After a little delay(sorry for thatbtw!) I am back with a new chapter. I think you will recognize the timeline kind of. Let me know if ya do:)

Without too much babbling(I really got to get back to crafting christmas presents again!), here comes the third chapter! Have fun:)

Chapter 3

Four years later…

Liz was standing at the foot of the staircase, tapping her foot in annoyance. Santa was dutifully standing right next to her and observing Sam playing around with the newly bought Christmas tree.

"Dad, I've told you that it is dangerous to put those candles on the tree. Please just get some lights or something. Like normal people do." Nervousness was swinging in her tone, while she started to twirl a lock of hair around her finger.

"Nothing can happen, butterball. Those are extra safe candle holders, specially made for Christmas trees. Now come on over and help me decorate."

"I'd prefer not to." She whispered and turned around to go upstairs but Sam calling her name stopped her.

"You'll have to overcome the fear someday, sweetheart."

"Yeah…" she sighed. "But not today. Not like this."

"Fire isn't a bad thing." Sam continued as if he didn't hear her. "As long as you are careful and never forget what it can do."

"How could I forget?" Liz asked, tapping the dog slightly, giving him the commando to follow her, and vanished up the stairs.

Sam breathed in heavily and stared at the halfway-decorated tree. He knew that Liz was terribly afraid of fire, but he thought that since she was refusing any kind of therapy, he would take matters in his own hands. His method may have been a bit brutal, but he didn't see any other way to help her anymore. With thoughts racing through his head, Sam continued decorating the tree and when he finished an hour later, Liz had still not shown up again. Glancing at the clock, he brushed of needles still sticking to his hands and made his way up the stairs.

"Lizzie?"

Knocking at the door, he called again and finally opened it, to find Liz sitting on the bed and reading.

"You want to come for a walk? Santa has to get out. His bladder isn't what it once used to be."

Liz shook her head, no and didn't answer.

Still mad, Sam thought. "Well, I'll let him out for a moment and then I will go to Mrs. Sykes. She has some problems with the toilet and asked me to take a look. You should come. She always has some cookies laying around."

Not receiving an answer, Sam called for Santa.

"C'mon boy, let's go for a walk and let Lizzie sulk alone."

The dog followed him immediately, slowly and carefully taking one step after the other. With nine years he wasn't that old yet, but it seemed that rheumatism and asthma were taking its toll on him and with that came a bunch of other health problems. Liz was taking care of him lovingly and as food as she could, but there was just that much that a human being could do for a dog. Letting the dog out, Sam walked up to the tree and started to blow out the candles, but when he had only five left, Liz called from upstairs.

"Dad? Did you leave already?"

The man smiled warmly when he heard his daughter's voice.

"Nope. I'm still here. Only Santa is taking a leak outside."

He walked back to the stairs and looked up, seeing Liz standing already clothed in a coat.

"Changed your mind?"

"I guess so."

"Why? Was it the cookie calling you?""

"Do I need a reason?"

Sam shook his head amusedly and waved her to him.

"Well, c'mon then. I don't want to leave Mrs. Sykes waiting for too long."

Slandering down the stairs, Liz laughed out loud.

"Ha! As if she would ever tire of waiting for you."

With one hand Sam was opening the door and the other slipping into his coat.

"That wasn't nice, Lizzie. And besides, how would you know?"

Liz grinned at him cheekily.

"That's a woman thing…you wouldn't understand."

"Instead of smart mouthing, call that monster of yours. He never listens when I want to get him inside."

"You just don't have the touch."

Liz called for Santa and within seconds, the dog trotted through the door and Liz gave her father a proud and impish grin.

"Alright, let's go." He huffed, but smiled while closing and locking the door.

One hour later…

"Mrs. Sykes really makes delicious cookies. Now I know why you are helping her that often."

"Don't get cheeky, Lizzie. I am helping her because she is a sweet lady who has lost her husband quiet early."

"Right."

They were walking down the road in direction of the house and Liz was slightly out of breath, but enjoying to see her breath turn white and curl around itself like a giant ball of smoke in front of her eyes. Her fingers were numb and she tried to hide them in her pockets. Automatically her fingers closed around her keys. She had never known what to do with her hands and she took every opportunity to grasp something. People thought it was a nervous tick, and most of the time they were right, but even if she was relaxed and perfectly happy, she didn't like to have useless and empty hands. So the habit of stroking her scar had developed naturally over the course of the years. It was much easier than frantically clinging to a pen or someone's hand. And certainly less embarrassing than all other options.

