While telling the story, if each eyelash does not drip with blood
You're not telling a love story, but a tale made for the kids

"There's nothing we can do anymore."

Just as the flames were slowly destroying the warehouse, Taggert's words destroyed Carly. The tall detective stood helplessly, beaten and weary from the combat, as the shivering blonde stared up at him in disbelief. Her body, tired and abused under the maddening assault of immediate grief, gave way to tears in shudders, and Taggert looked away with shame as the woman crumpled to the ground.

Elizabeth wanted to help, she wanted to assist the fallen blonde, but her own limbs were locked in place as she herself fought to comprehend what Taggert had said. What did he mean?…He couldn't be saying that…

Lucky appeared at her side just then, holding the roses that she had handed to him when Carly had broken down before, but Elizabeth barely noticed his presence. "Taggert – what are you saying? What about the hydrant?-You guys just got it working!"

The lieutenant shook his head sadly. When he spoke, his voice was tight and thick. "It's not doing enough. Ideally, we want several hydrants positioned around the warehouse, but they're frozen. We've been working to get them functioning again, but…" He turned slowly, as if his limbs were feeling age for the first time, and gazed forlornly at the defiant flames. "The water pressure is making it collapse even faster. We're targeting specific areas, but…we've got to be prepared for the worst."

Carly looked up then with murder in her eyes as his quiet words hit her like a ton of bricks. Elizabeth was still paralyzed in place as the tall blonde launched herself up from the pavement and directly at the lieutenant. "Liar! You monster! What did you do? Why didn't it work? This is all your fault, Taggert! ALL YOUR FAULT!"

To his credit, Taggert didn't push her away or even reply to her bitter accusations, each one torn straight from her soul as she hit and scratched at him. Instead, he gently put his hands on her shoulder and stepped away, untangling himself from her tearing grip, and when he was certain she'd be able to stand, he let go and silently walked away.

"Damn," Lucky muttered, rubbing his freezing hands together. "No one knows anything." His cold topaz eyes scanned the scene quickly, falling on the police commissioner. "Whoa – there's Max," he said, absently shoving the roses back into Elizabeth's arms. "I'm going to go see if he knows anything."

Elizabeth was still watching Carly as her boyfriend left. The woman was trembling visibly, her body convulsing violently as she choked hard on her sobs. It just couldn't be happening…a couple hours ago, Jason was tucked safely away from the dangers of the world in her studio. They were talking, she was giving him the fudge she'd made, he was giving her that red glass…

Terrified, Elizabeth's hand instantly darted to the pocket of her jeans. Oh, please, God, it has to be here… Relief flooded through her when she found the slick glass object. Her fingers closed tightly and protectively around it. Come what may, she'd always hold that piece of glass with her; she'd guard it as fiercely as she had guarded Jason that winter he'd been shot.

Her gaze drifted back to the warehouse, hopelessly following the curls of dense, dirty smoke as they climbed high and assimilated into the crisp night sky. The stars still twinkled back, and the merry little sight brought tears to her eyes. She thought she was going to be sick. It was so wrong…this was so wrong. Jason couldn't be trapped in that burning building…this wasn't how she wanted it to end, damn it!

She had so much she still wanted to say to him; so much she still had to say to him. This couldn't be how it all ended – that would be too cruel. They still had so much to talk about. "Get out of there, Morgan," she whispered to the stars. "You were always so great at listening – listen to me now and get out of there. There's so much you need to hear and I…" Her voice broke, fresh tears racing down her pale cheeks as a slight wave of vertigo washed over her again. "I need you to get out of there, Morgan."

The thorns on the long-stemmed flowers pricked her fingers, and though the pain raced acutely through her, it felt dull to Elizabeth. And just because she wanted to feel something, she purposely pricked her soft fingers again, searching for that same dull pain.

Carly had curled into a little ball, hugging her knees to her chest as she wept. Thoughts of Michael, thoughts of their last Christmas together as a family inundated her; incredible guilt washed over her as she remembered how she had been happy that Sonny was at the warehouse so that she could enjoy her damn pizza. She'd never eat pizza again. And she'd never listen to Madonna again, either. From now on, it was all Latin instrumentals and the Godfather soundtrack.

She felt Elizabeth trudge up a few steps closer, standing behind her, but wasn't about to turn to the young woman again. Right now, all she wanted was to sit alone in front of the blazing inferno that had devoured her husband and her best friend. Her nails bit into the palms of her hand, drawing blood from tiny half-moon cuts, but Carly didn't even notice. The pain inside was far more palpable than the stinging in her hands.

Lucky chose that moment to walk back, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He frowned when Elizabeth didn't look up when he found her side, but shook it off. "Mac was a bit more optimistic than Taggert – he says they're doing everything they can to target the flames without causing the building to collapse."

He saw her swallow thickly, still staring desperately out at the blaze for any signs of the two men inside. "But he did say that things weren't looking so good."

