It's dark. Inky, pitch blackness all around. And quiet. The silence is deafening.

I never really understood the meaning of that phrase until now. The sound of nothing is so very, very loud.

I can't hear the air entering my lungs or the pounding of blood through my ears. Sounds I never noticed until they're conspiciously missing.

There's nothing here, no wind, no rain, no voices, no movement. Just blackness. Not like the endlessness I saw when I closed my eyes and there's a neverending expanse of dark. It's not like that, its a suffocating curtain, heavy and thick, that's caught hold of me. It's in me. I am the dark silence.

Such a stark and radical change from just seconds ago. The fear was so real, I felt it with every nerve in my body. The heat of the raging inferno closing in around me from all sides was sending icy panic shooting through my veins, all that is gone now, faded into oblivion.

I don't feel the lick of flames on my heated skin, nor the lifeless body I held tightly in my grasp just seconds ago. The acidic smell of smoke is no longer gagging me, weakening me.

The high pitched screaming can no longer be heard over the roar of flames and the cracking of wood as the fire fed on it. Nor can I hear the crash of wooden beams and the distant wail of sirens approaching...

Approaching too late.

I stand wide eyed, ashen streakes run down my cheeks and I wait. I pace back and forth. Three steps to the right, three back to the left, never moving my eyes from the appartment building twenty feet away from me. The apartment building that I'd been safely sleeping in ten minutes ago. The apartment building that is currently being consumed by angry red and yellow flames, smoke billowing up into the dark evening sky.

A shadow flickers in the door way and hope shoots through me, the air in my lungs pauses. Staring intently at the door, I search for his broad figure. Nothing. I stand there and hope he'll appear for a few seconds longer, then I resume my pacing. Three steps to the right, three to the left.

"Damn you, Pacey." I mutter under my breath, fear and anxciety giving way to another emotion. Anger.

"You had to go back in, didn't you! Stupid, stupid hero complex." I unconciously play with the ring on my right hand, the ring he gave me. The gravity of the situation is just begining to sink in.

We'd been watching TV in Doug's living room early this evening, I feel asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around me as the day gave way to night. I woke up feeling unconfortably warm, and the smell of smoke brought me fully awake. My memories from the fire at the Ice House a year before instantly cascaded on my senses, inspiring an immediate flight response.

Quickly, I woke Pacey, his groggy barely awake face, endearing to me even then. Within seconds he was awake. I reached out for the handle without thinking, and badly burnt my palm.

Funny, now, I can barely feel the pain, it's the least of my worries at the moment.

I started to panic then, but Pacey calmly took me to the window, finding it painted shut, he threw a lamp through it. Carefully, he climbed out first and then helped me through, mindful of my injured hand. We rushed away from the building to the safety of the street, where a small crowd of neighbors were gathering. From there we could see the full extent of the fire.

The first floor, where we had been, seemed relativly unharmed, except for the smoke billowing out the main enterance and the occasional flicker of flame visable through the smoke. The second and third floors were visably engulfed in flames. Smoke and fire climbed the aged walls, reaching up for the sky, casting an angry red glow on the smoke and heavy rain clouds hanging above.

Our eyes met, wide with shock. He looked around, assessing the croud of on lookers. He met my eyes again, and I cringed. I knew that look, the determination and valor shining in their dark blue depths. "I have to go back," he told me softly, the light of the fire gave him an ethereal glow.

"No." I protested, taking hold of his arm with my good hand.

"Joey, there's a family in there!" He said ernestly, pointing back at the building. "I can't leave them to die in there."

"And you can't sacrifice your life for theirs either, Pacey! Please." I pleaded with him, gripping his arm tightly.

"I have to, Joey." He said, conviction in his voice. He took my hand from his sleeve. "I'll be right back, I promise."

"No, you don't!" I yelled.

"Yes, I do." He replied. "I couldn't live with myself if I sat back and watched them die knowing I could have done something."

"Then I'm coming too." I replied, stepping forward.

