Author Note: We're long overdue for a chapter here, friends. It's only been…like…a year and a half. I just cannot let this story die unfinished. I'm so sorry this took such a long time. Just rest assured that I am back for good this time.

The song for this chapter is "Where Your Heartache Exists" by The Menzingers. Just to add to the feels.

PS I'm considering putting my work on AO3. I would have the same pen name and everything. I might touch up the chapters, maybe heat up the smut a little bit. Let me know what you all think, okay? Basically, I am just really happy to be back and writing again.

Days had passed - two of them, to be precise - since Loki had decided to spare the mortal girl. Since the two of them found themselves in John Walker's apartment and right back at square one. Yes, they'd had a bit of a spat that ended in him solidifying in his mind that he would not be able to rid himself of her as easily as he had hoped, but neither were quite sure where they stood.

They'd made love twice since that first time, it seeming to be the only way to assuage the ever-present tension. Each time she seemed distant afterward, unhappy. He never quite knew what to say or do to make her comfortable with him, and he couldn't even bring himself to try. He wasn't what she was looking for and hearing her confirm that would just pour salt in the wound.

Silently he watched the rise and fall of her naked chest, the way the tired light of the late afternoon sun lit the curve of her breast and accentuated the light sheen of sweat at the base of her neck. It was starting to slow now, that labored breathing that had been profanity-laced just a few minutes previous as they'd once again ridden waves of pleasure together only to fall silent and uncomfortable. Even the pleasure of good sex didn't seem to linger and he felt empty in its absence.

He felt the sheets rustle before he really noticed her moving to get out of bed, but in a series of colors he couldn't quite focus on she sat up and kicked her feet over the side, muttering something offhandedly about needing to shower again.

There was the nagging feeling that he should say something, keep her from leaving so quickly. When he cleared his throat to speak she seemed to tense at the sound, moving her head over so slightly to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Is that okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Talking to her was like tiptoeing across hot coals. "Yes, of course."

"Good."

Silently she slid off the bed and started toward the door.

"Have I done something to offend you?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them. They hung in the air thick enough to stop her like a wall.

For a long time she didn't answer, didn't even turn her head in his direction. The only way he could tell she had actually heard his question was by the way her shoulders seemed to sag a little, like he'd dropped a weight that she was now burdened to carry.

"Can…can we not do this right now?" She didn't sound as cold as he had expected her to. Just hesitant, perhaps a little sad.

"Alice, I'm doing my best…"

"I SAID CAN WE NOT DO THIS?" Even when she raised her voice she couldn't manage to sound angry. "Jesus, at least let me wash the fucking jizz off my thighs before you go guilt tripping me about how I'm not communicating with you."

This caught him completely by surprise and he could feel it show on his face, his eyebrows raising and then knitting together just as quickly.

"Yes, yes of course." He wasn't really sure what to say to that. In the time he had known her, even when he was mortal, he'd never heard her sound so raw and frustrated.

The sound of bare feet shuffling against carpet filled the room and he couldn't even bring himself to watch her go. As soon as the bathroom door was shut, the lock clicked and he swore such an innocent noise had never felt so loud to him.

For a long time he lay there listening to the sound of running water and the screech of the shower pipes. A distant part of his mind realized he'd always meant to call maintenance about that. Alice always used to complain that it would wake her when she was trying to sleep in.

A ragged breath filled his lungs and for a moment it felt as though he had lost just as much as she had. His mortal self still felt the weight of that blow, the heartbreak of a failed relationship that should have worked so well. He wanted to give in to that, wanted to let it take him. Wanted to denounce his entire existence up to the point that he had become John Walker and-

NO!

An angry fists balled around the soft cotton sheets before he pushed himself up and grabbed the pants he had been wearing off the floor and dressed in a huff.

He wouldn't lose himself to this girl. Couldn't.

There had to be some sorcery behind this, some secret she was keeping from him that explained why he was so hopelessly caught up in her. So absolutely dependent on her approval to feel that he had value.

Honestly, he was completely disgusted by it, bordering on furious. He did not need her, did not want to feel for her, did not want to love her, and yet such a nagging part of his mind would not let go. It was like being torn in two each and every time he so much as thought about her. That first morning when they had fallen into bed with each other, he'd felt better than he had in days. But each consecutive encounter had left him feeling less satisfied and more used. Given the way she had acted when he had tried to speak with her about this, it seemed likely she shared this sentiment in some way.

