Disclaimer: In case you thought otherwise – I don't own anything , maybe only Harper, other characters you don't recognize and the plot.

A\N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It means my better mood and when I'm in a mood I write (a hint intended). Everyone who hasn't yet, please, DO! I'd really like to know what you think, whether or not to go on with it, maybe something you'd like to read in particular. I'd be glad to know!

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He recognized her instantly: she wasn't covered in dirt, her dark hair wasn't sticking to her face due to sweat and her eyes were clear blues. She was small, very skinny to that. Her skin was almost extraordinary pale and her chocolate brown hair was in a tight pony-tail. And when he reached to help her ungraceful self not to collide with the hospital floor she fit in his arms just perfectly..exactly like that time almost a week ago when he carried her out of the burning house on Madison Street.

She looked him in the eye as if trying to remember where she knew him from but before she could put two and two together he called her a pixie and left. Her expression was nothing short but adorable: lips slightly pouted, she wasn't wearing any make up and her doe eyes blinked following him to the elevator.

Kelly kicked his head back slightly. Why couldn't he just ask her how she was feeling? Or about her hand! Jeez…she had a burn on her hand and he said something among the lines of "be careful with it!"…brilliant words! Why couldn't he just ask her if she needed a ride! She couldn't drive with that hand even if her life depended on it! But nooo...he called her a pixie.

The truth was what was he supposed to say? He didn't want her knowing that he was the one to get her out of the fire – she would feel like she owed him. People always did. And usually it was a good thing. With ladies too. But this time…well, he didn't her feeling like she was in his debt or something.

And now there was a chance he wouldn't see her at all anymore. Shit.

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The wait in the hall wasn't long enough. The door opened to reveal a greying woman in her early 50s with thin lips and eyes red from crying.

"Harper!" She cried and was pulling me into the room in no time.

"Mrs. Holms." I said though my eyes watered too. "I'm so sorry about April. I wish…"

But I wasn't sure what to say so the interruption on her part played out nicely for me.

"Don't you dare. It was a vivid accident. I can only thank God you're alive." She took my face in both her hands and then hugged me again.

"How was the memorial?" I wasn't there, I was still in the hospital then.

"Beautiful." She answered simply and took me to the kitchen. "Although I'm not sure if I'm aloud to say this about my own daughter's funeral. Her brother and father both attended."

"Really?" I was surprise to hear that April's older half-brother even knew he's sister was a victim of fire, all I knew was that he was a diplomat in South America.

Mrs. Holms nodded and busied herself making a tea:

"How are you feeling, dear?"

"I..I don't know..." I decided to withhold the information about my lack of sleep. I was talking to a woman who's just lost her child after all. "It's just it seems like only yesterday she and I were fighting for the lead in the Swan Lake and it's already five years since that Swan Lake, I don't dance ballet anymore and now she's gone. And in all the reality there's no one to blame. From what I know the fire started on the floor below us because of a candle or something…a freaky accident really…and no one to blame…and I feel like I want someone to blame…like I need someone to blame…"

I didn't realize how my eyes got wet or how Mrs. Holms was hugging me to her chest, comforting me with soft words the way a real mother would comfort her child. She was still a mother, that would never leave her. Just without a child now.

"I'm sorry…I was supposed to see how you were doing and not pull the whole fountain thing…"

"You're ok." She put a strand of hair behind my ear lovingly. "You're gonna be ok."

"Mrs. Holms…" I asked after a pause while she was putting teacups, milk and sugar on the table. "Do you know anything about the men who saved me? Firefighters?"

"Not much. I only know that it was a Firehouse 51 crew."

When a stood to leave it was around 3p.m.

"Harper," Mrs. Holms stopped me at the door. "You need to start eating normally."

"I'm fine." I reassured her, but she wasn't buying it.

"I am…was a mother of a ballet dancer. I know one unhealthy eating disorder when I see one. You don't dance anymore, stop torturing your body."

My mouth opened to answer something but a decided against it, simply nodded and made my exit.

On the porch I stopped to fish out an iPhone from the purse and googled Firehouse 51. It was just two blocks away East. Very close.

Seemed like the wind became even more hostile and my leather jacket started to appear not to be enough. Good I had a long sweater underneath and big wool scarf that covered my shoulders, neck and a good half of my face.

Fifteen minutes later I was facing a massive white-stoned building with three automatic gates for trucks and a dozen cars on the parking in the front.

Getting closer to the entrance I saw a young paramedic woman slip out of the door. She was around twenty-six, just a little bit older than me, with dark hair and a skin as if she was permanently kissed by the sun.

"Hey, can I help you?" She asked as soon as she saw my approach.

"That would be nice." I stopped in front of her. "I'm looking for someone who could tell me anything about the fire on Madison St. five nights ago."

"I've been there. One hell of a fire, let me tell you. Ok, let me take you to Lieutenant." She turned back to the door from which went out. "I'm Gabriela by the way."

"Nice to meet you." I replied but didn't bother to offer a smile. "I'm Harper. Harper Riley."