Her nose suddenly tickled, making her sniff and her eyes water. A sudden sneeze tore her from her thoughts.

"Bless you. Getting a cold, after all? Told you not to wear this thin coat."

"It's not a cold." Liz argued and sniffed again. "Do you smell that?"

Suddenly she stopped, rooted to the pebbled path and gasped.

"It's smoke."

"What?"

Liz took off without another word of explanation, letting Sam try to catch up with her.

"No!" his daughters first terrified wail froze the blood in Sam's veins. His eyes searched around and when he finally rounded the corner, he had to stop in order not to fall flat on his face.

Smoke was coming from under their houses door and he could see a red shimmer through the kitchen window.

"Oh god." he breathed, not believing what he was seeing.

Meanwhile Liz was gaping at the smoking house and felt numb. Flashes of fire and burning dolls rained open her inner eye and she could smell the sickening odor of burning flesh. Oh god, please not again, she pleaded silently, closing her eyes, just to snap them open when a faint barking met her ears.

"Santa!" her scream pierced the air and Sam was almost unable to restrain her when she suddenly lurched forward.

"Lizzie, no. You can't go in there."

She struggled, she kicked, she screamed and when a flailing punch caught him at his cheek and stunned him, Liz pushed his hands off of her and stumbled, still screaming the dog's name, to the door. Within seconds, she had unlocked the door and opened it, releasing a dark cloud of smoke and coughing while storming in.

"Oh god, Lizzie. Come out!" Sam yelled, already hearing sirens in the distance. Obviously, a neighbor had called for help. He could hear his daughter yelling for the dog and after only a second of hesitation, he ran after her.

"Elizabeth, answer me. Where are you?"

At first, there was no answer and Sam felt the panic spreading through his system. Besides the hot air around him, making him sweat and cough, the hotness from inside was starting to burn his heart first. He couldn't lose her. She had become his world.

"Dad!" her scream shook him out of the panic and his legs started to move. The scream had come from the far end of the house, where his bedroom was situated. Rushing into the room, he immediately saw Liz kneeling on the floor and pulling on Santa's collar. The dog was half lying and half sitting there, wheezing and not moving an inch.

"He doesn't want to come, Dad. Do something!" Sam could see that Liz was crying uncontrollably and his heart constricted even more. The situation was not looking good. Making a decision, Sam hurried to his daughter and simply picked the dog up. It wasn't easy but adrenaline gave him strength to carry the heavy dog out of the room and the house.

He was acutely aware of Liz following him and he breathed in relief when they reached the front door. When Liz attempted to open it, she hissed in pain, but didn't pull her hand back. Sam glanced at her but would worry about it later. Right now, the most important thing was to get out of the house.

The moment they stepped out, they saw firefighters getting out of their truck and preparing their hoses. Putting the dog down, Sam turned to Liz, standing right behind him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Her whisper wasn't very convincing, but Sam let it slip for now, watching her sit on the ground next to her beloved dog.

"You're gonna be ok, Santa." She repeated that over and over again, trying to convince herself of it. But she didn't succeed. Santa was breathing heavily, lying on the ground now and closing his eyes tightly from time to time.

"Dad…he's gonna be ok, right?"

Sam didn't answer. It wasn't a habit to lie to his daughter and he didn't want to make it one. So he just knelt down and brushed his hand over her hair in an attempted to give her some kind of comfort.

Two weeks later…

The house was silent, except for the crackling of the fireplace. Sam was sitting in front of it and staring into the flames. It was Christmas morning and the cold was seeping through every pore of the house, so that he had decided to make a fire and since Liz wasn't coming down, it wouldn't frighten her. When the telephone rang, Sam stood up like in a daze and breathed a quiet "Hello?" into it.

"Merry Christmas, my friend."

The gruff voice on the other side, made Sam's insides turn in guilt.

"It's not very merry, Raymond."

The little pause showed Sam that Red was taken aback and made him realize that Red wasn't always as well informed as he seemed.

"What happened?" the question was loaded and the happy sound in Red's voice had vanished.

"There was a fire." No need to lie or beat around the bush. The man waiting for an answer wouldn't have any problem to look through him like glass and if necessary find out on his own what had happened. When no comment was forthcoming, Sam continued.