They both knew what they were doing would only cause trouble, but it had felt like the only way to fill that gap between parts of him. That tear between god and mortal that had happened the moment he was reunited with her. Probably earlier than that, if he was being honest. After all, there was a reason that he couldn't convince his magic to take him anywhere that wasn't Midgard.

The shower pipes stopped screaming and he felt himself tense at the absence of sound. Seconds began to drag on, his breath beginning to fill the silence with his frantic pulse. It made his head ache, his ears feeling as though they were filling with liquid as he waited. He made it a game to try to calm himself, to focus on getting his heartbeat to slow and air to fill his lungs in a way that felt satisfactory rather than mandatory.

Inhale, exhale, inhale….exhale, inhale….exhale….inhale…exhale….inhale…

The lock clicked and his breath all came out in a rush, the pulse that he had convinced to slow kicking back up with a vengeance. Alice emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam that smelled strongly of that shampoo she always left at his house and he couldn't even bring himself to appreciate it. No, he was seeing red and it wasn't just because of that damned hair of hers.

When she locked eyes with him, she hesitated, but never broke contact. This was it, his chance to tear her to fucking pieces for how poorly she was reacting to all of this. How she was treating him like scum beneath her shoes, like a disappointment. A tool she was using simply for her own pleasure, only to turn around and reject him on a whim. He could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, the anger that would propel them starting to turn his face a slight shade of red. His mouth opened, he took a breath, and then she held up a finger and shook her head and he knew that the chance had passed.

"No," she said matter-of-factly. "No you don't get to say anything yet."

She took a few tentative steps into the room, looked from him to the closet, before rushing across the room and grabbing a shirt from the open closet. It went on her body in a rush, the towel dropping for only a minute to give him a glimpse of skin that he hardly enjoyed. The suddenly shy, reluctant behavior made him feel like so much as noticing her naked was somehow violating her.

Unable to quite come to terms with that, he looked away from her and pointedly stared at tangled sheets on the bed as he waited for her to start berating him.

It never happened, not in the way he expected. There was a quiet, choked noise that had his head snapping up in her direction. A trembling hand was pressed against her mouth, suffocating whatever sound was trying to escape. Creases around her eyes seemed to get deeper, her face turning a frightening purple-tinged-red as she tried and failed a few times to inhale. When she finally managed, a sharp exhale followed and her shoulders shook against it. A gasp of breath was sucked in through her teeth and it was only then that he realized she was trying not to cry.

"Alice?" His voice was quiet, empathetic, but still she shook her head at the sound.

"I'm sorry." Another sharp inhale had her moving that hand to rub the bridge of her nose. "No, no I'm not."

As she stood there she seemed to shrink, her shoulders collapsing forward as her knees gave out and she dropped onto the bed. "I just need a second."

"Alice…"

Her eyes seemed too wide when she looked up at him, her expression fierce. "Don't. Do. Not. Speak. It's not your goddamn turn this time. Do you understand that?"

Never had someone other than his parents spoken to him in this manner and he had no idea how to react to it. So, he didn't. Simply stared at her feeling a little slack-jawed until she finally composed herself enough to breathe normally again.

"You know…you know what your problem is?" She was on her feet again, making sure to keep the bed between them. "I don't think you're used to being told no. I don't think you're equipped to process that word, are you, you entitled son of a bitch?"

His brow furrowed and he tried to read her expression for any hint of what she was feeling. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understand…"

"That's because you won't let me talk for two goddamn seconds without interrupting. You don't pay attention to anyone's needs other than your own, do you? Jesus Christ."

That made him angry, made his fists ball at his side. But when he tried to object, she cut him off yet again.

"Stop!" The hand she held up shook every so slightly, seeming to waver alongside his understanding of Alice's point.

Holding up his hands in return, he motioned his surrender in the conversation. "By all means, continue. Please. So perhaps I can understand why the hell you are so cross with me."

Her bottom lip quivered. "I don't want you."

She may as well have slapped him given the way that comment left him completely speechless and taken aback.

Not wasting a moment of that silence, she went on. "I've been fucking you for…what? Two days now? And every time you don't even give me the pleasure of seeing your fucking face. You want my loyalty, but you cannot give me yours. I suck your cock, tell you how much I love when you fuck me, but that one time I tried to climb on top you nearly fucking threw me off." For a moment she paused, caught her breath. "I feel…I feel like…like you're using me. Does that make sense? Like I could be anyone and it wouldn't matter. You do what you want with me and when you're done, we're done.

