even dare try to deny it!" Paige snapped, angrily shoving a finger at his face. "'Cause I'm not gonna buy whatever B.S. excuse you try an' give me! I'm not stupid, David, so just don't."

Once again guilt washed over David. "Paige . . ."

Chuckling derisively, she shook her head and shoved her hand into her back pocket. Paige pulled out a folded group of papers, opened it, and shoved the wrinkled papers onto his chest with surprising force.

"I didn't even think about it until today when you brought it up . . ." she sighed gruffly, the anger palpable in her hot breath. "You said you'd never missed a deadline. Never. Then I thought more about it and realized that you haven't even been down to the wire. You've submitted it with time to spare. Which made me think—how is that possible? You've been so unpredictable the last few months, practically the definition of flakey. So, just how could you possibly pull all that off?"

David turned his guilty gaze the creased papers in his hand, still rendered silent.

"Oh, have we decided to skip the denial or did you suddenly forget? Well, here, lemme remind you." She pulled the papers out of his hand and harshly put them side by side on the desk. "This," she pointed to the paper on her left, "is almost an exact copy of this," she finished by pointing to the paper on her right. "Nearly word for word. You basically plagiarized your own column."

David's eyes flickered up to meet Paige's steely stare. There was nothing he could say to justify his actions, he knew that. All he could do was sigh in defeat, which he did resignedly. Much to his dismay, his action was mimicked by the young woman, whose own sigh was coupled with her resting against the wooden desk, her bottom inadvertently pushing aside several scattered items.

Running a hand through the length of her hair and gathering it together, she twisted it and placed it over her shoulder, playing with the grouped end.

"I'm sorry," was the only response David could quietly muster.

Shaking her head at his apology, Paige sniffed softly and cast her eyes downward. After a brief pause, she began, "I'm not sure what's worse—the fact that you did such a thing, or the fact you tried to lie about it."

Her voice was small and held a clear lining of disappointment. Hearing such a tone weighed down David's heart and caused renewed guilt to flow through him. Taking the few steps over to her, he took a place beside her on the desk, wrapping an arm around the width of her back.

"I've let you down, haven't I?"

Another sniff happened, and his assumption was confirmed by a slight nod of her head. "It's just. . .y'know all you had to do was tell Gramps you couldn't do it or needed a break from things, and he woulda done it, no questions asked. But you didn't even bother trying. You took advantage of him, of his kindness and trust. And he does not deserve that. After all he's done for you, after all the years we've known each other. . . He gets so much crap from so many people, he doesn't need it from someone he views as a son. So yeah, y- . . ." she trailed off.

David's heart was in a vise. The truth of her words was painful, and though he didn't want to hear more about how he failed her, he cared too much for her to let her hold in her feelings.

"Go on. . .tell me," he prodded, gently nudging her closer to him.

"You let me down, David. An' you tryin' to pull one over on Gramps. . . that. . .that hurts me."

The slight, hitched sob that punctuated her words was the final straw for David and he pulled her tight to his side. Hearing the normally strong, fiery young woman convey such emotion shamed him.

"Oh, Paige," he kissed the top of her head, "I never meant to do such a thing to either of you. You two are the closest thing I have to family and you mean the world to me, and I. . ." he trailed, sighing a bit wearily.

Why did he resort to recycling his work? Yes, the past several months had been chaotic, that was undeniable; but he was used to chaos. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind was an underlying motive, just beyond his reach. But now was not the time for him to meditate on his reasons. No, he needed to focus on the little sister he had hurt so deeply.

"I honestly don't know what to say other than I'm sorry . . . so sorry."

There was another sniffle and Paige brought her hand to her face, wiping at her eyes. "By the way, I'm not crying. . ."

A small smirk crept up David's cheek. "I didn't say you were. . . Didn't even hint at it."

"Well. . . Just in case you were wondering . . . thought I'd clear that up," she grumbled, wiping at her eyes again.

David chuckled softly. That was Paige—stubborn and strong to the end. His humor reverted to back to solemnity. "Hey. . ."

She turned her focus to him. "What?"

"Forgive me?"

She smiled softly, shaking her head. "You know it," she assured, her words now showing a trace of her usual spunk.

Squeezing her a bit to him, he rubbed her arm affectionately, happy to be on the road to reconciliation.

There was another small silence before Paige spoke once more. "Just so y'know, this doesn't mean I'm not still seriously pissed at you for being such a wanker."

"Oh Paige," David sighed, placing another kiss to the crown of her head, "don't say wanker. You're American, it just sounds strange when you do it."

Her elbow made swift contact with his ribs, and he grunted in slight pain. "Jerk," she grumbled.

