At the sound of the familiar voice erupting from behind her, Ariel froze, paralyzed. Time had suspended like a wound not mended. If it hadn't been for the small gap of her slightly parted lips, air would've stopped flowing to her lungs.

The timing couldn't have been more imperfect.

She hadn't wanted him to come upon, not like this. At this present time, she realized why she had felt so uncomfortable when she'd opened the door to find Brandon standing behind. She had known that it would happen and that having him, here, at her doorstep was similar to playing with a fire bigger than them.

"Do you want me to come down?" Insisted the man at the top of the stairs, inside of the beautiful home.

"No!" Her voice broke as she declared, panic-stricken.

She leaned backwards, as though she needed something to support her and inclined her head to the side so that Barrett could hear her better, talking through the space between her and the door.

"No, no, it's okay. I got it." She swallowed, managing to collect herself enough to form a proper sentence.

Her heart which seemed to have stopped beating began to pound furiously, like it had only now processed what was happening.

Meanwhile, Brandon watched her with a downcast look upon his face. He seemed abashed, resembling a puppy that had just made a mistake and sat with their tail between their legs. His world came crashing around him and he swore he'd never felt greater pain.

Why had God awoken him if he had to live a life in which the woman he loved belonged to someone else? For a second, he wished he'd never rose from his coma.

Diverting her eyes from his, Ariel looked down at her leather boots in shame. By definition, she'd done nothing wrong but the guilt she felt from deep within indicated otherwise. She had, in a way, given up on him.

"I'm... I'm so sorry." She murmured, still not looking up.

Brandon exhaled in response, not making eye contact either. What was there to say?

"I..." The redhead began timidly, after a couple of seconds.

Upon hearing her faint voice, he gathered the strength to look at her and nodded his head, encouraging her to go on.

"I tried to talk to you but uh... the doctors... they told me it was best to wait." She confessed with a trembling voice.

As he attempted to recover from the blow of the revelation, it dawned on him that she'd flown in shade of her promissive faith and had etched her story.

After all, because his had come to an abrupt stop didn't mean hers had to follow suit.

He'd once read somewhere that human beings were more often frightened than hurt and that they suffered more from imagination than from reality but the scenarios he'd made up in his mind didn't account to the amount of pain the reality of it all really was.

"I figured as much, Red."

He shrugged, his hands buried in his jeans pockets.

"I just wanted to make sure, nothing else." He offered her a sad smile.

He didn't want to make her resent herself for moving on, by any means. But he refused to pretend the news weren't devastating him.

Another silence followed and, when the tension could no longer be bearable, he took a step back.

"I'll see you soon, honey."

The pet name he'd called her came to him spontaneously and he didn't curse himself for calling her that. To him, she was still his wife and grieving the loss of their marriage was not on the list for the day.

He took a long last look at her before turning on his heel and descending the few steps he'd climbed before his heart had shattered.

"Stay!" She begged, reacting without letting herself time to think. She went to reach for his arm and he stopped in his tracks.

He remained still, back facing her at first, only to slowly turn around after acknowledging that he had no right to ignore her or to be angry at her.

"One day, maybe." He said, solemnly and then decided to wink at her as she hugged herself, not wanting their encounter to end on too much of an awkward note.

And with that, he started making his way back to her gate, walking — he thought — out of her life. There, he looked so lonely, enchained to bitter roots while Ariel watched him from her porch, feeling all of his sorrow.

There seemed to be no such a thing as a final glory for him and it had been wrong of him to drown his fears in his toxic dreams. He'd breathed through her memories, drinking his mind in moonlight brights, more often than not, forgetting that reality differed from the one he'd pictured.

She'd moved on and all he could do was accept it. He had to put himself into her shoes, after all. Would he have waited for her had it been the other way around?

Absolutely, just like she had but when the years would have passed and there would have been no sign of improvement on the horizon, leading uncertainty to persist, wouldn't he have considered turning the page too? Or rather, attempted to get on with his life, if not for his sake but for Juliet's?

It wasn't the life he'd wanted for them and if another man was making her happy, he would learn to be happy as well. Right?

Brandon had barely taken a few steps that he found himself taking a shaky breath, the tears in his eyes building up faster than the past twenty years had passed him by.

He wasn't one to cry often, much like Ariel, he'd always conceal his emotions and it had taken the two of them a long time before they'd dared to let the other person see past the mask but it had come naturally, on their own accord and they'd then become the only ones that they'd open to.

Yet, right now, she was the last person he wanted to see him cry. He condemned it completely.

The more he tried to hold the tears back, not wanting them to fall, the more it seemed that they were fighting to roll down his cheeks. They begged for release, blurring his vision, hurting him with their saltiness. He exhaled deeply, hoping to calm himself down and brought his hands to cover his face as he walked. He wiped his eyes and sniffled loudly, almost wishing he hadn't loved the woman this much.

Soon, he had left, abandoning Ariel to herself as she remained on the porch. She had seen none of his crying for his back had been turned to her but she'd noticed the slouch of his shoulders and that hadn't made the scene unfolding before her any less heartbreaking.

