She watches Sam enter the bedroom, his lips crooked upwards in that goofy grin she so loves and eating one of the chocolate chip cookies she baked just for him. He sits down on the edge of the bed - their bed. It's a scene they have played out the handful of other times when one of them had gone away for a few days.

Only, this time the scene is not going to go as planned.

This is not the homecoming either of them imagined after they hung up the phone earlier that afternoon.

She is not going to laugh and roll atop him after he flops on his back.

He is not going to smile and teasingly ask, "Did you miss me?"

She won't reply by giving him one kiss for every day he ended up being gone.

And he won't fold those long arms around her and assure her he will, "Not be tagging along with his brother again anytime soon."

There wouldn't be any more soft touches sweeping over hypersensitive skin. No more moist breath rasping over dewy flesh. No more soft sighs filling the silence. No more promises of forever, no more looking forward to all those tomorrow's, no more hopes and dreams for them to laugh over, no more memories for them to recall when they were old and gray.

Pain ripples from the long and ugly gash across her abdomen. It is nothing, however, to the blinding, biting pain tearing apart her heart and melting her soul. Through the waves of pain and fear, she sees Sam frown. His hand edges towards her side of the bed, clearly searching for her and coming up empty.

"Jess?" he calls softly, his brow puckering more with curiosity than worry and concern. "Jess, where are you?"

She desperately tries to make her mouth work so she can tell him to look up, to see what the man with the oddly colored yellow eyes has done to her, but the words are stuck, frozen in her throat, forever. Blood drips off her nightgown, splattering on his forehead and cheek, and staining the pillow upon which his head lies.

The drops remind her of the glaze on a candied apple, all thick and syrupy and shiny. Sam's eyes pop open and meet hers. She reads his shock, his fear, his horror, and his pain but is helpless to do anything about it. Not pinned to the ceiling as she is by invisible hands.

Sam lets out a loud gasp when he realizes where she is staring down at him from. He shoots upright in the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. On his face she can see how there is nothing he can do to help her. He can't stop what is going to happen any more than he can stop a volcano from erupting.

"Jess!" His anguish rips at her. "Jess, no!"

How she wishes she could reach out and stroke his cheek. How she wishes she could tell him she forgives him for never telling her the truth, for keeping who he really was a secret from her, for not warning her about how the monsters she thought got locked up in San Quentin, were actually real. Most of all she wishes she could tell him she loves him, she will always love him, but a wall of flames engulfs her.

Sam... is Jessica Moore's last thought before the fire consumes her, heart, body and soul.

A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!

Last piece tagged to 1x01