Elizabeth closed her eyes at that, wanting more than anything for Lucky to be quiet. Another wave of nausea washed over her, causing her stomach to roll and her head to feel light.

"It's kinda funny, though." Lucky's voice cut through her attempt to fight off illness as the boy stared hard at the warehouse. "Jason just got back into town and already something's happened. I guess that's just what happens when you kill for a living – you go the same way."

Elizabeth turned for the first time and stared hard at his stern profile, this time knowing that she was going to be sick.


"Sonny! Sonny!"

Sonny Corinthos struggled to rouse himself, to find some semblance of consciousness as he lay trapped beneath a heavy wooden beam. "J-Jason?"

"Sonny!"

It really was Jason. His heart leapt into his throat; his best friend had come to help him. Shaking his head briskly, Sonny had to hold his breath when white-hot pain shot through his body. As it slowly alleviated, he tested his voice, calling out to his partner. "Jason! Jason, I'm in h-here! Jason!"

Like Hercules ascending from Hell, Jason Morgan appeared from behind a curtain of dirty smoke. He was dirty and bruised, covered with glass and a sprinkling of cuts, but he was there. And Sonny had never been so glad to see him.

"Sonny!" Jason quickly scanned a gaze around the room, looking for the safest route to his friend. Furniture, glass, beams, and plaster were everywhere, and Jason minced across the debris to his fallen friend. A heavy oak rafter was pinning him to the floor, and Jason worked quickly to move it. "Come on, man, you've gotta help me here," he coaxed his best friend, afraid that the man would lapse into unconsciousness once more.

Sonny grunted and untangled his arms to help push the rafter away. His suit sleeves were ripped and blackened, and he had cuts on his hands and head, and most likely some sort of concussion. Jason strained away at the wooden beam, sweating from exertion and the flames that licked the building. It took every last bit of his strength to persuade the rafter to budge, and slowly, he moved it an inch. And then another. Sonny squirmed, finding better leverage to assist his friend and together they pushed again, slowly moving the beam and relieving the pressure on Sonny's lower limbs.

With a grunt, Jason repositioned his hands under the beam and lifted, his muscles quivering and threatening to buckle under the exertion. Thankfully, the beam moved just enough off his friend to enable Sonny to crawl out from under it like a crab, wincing painfully from the movement. As soon as he was out, Jason let the beam fall with a crash, his legs trembling from the great burden. As he caught his breath and calmed his mind, Sonny was testing his legs.

"You okay?" Jason wheezed, coughing against the smoke. "You think you can walk?"

"I-I think so," Sonny choked back, using a fallen desk to hoist himself up. He hissed painfully when his legs accepted his weight, and then Jason was at his side, lifting one of his arms over his own head and wrapping the other around his waist. Sonny took a deep breath and let Jason help him up completely and together they moved for the door.

The warehouse creaked as it slowly but surely succumbed to the flames, and Jason knew there wasn't much time left.

"Come on, Sonny, we're getting outta here."

The older man grunted and wheezed, hoping he hadn't just sentenced his best friend to a premature death as well.


She couldn't believe him. She could not believe that Lucky Spencer had stood there and announced right in front of her and Carly that Jason and Sonny deserved what they got for the lifestyle they had lead. She wouldn't blame him entirely if that was how he really felt, but common decency and common sense, on top of that, dictated that such views be kept to oneself at the moment, and especially in front of the likely bereaved widow.

He turned to look at her then, his eyes cold and blank, and was surprised by the intensity of her glare. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he offered here one simple word. "What?"

Elizabeth's heart thudded painfully in her chest as she stared back at him, her mouth set tight. With a small shake of her head, she turned her face away in disgust and stepped forward. The thorns from the roses pricked her fingers once more but this time she didn't feel it at all.

In front of her, Carly was slowly pulling herself together. Hands spread on the pavement, the blonde was doing her best to push herself up off the ground. After a few tries, her shaky legs finally held her weight and she stood slowly, wobbling and still trembling. Her hair was down and in her face, sticking to her mouth and the slick paths of her tears, and her skin was pale and dry. Smoke had smudged her face and dulled the bright color of her turquoise coat and she gingerly brushed herself off before wrapping her arms around her waist, hugging herself tightly and trying to quell her shivering.

She didn't even spare the burning building a glance; she just couldn't bear it. Keeping her gaze glued to the pavement, Carly did her best to keep her balance. She wasn't even sure at this point if it had all sunk in yet; the fact that Sonny was…gone just didn't register. Just this morning they had woken up in bed together and made love in the shower, and then they had argued when she'd tried to give Michael a Pop-Tart for breakfast, and she wound up throwing a coaster at his head while he cooked her son a "proper breakfast".

All that, it couldn't just be…gone.

Scuffed footsteps had her turning, and her own raw eyes met Elizabeth's wide red-rimmed ones. Time seemed to stop again as the two women, now both weary and desolate, stared at each other, wondering who would make the first move or if there was even a move to make. Elizabeth looked away, blinking her tears back, and Carly's gaze drifted down to the brunette's hands. In her arms she held an oversized bouquet of red roses. In her right hand, she thought she saw something red sparkle.