"We had to put the dog down." Sam couldn't say the name out loud. It was as if something was holding him back. Maybe the guilt that had refused to lift from his mind.

"What happened?" Red repeated, now with a low, dangerously calm undertone.

"I left candles burning on the Christmas tree. The dog was alone at home. We don't know how it happened exactly, but the curtains caught fire."

"How big is the damage on the house?"

"Not that big. We got back before the fire could get too big. Only the smoke was extensive. He had asthma and the inhalation of the smoke…"

"How is Lizzie?"

"I can't even describe it."

"Try it!" Red snapped. A shiver ran down Sam's back and he coughed to clear his throat.

"She is…disturbed. She isn't coming downstairs. She is blaming me."

"Why?"

"She told me not to light up the candles. She was nervous about them, but I thought it would maybe help her get over the fear of fire." Sam snorted at himself. "She doesn't want to talk to me. The only thing she said was that she hated Christmas."

Sam could hear a sigh over the phone and rubbed his eyes with the other hand.

"I am sorry, Ray. It was my fault. I failed."

"You didn't fail." Red's hoarse voice tried to sooth. "You made a mistake. A grave one but it was a mistake. Everyone does that from time to time."

"What shall I do now? She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. She's mourning. She'll forgive you."

"I killed the only thing she had left of her early childhood. She has no remembrance of that time, not even someone to ask about it, since I am always answering with an "I don't really remember". The only thing her subconscious hasn't blocked out has been this damn dog."

"She will forgive you. She loves you."

Sighing heavily, Sam let himself fall on a chair.

"I hope to god you are right."

"I have to go now." Red told him.

"Thanks for the call, Ray. And for what it's worth, I am sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just try to fix it." Red paused and then added, "Take care."

With that, the line went dead and Sam was once again left alone with his own thoughts.

The next day rolled in slowly, waking Liz only when a car honked too loudly. Instinctively, her hand reached next to her bed where Santa had always slept, just to be reminded of the fact that he wasn't there anymore. That he never would be again.

Throwing back her covers, Liz stretched and opened her door to trot down the stairs and get something to drink. Just when she reached the bottom, something white caught her eye, lying on the floor before the door.

Looking around to make sure that Sam was still asleep, she walked over to the envelope and crouched down to gather it into her hands. Turning it around, she noticed her name scribbled on it. She frowned deeply, but opened the envelope anyway. Out came a letter and a photograph of her and Santa, playing in the snow a few years ago. Immediately tears sprang to her eyes and she had to gulp hard to not let them fall. Her eyes drifted back to the letter and she started to read.

My dear Lizzie,

I've heard from your father, that you have lost a dear friend of yours. I know you might not believe me right now, but I do know how that feels. The pain is excruciating and the mere thought of living the rest of your live without him is more than torture.

I can't tell you that the pain will go away and if someone does tell you so, believe me, he is lying or has no idea what he is talking about. But what I can tell you, is that the pain will get less suffocating and you will be able to remember all the good times you had with him. You will learn to laugh about moments with him that now seem to be so far away and so painful that you would love to forget them.

You need to heal and in order to do so, you need to talk. Please promise me that you won't make the same mistake as I did and end as a bitter and angry person. Talk to your dad. He is sick with worry and plagued by guilt.

I am terribly sorry for your loss, sweetheart, but never forget that the ones you love will never leave you completely. A part of them will live in you. Forever.

Sincerely and with the best wishes for you

R.

Liz was choking on her sobs when she got to the end of the letter. She had no idea who had written that, but since it was someone his father knew, she could trust the fact that it was a good soul trying to help. Folding the piece of paper neatly, she put it on the table beside her and slowly walked to her father's bedroom. With a timid knock, she announced her presence and upon hearing a soft "come in." she opened the door, coming to a halt in the door frame.

"Butterball? What up?" Sam got himself into a sitting position, watching his daughter out of sleepy eyes.

"I hurt, Dad."

For a split second, Sam felt panic again, and he mustered her from head to toe but then he noticed the look in her eyes. The posture of her body and the way she was clutching a picture in her bandaged hand.

"Oh baby…come here."

His arms opened and the girl was in them in seconds, crying into her father's shoulder and taking in his soothing warmth.

Everything would be alright. Eventually.

tbc...

What ya think?:) I'd love to hear from ya!:)