Hello everyone.

I'm back. And no, I haven't abandoned this story. Finals happened. And well... "Welcome to Finals, may the odds be ever in your favour." Turns out they weren't. Anyway.

Here is it, the next chapter. As always I thank batwings79 for betaing. You're the best beta, one could wish for. And thank you to all of you who reviewed. I love reading your thoughts on what I write.

Disclaimer: Blablablubblub... Let's say, this is my continuation of a storyline that is totally not mine.

Right… Left... Right… Left… Right, through the flame, pause… Left, through the flame, pause… Right, flame…pain, out of the flame, pause… Left, flame … pain, pause… pause… pause

Stop it! Out of the flame!

I looked at my right hand. It stung. Judging by the angry red mark on it, it would continue to do so. I took another sip from the bottle I had placed on the floor beside me, before I tried to get up to get some cold water for my burned skin. The doctor inside me told me, that it would be the right thing to do. Cooling it would prevent it from forming too many blisters. I knew that I should do it.

Later.

My left hand instead.

Right… Left… Right… Left… Right, through the flame, pause… Left, through the flame…

I woke up to find the sun shining in through the window. My head ached. Never before in all my life, had I experienced such a headache. An insistent pounding had taken up residence in my temples, as though something was trying to break my skin from the inside out. My eyes were burning and seemed as though they were suddenly too big for my skull. And my forehead, I couldn't remember having run against a wall, but it sure felt like it.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I leaned back, expecting to feel the back of the settee against the back of my head. Instead my neck cracked as my throat stretched before my head was finally met with some resistance. I groaned. The sofa cushions? I cracked one eye open; I was indeed sitting on the floor.

My other eye opened as well. It was a mess, bottles strewn about, parts of my clothes lying scattered on the ground. I spotted my best waistcoat carelessly thrown into a heap on the floor. By the look of it, I must have stepped on it multiple times. I couldn't remember.

Slowly, I put my right hand to the carpet to push myself up. Pain shot through my whole arm and I immediately pulled my hand back to inspect it. Blisters? I had burned myself? When? How? I didn't need to wonder long. Next to me - upset, dried wax staining the rug - lay a candlestick. The candle was burned down completely. I couldn't recall having used it recently.

What day was it, anyway? Tuesday? No, that couldn't be. The we...the wedd...the wedding – I winced – had been on Sunday. And I had come back here and then...and then? How long had I been sitting here?

Again, I groaned. She had gotten married. She had finally married him. And she had looked so happy, so beautiful. And I had wanted her. I had wanted to be the man next to her. I would have made her just as happy, she would have looked just as beautiful, maybe even more so. But then again, why was I trying to fool myself with these notions? She could never look more beautiful than she had in that moment, I would never be the man next to her and I wanted her just as much now, if not more, as I did on that day.

The realization hit me once more, that he had made her smile like that. Maybe she did love him. Maybe he was right for her. But where did that leave me? What was I to do?

Defeated. That's how I felt. I had lost, he had won, without even knowing that there had been a battle going on. But had it? No. No, for a battle to take place, the opponents should be in some sense equally equipped. Otherwise it was a farce. I was a farce...my love for her was a farce...she would never have chosen me.

Every muscle in my body tensed, as a pain, more intense than my headache, more severe than the sting from my burned hand, washed over me. Inside my head I cried out in anguish. Outside of it, I couldn't. Not anymore.

My muscles finally relaxed again, causing my left hand to slip from my lap where it had been lying the whole time and to make contact with glass.

Alcohol. Yes. Forget again, if only for a few hours...a few hours...or a few days...

Up. Slowly! Right foot on the floor… yes. Yes, that's right. And now straighten the knee. Careful! Slowly! Hand on the settee. Push. Yes. Yes, that's it. Stand. Everything's turning. Why is everything turning? Deep breaths. Close your eyes. No! No, it's even worse! Open them again. Yes. That's better.

Now walk. One foot in front of the other. Right foot off the floor, move it forwards, back down to the ground. Now left. Left foot off the floor, move it forwards, back down to the ground. If only the turning would stop!

Careful now! There's something on the floor. My waistcoat? Don't step on it. Don't step on it. Don't – back down to the ground. The ground, oh no. Waistcoat. It had been ruined anyway. Don't slip on it now. Slowly. Yes. That's right. Jacket?

Why is everything turning? Shouldn't it stop at some point? Why are the walls coming so close in the hall?Right foot off the floor, right wall, push away from it, move foot forwards, back down to the ground. Left foot off the floor, left wall, push away from it, move foot forwards, back down to the ground…

When I stepped out of the door, the frosty air sobered me to some extent. At least things weren't moving anymore. And my legs seemed to function properly. The fence! I just barely managed to catch myself on a wooden pole. Maybe my legs weren't working all that well? While my hands had reached out to steady me, I had heard some noise. Looking down, I realized that it must have been the result of the fence being hit by a bottle in my hand. I had taken yet another one with me. Were those things glued to my hands? Anyway. Now that it was here, I could as well drink it. It was freezing! The alcohol would warm me from the inside.

Somewhere, in the very far back of my mind I could hear my professional opinion trying to be heard. I ignored it.

I don't know, for how long I had walked. And I don't know where I was headed. My feet hurt. They hurt just like my hand had hurt when I had burned it. But there was no fire here, was there? My eyes quickly scanned the ground. No. No fire. Just snow. White beautiful snow. I took another sip and instantly felt warmer. Things started turning again, but I started to get used to it and walked on.

"Doctor Clarkson?" A voice brought me back into the present. Where was I?

"Doctor Clarkson, are you...are you alright?"

"Mrs. Mason?" I completely ignored her question.

"Why are you here, sitting on the stairs? And why aren't you wearing a coat and – Are you not wearing any shoes?!" She looked funny with her eyes wide open, gaping at me. But something about her question made me stop. Shoes? I looked down.

"That seems to be the case..." I answered slowly as I studied my feet. My socks were soaked. I tried moving my toes to see if they worked, but all I felt was an intense sting. I shrugged - at least I still felt them.

"But why are you not wearing any shoes?" Would the girl just go and mind her own business?

"Well, I'm not entirely sure right now. The fact remains that I'm not wearing any, therefore I shall just head home and get some. Yes! That's what I'll do!" I stood up swiftly. Too swiftly, as I noticed nearly immediately.

The ground came rushing towards me. Suddenly pain flooded my head. The last thing I heard before everything went black was a woman's high pitched scream.

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