"That's better," he chuckled before releasing his hold on her. "Now," he said as he stood and faced her, "I believe you have an address for me. . ."


As he stepped out of the cab, David took in the horrific site before him. Flames had engulfed the structure, their roar resounding into the night. The intense heat reached his skin, even though he was standing at a safe distance. Sirens wailed in the background, signaling the approaching reinforcements. A mixture of individuals were scattered around the area—former residents, press, hoards of firemen—their chatter and cries nearly drowned out by their surroundings.

Smoke reached David's lungs as he took a breath, rubbing his neck. Memories of covering such scenes filled his mind—memories and their accompanying emotions. He knew he had a job to do, but his reminiscing kept him frozen in place.

"C'mon, pal. . .Outta the way," a gruff voice behind him commanded.

Abruptly pulled from his thoughts, David turned his head toward the voice and was eye to eye with one of the plethora of fireman, a large hose weighing on his shoulder.

"Sorry," David apologized absentmindedly, taking several steps back and not paying any amount of attention to his direction. His back suddenly came into contact with a body, and he felt his foot press against something.

"Oww! Blimey. . .that bloody hurt!" an accented female voice sounded behind him.

Whirling around, he immediately saw a woman bent at the waist and examining her injury, her blonde hair obstructing her face.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you standing there. . . well, of course I didn't see you. I know I can be a bit daft at times, but I wouldn't knowingly trample you. . ."

The stranger giggled—the sound soft and melodic—and straightened her stance, finally allowing David to see her face and immediately halting him mid ramble.

"S'alright," she assured him with a blinding smile. "S'only my foot. I've got another one," she grinned, obviously finding humor in her little joke. "Now if you'd wrecked my heels, then we'd have a serious issue on our hands, and I'd be forced to retaliate with extreme measures."

David grinned back at her, tugging on his ear in surprising and an even more unexpected shyness. It wasn't every day that he was taken with a woman such as her—a young beautiful blonde with a radiant smile. And who just happened to be from London, if her accent was any indication. Something about that, now that he mulled it over, was unusual. Too much to be a coincidence.

His ponderings must have lasted a tad longer than was socially acceptable, because the blonde arched one of her dark brows upward in curiosity.

"Y'alright there, mate?"

"Uh, yeah," David cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes. Sorry. I must have spaced out for a moment. Paige says I tend to do that at times. Says it's annoying when she's trying to have a conversation with me. Can't say I blame her. Although, in my defense, it's very difficult to follow her at times, and I-. . ." David once again halted his nervous ramble, as a cheeky, amused smirk appeared the blonde's face. "I, uh," he cleared his throat again, "I'm David," he introduced himself, extending his hand in greeting.

"Rose," she responded, accepting his proffered hand and shaking it.

Now knowing her name, pieces clicked into place in David's mind. "Rose? You wouldn't happen to be a new reporter at The Centurion, would you?"

"Uh, yeah," Rose confirmed as she instinctually gripped her purse tighter to her side, the tone in her reply conveying just a hint of a guard. After all, they'd only just met. How could he have known about that recent development?

Suddenly realizing that his specific inquiry could have been unnerving, David quickly made to put her mind at ease. "I'm a columnist there, that's how I heard of you. Paige was regaling me with all your glory. Apparently, she's quite taken with you. I believe the words 'freaking awesome' were used."

The easy smile returned at hearing his explanation, and confirming that he wasn't some sort of stalker. "I dunno 'bout all that," Rose mildly blushed. "But she's something else. I had a blast chatting with her the other day. I'm looking forward to knowing her better."

David's smile widened as a swell of brotherly pride came over him. "She's rather brilliant, if I do say so myself."

The look in Rose's eyes changed, starting as thoughtful and then morphing into something akin to realization and, if David were to flatter himself, a small sliver of disappointment. "So. . .you two are. . .?"

Even though she had left her question open-ended, the inference was clearly understood. His eyes widened with mirth at the mere idea of him in a relationship with his spunky surrogate sister. He was just about to right the false impression, when the sound of screeching tires turned their focus away from each other, recalling both to mind just exactly where they were currently.

The screeching tires belonged to an aged cab, and they had no sooner stopped when the back passenger door flew open and a young, honey haired woman stumbled out and rushed towards the inferno, pushing through the crowd, screaming a name that neither David nor Rose could decipher. A few of the observers tried but failed to stop her. Their warning cries alerted a few of lesser-involved firemen, causing them to turn and block her path. Though she was a small woman, she showed impressive strength as she beat her fists and kicked against their soot stained uniforms, yet the men maintained their stronghold.

