Days passed without a resolution of the impasse.

"How did Flame find you?" Blackheath gripped the window sill, staring at the ground below as if it were personally responsible for this situation.

"She knew me," Alex replied, sitting by the opposite wall, "She knew where to look."

"Flame knows Dorsey better than anyone, practically. Why can't Flame do this? Why didn't you bring her?"

Alex's voice was hard. "She is not coming. It's not an option. Flame is never getting out of that body again, if I have anything to do with it. I'm not even supposed to be here." His voice had turned muffled, and Blackheath saw he had his head in his hands.

"You didn't even tell her, did you?" Blackheath said, "she doesn't know. You are going to be in so much trouble when she finds out."

Alex didn't look up.

"Go get her," Blackheath said, staring at him hard, "If she knew what was going on, she would come."

"Of course she would, but you are not going to do that to her. She doesn't get a choice here."

Blackheath grounded his teeth in silence. "So its fine for you, but Dorsey has to just… die?"

"Dorsey is not going to die," Alex said softly. "You can do this."

He had to do this.

But as soon as they entered the hospital room again, and he saw those repulsive silver eyes in the face he loved so much, sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned on his heel. Alex blocked him instantly.

"I can't do this," Blackheath muttered, "There must be some other way."

"She goes deep then."

"No."

"Well then…"

"I can't do it. She's a frikkin Soul."

"You kissed Flame."

"What! You kissed Flame?" The Soul cried, wounded.

Blackheath glared at him.

Just trying to help, Alex's expression said.

You are soo helpful, Blackheath's face replied.

The expression on the Soul's face was like she listening to a faint, far away song.

"Did you get something?" Alex asked.

"Maybe…" she frowned in concentration, her focus entirely internal.

Blackheath was by her side in an instant.

"Dorsey?" he whispered. His hand stroked the side of her face thoughtlessly.

"Yes," the Soul whispered, still lost in concentration, "Keep going."

Blackheath closed his eyes, blocking out the hated sight, and forced himself to concentrate on touch. He let his hand slide down her neck and onto her shoulder, pushing the gown off it so he could cup the whole joint in his trembling fingers. Her hands were sliding up his neck and into his hair, pressing his face closer until their lips touched. She tried to press forward, but he leant back, resisting, struggling internally. Finally he let her kiss him, and even began to respond, and her legs climbed his thighs and he didn't stop them.

"Uh, guys?" Alex said, somewhat uncomfortably, "I'm still here."

"Alex, go away," the Soul whispered languorously between kisses, and Alex had to laugh.

"Mine." It was Dorsey's voice, unmistakable, and Blackheath jerked away from her guiltily.

"Oh!" the Soul cried out in disappointment, "She's gone."