"That's the difference between you and John. I've figured that out the last few days. Like, I couldn't figure out what was throwing me off about this so much, but that's it. When you were…well…mortal, I guess, you fucked me like I meant something. To your mortal self we were equals and you cared what I wanted. If you finished before me, you went out of your way to make sure I got off. Do you remember that time you were worried I wasn't into it, so you pulled me on top of you and insisted that I set the pace and do what felt best for me? That last time around I got bored and I don't think you even noticed. You're so caught up in your power trip, in making sure I know that I am submissive to your will, that you don't even pay attention to me. At least when John decided to play dom, he made absolutely certain I was enjoying it."

Loki was shocked. He wasn't paying attention to her in bed? That was it? That silly mortal girl was near heartbroken over not being properly brought to climax in bed. Pathetic. To think, he had been worried about this discussion. Afraid she would say something to really cut him deep. It was laughable, honestly, and he couldn't help chuckling at her.

It earned her ire, no doubt about that. She fixed him with a sour look and nearly barred her teeth as she hissed, "Is something fucking funny?"

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. Was it not obvious?

"Yes," he replied simply. "If it is your wish for me to be a more caring lover then I shall do so. I do not understand why you're getting so upset."

He expected her to understand this, to calm down and see how petty her worries truly were. However, somehow his words seemed to have the opposite effect. If anything she seemed to get angrier, her face turning a violent shade of red. She actually turned away from him for a moment, her face the very image of disgust.

"You'll be a more caring lover," she repeated through gritted teeth. "Good fucking luck ever getting the chance."

Picking up her jeans from the floor, she pulled them on in a hurry and stormed out of the room.

"What?" Confused and raging, he chased after her.

She had nearly reached the front door by the time he caught up. Grabbing her arm, her pulled her back before she could reach the handle. Letting out a frustrated shriek, she spun around and slapped him squarely across the face.

"Do not touch me." Practically seething, she wrenched her arm from his grip and stormed into the living room to put distance between them.

The ice in her voice made him shiver as his shaking hand carefully rubbed his stinging jaw.

"You're absolutely mad, aren't you?" he hissed, following after her. "You are absolutely furious with me, but you cannot manage to tell me what you are upset about, short of my apparently subpar love making."

Sticking out her chin, she looked down her nose at him, eyes going from his approaching form to the doorway behind him. Seeming to decide her odds of escaping were limited, she finally met his gaze.

"I have been telling you exactly what is wrong, but you aren't hearing me." Her voice held measured rage that burned in her eyes. "Your particular brand of fucking is the least of my worries. The problem is that you are selfish absolutely all the time. Are you following me so far?"

Was she talking down to him? Did she not realize that they were not even on the same tier of existence? That she was below him, should fear him, worship him –

"Clearly not." Taking a long breath, she began to rub her temple as she looked away from him.

Frowning, he motioned at her to continue. "Please, by all means, go on. Tell me exactly how I fail to measure up to your standards."

"That!" she snapped, not missing a beat. "That right there. The moment someone tells you something you don't want to hear you shut them down. You've condescended me so much in the last few days that I've literally had to tune you out to keep from questioning myself. Yesterday you told me you wanted me to love you the way I loved John, but you have nothing on him. How am I supposed to have a lick of respect for you if that is not returned? You look down on me, treat me like a pawn rather than an equal. I fucking have feelings too. I'm not your plaything that you can just ignore when I bore you. That's not how this works." She motioned between them with two fingers. "And if you think it is, I won't be a part of it."

Pressing his lips together, he gave a silent nod. Looked between her face and the floor.

"I apologize for how trite this may sound," he sighed. "But I've never done this." He copied her motion between them. "And, you may have gathered this from my distaste for my brother, my family is a bit…how would you phrase this? …Fucked up."

Her mouth twitched at that. Just a little shadow of a smile.

"That doesn't give you permission to treat me like shit." There was significantly less ire in her voice now, much to his relief. "Relationships are not a means to an end. It's a partnership. I will not be walked on so you can stroke your ego thinking that you've overcome…whatever it is you took me from New York for."