Suddenly, there was cracking boom and one of the upper floor windows exploded, smoke and flames rolling out and scattering glass shrapnel. Once again, the restrained woman screamed out a name at the top of her lungs before going limp in the men's burly arms. Standing on either side of her, effectively serving as her crutch, they carefully walked her over to one of the vacant ambulances, allowing the EMTs to take over the distraught woman's care, which in the frenzied bustle involved a blanket and tiny Styrofoam cup of water.

The intensity of the scene that had just transpired transfixed Rose, and she determinedly made her way towards the ambulance. As she neared the woman's side, Rose slowed her stride, hoping that she didn't appear aggressive in any way. Clearly, the woman was in a fragile state.

She was only a few steps away and she couldn't help but notice the slight shaking of the woman's shoulders. The blanket had begun to slide off her small frame, and Rose quickly closed the distance, pulling the stiff material back over her shoulders. The unexpected contact caused the young woman to jerk her head to the side. The grief in her red rimmed, bloodshot green eyes met the genuine concern in Rose's whiskey hued ones.

"I'm sorry," Rose apologized softly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

There was a vacancy in the woman's countenance, one that couldn't readily be pinpointed. All that Rose could register was that something was. . . missing. It was painful to observe. The woman sniffed and shifted her gaze to the asphalt.

"It's fine," she whispered. "I just didn't expect anyone to come back over here. Everybody's running around, trying to deal wi-. . ." Her words cracked with emotion and she halted her answer.

Though the woman couldn't see it, Rose nodded briefly in silent understanding and acknowledgment.

"I'm Rose, by the way," she introduced herself, taking a seat beside her in the rear of the ambulance.

"Georgia," the woman returned, her gaze still averted.

"'S a lovely name."

Georgia sniffled and shrugged. "My mom's way of keeping her Southern roots, I guess. It's fine, makes no difference to me. But, Jo-. . ." Her voice broke again, but she pushed on, "He loved it."

Carefully determining the best way to navigate through the highly emotionally wrought situation, Rose allowed a small silence hang between them before prodding further.

"You live here, then?"

The silence on Georgia's part continued for a bit longer, but Rose patiently waited for the young woman to find her voice, understanding how such a trauma could effect a person.

The woman shook her head. "No. . . Josh does. . . did. . ." Georgia answered, her voice weakening with each passing word. "No one. . . They c-can't. . . they can't find h-him. . . I can't find him."

The sobs that she had valiantly withheld became too much for her to contain, and Georgia let loose her agonizing grief. Rose, overcome with compassion, put her arm around the trembling woman and pulled her close, allowing Georgia's tears and soot scent to stain her clothes. There were no more questions asked while she wept, only comfort imparted. After several moments, neither were certain of the exact time that actually had passed, Georgia righted her posture and used the irritant material to dry her face.

"Sorry. I don't even know you from Adam and here I just drenched your shirt with tears and snot."

"Please don't apologize. Know me or not, you needed to let that all out. Bugger the rest."

For the first time since their introduction, Georgia turned her eyes to meet Rose's. She let out the faintest of chuckles.

"Your accent. . . Joshua was borderline obsessed with British TV. I think you woulda made his year."

Rose grinned before her expression turned slightly somber. "Joshua is. . . or, rather, was. . . your. . .?"

"Boyfriend," Georgia nodded, twisting the ends of the blanket between her fingers. "But I think he was gonna propose soon. He got really secretive the last couple of weeks. But I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. 'Cause when I talked to him tonight. . . something was. . . off. He just. . . he didn't seem like himself."

"Did he say what was bothering him? Or hint at it?"

"No. . ." Georgia shook her head. "I asked him. Told him I would come over. But he said he'd had a long day at work. That he was tired and gonna call it an early night. Maybe if I just bugged him a little more, just showed up at his place, maybe I. . ."

"You could've been in that blaze too," Rose tried to point out, squeezing her hand.

"Better in there by his side than being out here without him," Georgia countered softly, complete resoluteness to her words.

There was no response that Rose could give to that. By her words, it was evident that Georgia was deeply in love with this Joshua, yet Rose couldn't adequately comprehend the sentiment. She'd never felt that sort of unswerving love for someone, where going down with them was better than going on without them. So how could she rightly chastise her for such a statement?

"Something isn't right," Georgia spoke up suddenly, staring ahead unfocusedly, as if trying to assemble pieces of a puzzle.

"What do you think it was?"

"I dunno," she shrugged before running her hand through her dingy hair. "Maybe it's just me making more outta something than what's there. I just wanna know how this thing happened," she finished, gesturing to the now contained blaze, a few stray tears trailing her cheeks. "I mean, c'mon. It's not like this is the ghetto. So, what? Did someone fall asleep with a cig and the sprinklers not work? The building manager was always on top of things. Everything was always in working order. I don't get it. . . I just. . . don't."