She rubbed her temple, holding one arm over her stomach as the other one rested over her forearm and wondered what would happen between them from then on.

She understood that he would try to keep his distance, that he would possibly refuse to see her for a while but could she live her life, knowing that Brandon was awake and yet, she could not see him or be with him?

The redhead looked up at the sky and muttered a prayer, begging higher forces to help her find peace and quieten the conflict in her heart. She then said a prayer for him, wishing him the best that life could offer. He'd earned it.

The chilliness of the end of the afternoon piercing through her dark blue sweater, hitting her skin, reminded her of where she was standing and she promptly returned inside, closing the door behind her.

She leaned down against it momentarily, preparing herself to affront her partner who'd more than likely question her regarding who had been behind the door and she sighed at the thought of having this conversation with him.

Her mind instantly replayed the scene that had just taken place and she began to feel a rush of distress overtake her. She was about to cry but Barrett's voice startled her, catching her mid-act.

"Ari?" He frowned. "What's wrong? You look upset."

The redhead shook her head no and quickly pulled at her sleeve, using it to clean her misty eyes.

"I'm fine." She told him firmly, plastering a smile on her face and straightened up, letting all traces of her agitation vanish.

The sandy-blonde man wasn't dupe, how could she imagine he'd buy that lie? Watching her attentively, he removed the towel from around his neck and sighed in desperation.

"Come on, don't lie to me."

"Go get dressed, dinner should be ready in a few minutes." She ignored him, changing the subject.

"We're having my famous praline and sweet potato casserole." She exhaled deeply and made her way towards him to pat his arm gently. "And I'm having ice-cream for dessert."

"You're having ice-cream? Is that so? What about me?" He mocked her tone, emphasizing on the first word.

"There's not enough left for two, darlin'." Ariel said with a sly look, trying her best to show him that there was nothing for him to worry about and that she was, indeed, in a good mood.

"Didn't we go grocery shopping yesterday?"

She winked at him.

"Yes. Exactly."

A pack of cigarette laid in front of him on the wooden table as he stared at the lighter in his hands. He was sitting in the middle of his hotel room, back straightened and eyes riveted on the flame that shone in front of him.

His thumb kept sliding over the gas release button and he found great entertainment in watching it come and disappear. The sound the device was emitting as he removed the pressure his rough finger was putting on it allowed his mind to stay focused and not drift back to what had happened a couple of hours prior.

There was a time when their love used to shine as bright. And now, much like a consumed cigarette, it seemed to have diminished, making room for a bittersweet aftertaste.

It was similar to the first smoke of the day, right after sipping on a coffee and eating a bite of a freshly prepared toast. It was as good as it could get and all the other cigarettes that'd be smoked throughout the day would never feel as good as the very first one.

In a way, he compared himself and Ariel to that. Fire and gasoline, the most beautiful weapons of all.

Mixed together, they created the highest shower of sparks. But with that came the risk of burning yourself, that was the probability of holding something so powerful in your hands.

It beamed with all its glory and the warmth along with the welcoming feel it gave, but as soon as it was slowly approached, it snarled and bit. With a single nip, everything you loved could be gone in minutes.

That's why it was like fire, so warm, so hypnotizing. She was the human embodiment of fire and he'd turned his gaze for a minute and everything was gone.

Oh, but she had the hair to match, scorching and fiery red hair that seemed to burn to the touch. Orange sunset locks, capturing the light in vibrant ruby hues, flowing in a cascade of curls of lava to her shoulders. He realized for the first time that he was in love with a woman that he knew nothing about.

She wasn't the same Ariel he'd known. Bits and pieces remained but as life as he'd known it had changed, so had she. All the good times they'd had together had never felt this far away to him as they did now.

The twenty years that had elapsed were no longer just an abstract timeline, they not only were real but felt as much.

A knock on the door came to intrude on Brandon's mesmeric encounter with the flame. He heard the sound coming from outside and had yet to detract his eyes from what was transfixing him. He'd not even parted from his leather jacket when he'd gotten here and had stayed in this position ever since.

"Yes?" He acknowledged, nonetheless, absentmindedly.

His eyelids were almost dropping, strangely overtaken by a sensation of appeasement. He was tempted to close his eyes but the door flew open and that marked the end of his lonesome moment. A smile immediately crept on his lips when his visitor came to view. He was exactly what he needed to turn his day around.

"Good god, what a joyful place!" Conran's voice detonated with sarcasm into the late afternoon air, breaking the silence as he took a look around him.

The windows were closed and the curtains had been pulled back, giving a cold doleful atmosphere to the room. He was used to seeing lugubrious areas but that one almost took the cake.

He glanced towards the only source of light in the small confined place before advancing towards his friend who had stopped playing with his lighter and had shoved it back in his pocket.

"Only thing that's missing are the gallows." He added, jokingly.

To that, the ex-FBI agent could only snicker in derision. Perhaps he would need to look into putting some touches of color here and there before his mind matched the darkness of his new home.

"It's good to see you, Nino." He confessed sincerely.

He'd started using this nickname when Juliet had been baptized. It was a derivation from 'godfather' in Latin languages and it was something that was simple to pronounce and that he had known his little one would easily be able to call him.