Eventually he nodded, admittedly unsure how to approach what she was asking for. He understood in theory, certainly, but had no basis for comparison. No concept on a bond based on anything other than rivalry. The people in his life that he was supposed to have loved had always treated him like he was lesser. Even his mother, much as he loved her, had always allowed his father to openly favor Thor above him.

In a few careful strides, he crossed the room to stand close to her. Though she did not step away, she looked wary of him.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He took a careful step forward, held up his hands. "I want to show you." Those hands hovered at either side of her head. "May I touch you?"

"What are you going to do?"

It was clear she did not trust him. He couldn't blame her after their past few days, after the feelings she had just admitted to.

"I'm going to show you what I mean when I tell you I do not understand how you expect me to treat you. It's easier to do this than to try to explain it to you."

Skeptically she glanced at his hands. "It won't hurt?"

"Not a bit."

He wasn't entirely certain that was true, but she was nodding her consent and muttering that it was alright and he took that chance to lightly press his fingers against her temples. Their foreheads pressed together and she gasped as her mind was filled with his consciousness.

Glimpses of his past flashed through both of their minds. His childhood, growing up promised the world and only experiencing it in his brother's wake. His moments of glory going unappreciated. A life brought up in the most lavish luxury Asgard had to offer. He was a prince, though clearly not the heir to the throne. In place of his brother's strength, he had wit and cunning. His mother taught him magic that went unappreciated by his father. It left him feeling constantly underestimated and underappreciated. So, when left to his own devices, he did his best to learn everything he could about the kingdom that would one day be his, and ways to make it his if it did not fall right into his hands. That was where the frost giants came in…and where everything started to go south.

He showed her Jotenheim, the cold that seemed to bother him far less than the others and when one of those monsters touched him his skin changed to match theirs. And then the moment in the vault, the moment he realized his true parentage. The fight with his father that had ensued. His short rule as his father was in Odinsleep and his brother remained banished to Earth. The fight on the bifrost, his ultimate fall from grace.

And the void.

There were only flashes here, most of those torturous months having been blocked from his memory. There was Thanos. Slow torture as he was bent to the will of a creature with greater power than even his. He remembered heat and pain and he could feel Alice tense as those feelings were shared.

"I remember this," Alice whispered as New York was shared between them. "The news had a different take on it."

He shushed her before concentrating a little harder. There was his return to Earth, Stuttgart, the Avengers, New York again, and finally his return to Asgard. The subsequent banishment. The fear and confusion that accompanied it. Absolute terror at the thought of being returned to the void. And then a quick glimpse of her face and the way it assuaged his fears. Felt like home.

The connection between their minds was severed and he took a step away from her. "I apologize for some of that. Mental connections are difficult to filter. I just needed you to see –"

Alice made a sympathetic noise and touched his cheek with a tender hand. "You carry so much pain with you and close yourself off from everyone that tries to help. That has to be exhausting."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head.

"Your perception is warped." It wasn't an insult, just a matter of fact statement. "You need to see that not everyone is out to get you. This isn't a competition. Let me help."

Unsure of any other way to respond, he simply shrugged. "You can't save me, Alice. You realize that, don't you?"

She gave him an exasperated look and put her hands on her hips. "I'm not trying to save you. I'm trying to prove to you that not everyone is an asshole."

"I thought you said you were done giving me the time of day."

"No, I said I was done letting you fuck me, and I meant that. For a while, at least. But I see good in you, really I do"

His insides twisted at that. Part of him was flattered, his heart rate kicking up a little at the very idea of finally feeling appreciated for his gifts. But years of growing up as a means to an end had taught him never to take such offers at face value.

"I don't need your pity." The words were spat through his teeth before he could stop them.

Eyes growing wide, Alice took a surprised step back and went right back on the defensive. "I'm not trying to pity you. Jesus fucking Christ. I want to help you, to convince you that some of us really have your best interests at heart. Do me a favor and think back to when John and I were together. I know those memories are fuzzy for you, but just fucking try."

Shaking his head, he tried to brush off the hand she put on his arm. "I do not need-"

"Please."

Desperation laced the word and he resigned to her request with an over exaggerated eye roll. "Fine."