Rose's heart went out to the woman and she squeezed her hand again. "I'll find it out."

A harsh sort of chuckle left Georgia. "How's that?"

"I'm an investigative reporter, it's what I do."

There was a flash of anger in Georgia's eyes as she scooted somewhat away from Rose. "Well, that's just great. I just spent the past several minutes blabbing to a woman who I thought was just a kind stranger, but who actually turns out to be a freaking reporter! So, lemme guess—you wanted to get a leg up on the story and just picked the first pathetic sap you could find to pull info outta them?"

Rose saw the grief stricken woman building with anger and quickly spoke up before she could begin again. "No! Not at all, I swear. I'm not one to stoop to that sorta level, and I most certainly would never take advantage of you like that!"

The tension seemed to ease off as Georgia studied Rose, her eyes making a hard and thorough examination of her sincerity.

"The only reason I mentioned it was 'cause I wanted you to know that I could help you. That I know how to. That's all."

After searching her eyes for one more long moment, Georgia came to the conclusion that Rose could be trusted.

"Alright," she acquiesced with a nod. "Do you have a card or something?"

"Not yet," Rose replied as she began digging through her purse. "But. . .here," she pulled out a pen and small piece of paper, scribbling her set of digits and handing it to Georgia. "This is my number. Call me in the morning after you've gotten some sleep. M'kay?"

"Okay. . ." Georgia agreed, pocketing the paper just as her own mobile sounded. The trembling of her fingers had subsided considerably, allowing her to easily access it. Glancing down at the screen, she looked back up at Rose, a small grimace appearing on her face. "This is, uh. . . this is Josh's mom. She lives in Philly, so she. . . she doesn't know 'bout. . ." her words trailed off as her eyes focused on the diminishing fire. "I need to take this."

"Of course," Rose acknowledged, giving the young woman's hand a final squeeze before rising to her feet and giving her the needed privacy.

As she walked away from the scene, she began to sort and catalogue the details she'd observed and the information inquired. She had only walked a few yards when a recognizable voice called to her.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

Her steps halted. Rose turned towards the voice and saw David closing the distance between them, his hands stuffed in his suit trouser pockets. Her brow furrowed at his words, confused as to his meaning.

"Pardon?"

"What you said to, uh, Georgia was it? Wasn't the best move."

If possible, Rose's brows furrowed closer together and she felt a slow, simmering heat in her veins. But, instead of being forthrightly confrontational, she held her tongue and gave him another opportunity to prove her assumption wrong.

"I said a lotta things to her, so you'll have to be more specific." Her hand slowly made its way to her hip, her stance now challenging.

David's brow quirked briefly, conveying slight annoyance at her altered manner. "You promised her that you'd find out what happened to her boyfriend, how this all started," he gestured to the resolving chaos, "That's not a promise you're likely to keep."

That simmering anger of Rose's was quickly gaining heat. "And just what makes y'think I can't keep it? That's awfully presumptuous of ya to assume I can't follow through. 'Specially since y'don't know anythin' about me or what I can do."

"I may not know you, but that doesn't change the fact that you made thoughtless mistake. It's presumptuous to make promises that you can give her answers. You have no way of guaranteeing that. You're basically giving a traumatized woman false hope."

"I don't make empty promises, and I don't believe in false hope," Rose retorted.

David couldn't help but softly sniff and the smallest of grins tugged at his lips. "While that's a lovely sentiment, and truly it is, it's also unfortunately naïve. Sometimes things happen—tragic things, even—and though you want to, you can't always make things better. There's not always closure. That's life."

Rose felt her jaw tighten as his words fully ignited her fury. "No, that's throwin' in the towel, and viewing the world as a cynical wanker," she seethed. "Y'don't just give up 'cause it's easiest. Ya take a stand. Ya fight for those who need your help. Good, bad, or ugly, you keep going. An' nothin' 'bout that's naïve," she bit out, her offense at his words abundantly evident.

A fury of his own sparked at Rose's verbal attack. "There's no need for you t-. . ."

"Wha'?" she snapped "Call ya out for being an arrogant git?"

"No," David slightly growled. "There's no need for you to be so bloody combative. I was onl-. . ."

"Listen," Rose irritably cut him off again, "I'm done with this. I've got things to do, and none of them involve a back and forth with you. So, I'm gonna leave, and you can go on spreading your cheer by euthanizing puppies or whatever it is y'do in your spare time."

Without another word, Rose swiftly turned on her heel and marched off in a fury, leaving a slack jawed and fuming David in her wake.