She didn't dare hope. Not really. Lacey slipped the bracelet from her wrist and let it sparkle to the floor. Maybe she'd pick it up in the morning. Maybe she'd take it to the pawn shop. It had to be worth something … Maybe?

Lacey stripped off her clothes, ignoring the chill that caressed her naked skin. She climbed under the pathetically thin quilt that served as her only cover. Closing her eyes, she imagined that she could still catch the scent of Gold's cologne on the sheets. In reality, the only thing she could smell was washing powder. She closed her eyes.

She dreamt of a library. An old, circular room at the top of a tower lined with more books than she could have ever imagined, than anyone could ever read in a lifetime. The scent of old leather, parchment and wood smoke filled the air. Shelves reached far above her head, almost brushing the vaulted ceiling. Dust sparkled downwards from windows high up in the thick stone walls.

Lacey walked between the stacks, her skirt swishing around her ankles in a manner that was almost familiar. The bright yellow silk felt soft against her skin.

'Hello?'

Her voice was muffled by the heavy wall of paper. Lacey traced her fingers along the spines trying to make out the titles but the words didn't make any sense. It was almost as if her dream brain had forgotten how to read.

'Hello? Is there anyone here?'

Something giggled. High pitched. Not quite human.

To her right there was a ladder leading up to the highest shelves. Holding, her skirts out of the way, Lacey started to climb. She didn't know why, but somehow, she needed to know what was on the very top shelf. It was important, or so she believed. Clasping the top of the ladder with one hand, she reached upwards, her fingers skimming the topmost shelf. Lacey raised herself on her toes.

'Watch your step, Dearie.'

She turned her heel slipping. Falling backwards, the rush was almost exhilarating until the moment that strong arms plucked her out of the air.

And then she woke up.

Lacey sat up in bed, the sweat standing out on her skin. Icy cold. The scent of smoke was still with her and she coughed in an attempt to clear her aching chest. She could hear a feint beeping coming from somewhere. Switching the light on, she glanced around the apartment. Nothing appeared to be amiss. Poppy was sleeping peacefully. Her pacifier seemed to have vanished so her little thumb was stuck securely in her mouth. She hadn't been disturbed by her mother's nightmare.

Scrabbling around on the floor, Lacey found a pair of old sweats and a jumper. She pulled them on and went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and tipping the entire contents down her throat. She needed more. Her mind still muddled with sleep, Lacey went to the window and stared out at the street. A siren wailed, followed by another and another. She could see the flashing lights approaching. The road outside was fringed with orange. Smoke poured into the sky. The glass slipped from her fingers and smashed on the windowsill. The smoke alarm in the corridor started its high pitched call.

She snatched Poppy from her cot, not caring that her daughter cried out in fear. Lacey was on the verge of screaming herself. She went to the door, but the wood was warm beneath her fingertips.

The fire escape. Her dream came back with startling clarity as Lacey climbed out of the window. Looking up she could see the flames licking the brickwork; sparks, flying up into the reddened sky. The metal was hot beneath her bare feet. Poppy was wriggling in her arms, forcing Lacey to hold onto her more tightly that she wanted to. Her daughter wasn't used to such rough handling and began to scream. Lacey started down, flinging her free arm across her body in an attempt to protect both herself and Poppy from the smoke. Thick black clouds of it were spiralling upwards. She could barely see, barely breath.

Lacey wanted to run, to ignore the bundle in her arms and just plunge downwards racing the flames. She hated the fact that she had to pick her way with care, that she held something more precious than her own life. Six flights of stairs, six landings. Lacey counted every step, moving steadily. And slowly. Far too slowly.

There was a moment of elation when she reached the last landing. But her joy evaporated when she realised that the ladder which was supposed to drop to the ground was missing. If she'd been alone, Lacey would have tried to jump. But she couldn't not with Poppy clinging to her shirt.

'Help,' she screamed.

But there was no one to hear her. She yelled until her throat was hoarse, until her voice was nothing more than a whisper. The smoke was burning in her lungs. She couldn't breath.

And then there was someone. He was standing beneath her, arms outstretched waiting.

'Give her to me,' he said.

Tears streaming down her face, Lacey kissed Poppy's red scrunched up cheeks. She held her over the iron railing and let her go. He stumbled a few steps, his right ankle giving out and driving him to his knees but he caught Poppy securely in his arms. Rolling to his side he cradled her protectively against his body.

'Now you!' he shouted.

Lacey nodded but her legs wouldn't move. A hunk of flaming wood flashed by, its heat singing her hair. He stumbled out of its path.

'Please … sweetheart…'

He had to back away, taking Poppy with him, keeping her safe.

'Wait!' Lacey screamed.

He stopped.

Lacey sat down on the metal platform, dangling her legs over the edge. It seemed such a long way down. She edged forward, suspending herself in mid air for a terrible moment and then she jumped.

Her ankle twisted under her as she hit the ground. Lacey fell flat on her face, scraping her chin on the tarmac, her knees and hands were bleeding. Rolling onto her back, she lay there struggling for breath, watching the smoke spiral upwards and the flames licking the building. Tears streamed down her face. Then he was there, one arm pulling her to him. His body warm and solid and real.

'I've got you … I've got you. You're safe,' Gold whispered into her hair.

'I didn't think you'd come,' she sobbed.

'I couldn't stay away.'

'Poppy?'

'She's fine, she's fine. Look.'

She took the baby from him and cuddled her close. Poppy's cries diminished to a whimper. The little girl coughed.

'Sweetheart … we have to go.'

Gold's cane was nowhere to be seen but they clutched onto each other as they stumbled out of the alley and onto the street. There were moments of confusion, when Lacey lost sight of Gold. Someone wrapped a blanket over her shoulders. Poppy was taken from her for a few terrible seconds whilst the paramedics checked them over. They were both pronounced fit and hustled away.

She found herself alone. Standing on the tarmac, her bare feet scraped and raw. Lacey caught the sickening stench of burnt meat. Poppy started to cry again.

'Shhh … shhh…'

'Hey…'

Gold was limping towards them, his movements slow and painful without the cane to support him.

'I've got a cab waiting.'

Lacey nodded. Following him without question. There was no where else to go.