They'd settled on it the minute they'd first heard it and since then, Brandon had enjoyed calling him that. He was still his daughter's godfather and he saw no point in denying it or changing it for the sole reason that things were a little dense as of now.

"Are you sure you don't want to come live with me?" Conran asked.

He looked at his friend with both affection and admiration. He'd never know how he was able to cope with all the obstacles that were being thrown at him.

"No, I told you. Thank you but I need to be independent, I can't keep relying on people. In the long run, it won't do me any good." Brandon shrugged.

The Captain was snowed under a lot of work and he still had taken the time to visit him. He'd barely have time for a social life, so much that shaving had become optional and he'd let himself go physically even more than the last time he'd seen him.

That was one of the downsides to having a position that required so much responsibilities.

"The offer's still here if you change your mind."

He nodded in response.

Now that his attention was no longer occupied, his thoughts were beginning to bother him again. One of them in particular and he didn't waste time to bring up a question that he was desperate to know the answer of.

"You knew about Ariel." He pointed out in a half statement, half interrogation. "Hmm?"

A sigh escaped Conran's lips, hidden beneath his beard.

"She asked me not to say anything."

He felt guilt to admit that he had kept this information from one of the best friends he'd ever had but Ariel was also part of his social circle, he had been there for her and he had always been able to count on her as well, whenever he needed to.

He couldn't have betrayed her and he deemed that she'd know best. The honorable thing to do, in his opinion, was to respect her wishes.

"She wanted to find the right time."

The brown-haired grimaced. He pondered what he had just been told and then turned to look at his friend and gave him a fake smile.

"It worked."

"She was scared, you know. She was comfortable in her life and... the news kind of shook things up for her." The bigger man retorted.

His last intention was to make him feel responsible for the distress the redhead was feeling or for him to feel like a burden but he wasn't certain if he realized how big of an adjustment that had been for everybody involved.

And, on top of that, Juliet still had to return from her trip.

The next question Brandon wanted to ask frightened him. He gulped while his heart began to beat more rapidly at the mere thought of uttering it out loud. He knew that he wouldn't like the answer, regardless of what it was but he also refused to live a life where people, especially himself, shielded him from the truth so that he could avoid getting hurt.

He needed it for his own good, as ironic as that sounded.

"How long have they been together?" He closed his hand into a fist, bracing himself for what would soon grace his ears.

Conran hesitated briefly.

"11 years."

He watched the younger man's reaction attentively, uncertain as to how he was going to take the news. Time seemed to have frozen and the silence was almost unbearable. He wanted to ask him to say something, to cry, to yell, anything but not keeping whatever feelings he had repressed.

"I haven't even spent that much time with her." Brandon eventually broke his silence with a grimace, sadness detectable in his voice and tired features.

Eleven years. If anybody knew how fragile life was, it was him. And he was aware, more than anybody, how even the smallest fragment of a second could change your life forever.

If one simple second was enough to change the course of things, what could be said about one decade?

She'd spent over a decade with a man, getting to know him, letting him know her, building a new home, a family. They'd spent countless of times together, created more memories with one another than he could have dared to dream about and after all this time, he judged that their union had to be solid.

It was no wonder why she'd been so panicked at the idea of him being around her house. She had to have been scared that he'd ruin what they shared and wreak havoc.

To him, there seemed to be only one right option: going away. Keeping his distance would be doing her a favor and he made a mental note to leave her alone. The message was clear, she had no place for him in her life anymore and it wouldn't have surprised if her feelings for him were gone.

She'd always love him, that he was certain, the way you'd love someone who'd once mattered to you and who had been a huge part of your life. She'd always be thankful for him being the father of her daughter and for being her first love, for what they'd once shared was too damn good to forget.

She'd love him like you loved someone you had parted from in good terms. But would she still love him the way he loved her? Probably not.

"Listen, this isn't the only reason why I came."

Conran changed the subject with a sigh, just as Brandon ran a hand over his face.

He wasn't one to relish in melodramatic turns and things had already been disastrous enough, it wasn't the time to worsen them. He had an investigation to conduct and unfortunately, that came before his friend's love life, as insensitive as that was.

"I need you at the NYPD." He pursued.

At that, his friend could only furrow an eyebrow in astonishment. Had he heard him right?

"What for?" He asked, a moderate look of disdain upon his face.

During his episode at the police station, it had been made clear that his once important position in the hierarchy made no difference and would result in no special treatment and now, they wanted him?

"Victoria Reyes. The woman who was assaulted earlier."

"Uh-huh." He urged him to go on, reminiscing about the exchange he'd witnessed between the blonde woman and her real aggressor.

"Has she withdrawn her complaint?"

"Ah! Not really, no." The captain was quick to answer. He paused before drawing a breath.

"My team found her at her place, two hours ago, with a bullet in her head."

Brandon's heart sank at the news, his features darkened and the lines on his forehead made an apparition once more. She was a young woman, who had the rest of her life ahead of her. It was such a tragedy. Something that he could relate to as he'd lost a good part of his youth too.

Ironically, he knew all too well that not many were as lucky as him and he was among the very few who were able to get another shot at