"Good." Her hands moved to hold his as she caught him in her gaze. "Now think about the moment I found out you had money. The mortal you, that is. I could have easily made you my sugar daddy, could have abandoned the record shop because you could have easily supported both of us. But did I? No. In fact, it freaked me the fuck out thinking you may at some point suggest that. I never asked you for anything but love and support and I'm not going to start now. I don't give a shit about money, I don't want your power or royalty status. I just…I want you. That's it."

He wanted to say she was lying, that he knew better than to believe such pretty words. But her eyes wouldn't let him. She held him with her stare, refused to let him look away. That was honesty in her face and he struggled to come to terms with that. It should have given him a sense of security, but the sinking feeling that he could not return that sort of selfless emotion put him on edge.

"What if I cannot return your affections?" It had to be asked. She was being honest with him and he thought it best to do the same.

The smile she was giving him faltered, but her gaze did not. She simply shrugged and gave him a warm look. "Then I guess we're going to have to take that risk."

His brow creased and he looked her over warily. "Why? Why on Earth do you insist on trying to revive a relationship that no longer exists? There is nothing here, nothing between us. What you had with my mortal self was, admittedly, very special. I loved you, Alice. I still have residual feelings, but I cannot guarantee they will last."

Eyes fixed on the floor, she nodded and gripped his hands a little tighter. "I know. Really, I do. And though you have John's face, I know you are not the same person." Her feet shuffled as she searched for words. "And even knowing that, I still care about you. I know John is still in there somewhere, still part of you. If you didn't have the capacity to be that person, you wouldn't have been. And even if I never get you in that form again, I'll take what I can get. I know you're worth it."

He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how John was but a small part of his far greater consciousness. But she was determined and he knew loyalty like hers was not easy to come by. So he smiled and placed a chaste kiss against her forehead. "I hope you're right."

"Aren't I always?"

Barking out a surprised laugh, he dropped her hands and shook his head.

"Of course you are," he snorted.

They stood there in silence, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck and resting there warmly.

"So," he said eventually. "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, we could stand here staring at each other all day." That teasing tone of hers brought a grin to his lips. "Or I could show you what I've found over the past couple of days in my book."

With a grin mischievous enough to match his own, she moved to the couch and curled up into the corner. When he didn't move immediately, she motioned for him to come sit beside her. There was a moment's hesitation before he followed, coming to sit with some space between them.

"You're going to know this stuff better than I do," she shrugged, grabbing that book of hers from the end table beside her. "I mean, these are human interpretations of stories. But, shit…I had book marked a page… There's a few stories that talk about travelling between realms, but they don't mention the bifrost. And I was thinking, if you could travel without it, that might be something to consider. I'm not sure if any of those pathways would be connected here, though… And, like I said, I don't even know if it's possible."

There it was, that spark that he knew was in her. That mind that kept drawing him in. She was quick for a midgardian and he appreciated that, even with all the fighting they had been doing, she was still trying to help his cause.

"Oh, it's definitely possible. Just difficult." He took the book from her hands and started flipping through the pages.

"And I supposed you would know, would you?"

Winking in her direction, he smirked like the devil incarnate. "Would you expect anything less from the God of Mischief?"

Shaking her head, she snorted and reclaimed the book, raising a sardonic eyebrow at him. "I'm not about to start calling you a god."

The sun was just starting to peak above the near-still waters of Lake Michigan when Alice opened heavy eyes to greet the new day, drawing the attention of the dark haired man on the couch next to her. Given the way he startled when she started to shift her limbs, she assumed he must have dozed off as well. Probably for the better, she was almost certain he'd not slept in the three days since they ended up back in Chicago.

Her foot collided with the hard corner of the book she'd been reading the night before, the one she most have fallen asleep while reading to him, making her mumble a sleepy curse. Beside her, the Asgardian chuckled, but lost it in a yawn halfway through. Shaking his head, he stretched his arms and blinked a few times as he came fully into consciousness.

"Charming as ever when you greet the day," he grinned, he voice still quiet and sleep-heavy.

"Don't start with me, I just stubbed my fucking toe." She couldn't hide the smile that crept into her voice and took her face.

Raising an eyebrow, he glanced down at the book on the floor.

"Ah, yes, truly a most dastardly foe to earn such harsh words." Now he was just making fun of her and not even trying to hide it.

"I could have gotten a papercut. I can't be held responsible for what happens after it draws first blood."

"Remind me never to cross you."

"Too late for that. Just count your lucky stars you made up for it."