A chorus of yells, loud, disjointed, broken but joyful, brought her from her surreal musings and both Elizabeth and Carly whipped around to see what the commotion was for. The firefighters and officers alike had catapulted into activity, beckoning forth paramedics who were frantically setting up their equipment and as the sea of bodies cleared, Carly saw why.

Sonny and Jason had emerged from the building.

Blackened with smoke, wheezing, bruised and cut and barely able to stand up – but still, there they were.

Carly's heart jumped to her throat and the sigh of joy and relief that escaped her nearly sucked the wind out of her body. Her tired eyes, abused from the smoke and the heat and the frigid winter air, squinted at the scene as she made sure she wasn't seeing things.

But there they were – her husband and her best friend.

She took one step forward, then another step, wobbling slightly as she extended her arms. Sonny's arm was around Jason's neck and he leaned forward when his best friend let him go, trying to stand on his own two feet. A choked sob escaped Carly's lips and Sonny's obsidian eyes flew up to hers. Biting back the pain, he slowly forced himself upright and held out his hands.

And then she was in his arms. He almost didn't mind the pain as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly behind his neck and sobbing into his chest. Sucking in a deep breath that sounded more like a hiss of pain, Sonny held her close and buried his face in her tawny mane. The cries of the officers and firefighters and EMTs all began to blend into the background as the two held each other in front of the roaring blaze.

Jason's knees had buckled beneath him as soon as he let Sonny go. He didn't realize it, but his best friend had been holding him up just as much as Jason had been holding the older mobster up. He felt an officer try to brace his fall as he hit the pavement, and Jason thought he'd hack up a lung as he tried to clear his throat of the burning smoke.

Finally, when he felt he could breathe, he felt his gaze unconsciously lifting. And there, in the smoke and the haze and the flurry of activity stood the woman he'd been with not two hours ago. There, dressed in a black coat with her vivid red shirt plainly visible underneath, her pale face smudged with smoke and a bunch of white roses in her arms, stood Elizabeth.

The light from the fire as it gurgled under the spray of water made her skin glow like an angel, and Jason's heart almost stopped when he looked into her eyes. They were wide and fearful, but he could see something else shining there in the sapphire depths. Relief. Awe. Heartbreak. Longing. He recognized the myriad of feelings as the ones that he was certain were plainly visible in his own eyes.

Still crouched on the ground, an officer poised behind him to help him to his feet when he decided to rise, Jason Morgan couldn't breathe. And this time, it had nothing to do with the smoke.

A few paces away, Elizabeth's heart constricted painfully in her chest. He was here. He was out. He was safe. Oh, thank God, Jason was safe. Her fingers tightened around the glass as she watched him, wanting nothing more than to run into his arms and burrow into his strong chest and just hold him for hours. She wanted to touch him, feel his wild untamed spikes when she ran her hands through his hair, wanted to smell the buttery leather of his jacket and his manly scent of soap and pine trees. And the wind. He always smelled like the wind.

But her limbs were locked in place as Jason's eyes rose to meet her own. She wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes – in some sense, she was afraid of what she saw there. She saw in his eyes the same thing that she felt. The longing, the angst, the relief. The way he was looking at her made her want to sink to the pavement and weep. But she was paralyzed in place with the fear of those feelings. She shouldn't be feeling this way.

But as Carly wept in Sonny's arms not too far away, Elizabeth didn't care. She felt what she felt, and she had tried to fight it for too long. And that had almost cost her everything.

And she didn't want to lose any more.

She blinked her eyes free of tears and really looked at him. Officials were running around, the fire was fighting bitterly against the spray of water, the paramedics were moving in, and Jason stood right in the thick of it. And yet he only had eyes for her.

Elizabeth had only to blink to recognize that unnamed emotion swirling in the depths of his red-rimmed, piercing cerulean orbs. She stumbled back a step when it hit her, the realization taking her breath away.

Passion.

Her heart hurtled itself against her ribs, recoiling upon impact only to hurtle itself forth once more, and Elizabeth felt her limbs grow weak. The rest of the world faded away as she focused numbly on Jason, who had yet to move. Deftly, she was aware of the mêlée in the background, but none of it really registered as that light-headed feeling swept over her once more.

Her hands, closed so firmly around the bouquet, began to tremble under the heat of his longing gaze. She knew what he wanted. She thought she wanted it, too. And just like that, her world began to swim before her eyes. The roses sagged as her hands relaxed their tenacious grip, and that was the breaking of the dam. Her fingers slipped from their interlocked twine, her hands falling limply to her sides as the roses slipped past, snagging on her coat before crashing in a jumbled mess of white petals and thorns on the cold, wet, black pavement.

And when the roses fell, so did she.

Your hesitation indicates that the thread you had tied is weak;
You would never have broken the thread had it been strong.