She realized a little too late those words could have stung, but he laughed them off and she did the same.

"Do you want coffee?" She stretched as she stood, her joints popping as she did so. "I'm going to make a pot."

Not waiting for an answer, she moved into the kitchen and began prepping the pot. It was with some disdain that she realized the coffee tin was nearly empty. Rolling her eyes, she resigned herself to a weak brew. Of course John had nearly drank all of his coffee. There was not a time in her memory that she had been to his place and not seen coffee in the carafe.

"You're almost out of coffee," she mumbled, not expecting him to care.

Wiping sleep from her eyes, she padded into the bedroom to change out of the clothes she had slept in, grateful for the fact she had left a chunk of her wardrobe here.

For a moment she considered taking a shower, but decided coffee was higher on her priority list. It was funny how almost normal this felt, how last night had left her feeling so much more comfortable in Loki's presence. He wasn't John, not by a long shot, but that resentment she had felt was fading. That was a start.

The whine of firetruck sirens had her glancing outside curiously. Not an uncommon sound in the city, but one that always made her curious. Out the bedroom window she could see three trucks heading down the road in the direction of the shop.

Her shop.

She realized with a sinking heart that she never had the chance to reopen it after Christmas, that she was longing to be back among the rows of albums and surrounded by the customers that shared her passion for collecting. Fuck, she missed having a normal life. Missed Heather keeping her company as they stocked shelves, or the guys from the tattoo shop next door dropping in to say hello, or John leaning against the counter to flirt with her while she pretended not to know him.

"It makes all the other fellows in the store notice you," he would grin. "Gives me a confidence boost to know I have you all to myself."

Gathering her dirty clothes into a bundle, she threw them into the hamper and moved back toward the living room. The TV was on and she could hear the reporter talking about a fire, likely whatever was going on down the street. It was big apparently, taking a few local businesses with it.

Ignoring it, she went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

"…reports say the fire has spread to claim four local businesses, and the fire department is working to ensure it does not spread further. Among affected businesses are Inkling Tattoo, Cuppa Joe Coffee House, Vertigo Music, and-"

Vertigo Music.

The coffee cup shattered against the tile floor on impact, but Alice didn't care. Couldn't process. Not even the support of the counter did her any good and just continued to sink, slipping down onto the floor as her heart tried to claw its way from her chest.

She felt dizzy, sick. It was her store. Her fucking store. Gone. But…no…no it couldn't. No. Not the store. Not her whole fucking life. In the last week she had lost the man she very much believed to be her soul mate, had been dragged around the fucking country by superheroes and angry gods, and she stubbornly refused to believe that the world would be cruel enough to take away the only thing she had left. That store was her life, her entire reason for living, without it she was nothing. Without that building she was homeless.

She didn't even bother to put on shoes before bolting for the door and heading for the elevator. There was a cry behind her, the sound of her name being yelled through the door and down the hall. She ignored it. Couldn't stop.

Heart pounding and eyes stinging with tears, she frantically hit the button for the elevator. Slipped inside and hit the button for the bottom floor as footsteps came running after her.

Not quick enough, not even close.

Her body was shaking. Her stomach was sick.

Even as her bare feet took her barreling out of that elevator and onto the street she could see the smoke pouring from blocks away. Fast as her legs would allow, she sprinted down the sidewalk, didn't even bother to check for traffic as she went. Just had to keep moving, had to prove to herself that it was a lie.

It had to be.

This was a bad joke and soon someone was going to –

Then she saw it. The great wall of black smoke surrounded by sirens and blocked off by police as great streams of water shot at the blaze.

An officer stopped her before she could get any closer.

"Ma'am this area is secured, I cannot allow-"

"THAT'S MY BUILDING!" Her throat ached at the scream.

Arms wrapped around her and pulled her back as she kicked and fought.

"THAT'S MY SHOP. THAT'S MY SHOP. THAT'S…"

Her head was pounding, her heart beating right along with it. She was going to be sick…

"Ma'am, you need to calm down. We're doing everything we can to save the building, I promise. But you fighting me won't help."

The thrashing stopped, her body going near limp as she stopped fighting and stared in horror as the only thing she had left went up in literal flames. There was an explosion from the garage, one that had the firefighters quickly moving around to the side of the building. To the garage. To what was undoubtedly the burning carcass of Mary-Ann.

It was gone.

Everything was gone.