"No, you can't. If something happened to you...Bessie would die, Jo. She couldn't survive losing you and your mom. You're all she has left of your family." I looked down, knowing his words to be the truth. "I'll be right back. I promise."

"And if something happened to you I would die! Please, Pacey. Please, don't go." I pleaded, gripping his arm tightly. "I couldn't live if you got hurt in there." He hugged me to him, burying his face in my hair.

"I love you, Josephine." He whispered into my ear.

"No, Pacey, No..." I begged him, trying to hold him tightly as he squirmed out of my arms. "Please, no. Pacey!" I reached after him as he pulled away. "Pacey!" He retreated, heading back to the unbearable heat, the collar of his shirt pulled up over his mouth.

"Pa-cey!" I sobbed his name in hopelessness. One of the neighbors came to my side. I shrugged her off impatiently and took a few more steps towards the building he had dissapeared into. From there, my pacing began.

Two steps to the left, two the right, then two more back to the left.

"Joey! We came as soon as we heard." A welcomed voice catches my attension. I turn to find Jen, with Dawson standing just over her shoulder.

"Pacey?"

A simple question, with a not-so simple answer. Dawson's eyes are already searching the crowd.

The tears I was trying so hard to keep from falling cascade down my ashen cheeks. I shake my head slowly, the tears clinging to my eyelashes. "He's still inside," I choke out passed the thick lump in my throat. Jen's instantly at my side, watching the door with the same rapt attention I just was. She reaches for my hand and I gasp and jerk it away from the sharp pain that shoots up my arm.

Dawson shoots me a questioning look and I lift my hand to show him. "I burnt it." I pause, "He went back in after the Herrons upstairs." I explain in answer to their silent question. "I tried to stop him, I swear I did." I can feel the tears burning in the back of my throat, "but he wouldn't listen."

They nod, silently watching the door for any sign of him. We are oblivious to the crowd of neighbors, townspeople and friends that have congregated behind us. Worry, fear, anger and adrenalin are coursing through my veins. Dread has grown in the pit of my stomach. Dark and black, exapanding into my chest and clawing at my heart with it's icy fingers. It grows malignantly, closing in on my windpipe, causing my breathing to come in short, rapid gasps. It moves up my spine, draining my face of all color and causing my scalp to tingle. A tremble shudders through my body, each muscle contracting at once. The evening cold is suddenly in me, a part of me. "Pacey." His name falls from my lips in a whisper.

Seconds later the fire trucks arrive, working their way through the crowds of people swarming around the burning building. The volunteer firemen urge them back while they drag the fire hose to the nearest hydrant. Three of the men pull on maskes, before jogging in through the main doors. Seconds later the remaining firemen are lined up with the hose in their arms, water is streaming up to the windows and walls. A few more are preparing another hose to go into the building. Tentative relief floods through me. Help has arrived. They'll force Pacey to come back to me. They'll get him. But the uneasy feeling from moments before hasn't left.

A minute later, I catch a glimpse of yellow through the clouds of black smoke billowing from the main door. Then another, for certain this time. It's one of the fireman, another following him, pulled along by the first. They remove their masks once they're a sufficient distance from danger. They speak hurridly with the others, glancing worriedly back at the door. A flash of yellow, then another. The first two firemen run back to the building to help the third man who'd just appeared.

"What-what are they doing?" I ask, the fear weakening my voice. I shift my gaze back and forth from Jen to Dawson. "They're supposed to get Pacey." I turn my tear filled eyes back to the building. "They're supposed to get him." I repeat, tears of terror and frustration sting my eyes. "They have to get Pacey." I choke out passed the lump in my throat.

A sharp crack sounds loudly over the wail of sirens and roaring flames. Every person freezes, their eyes immediatly fly to the historical building. It appears to happen in slow motion. Even as I scream his name, the windows on the second floor that hadn't already broken, burst, raining shards of glass down onto the sidewalk. The walls shudder under the stress, all at once it begins to sink in on itself. The top two floors sway, the bottom braced to swallow the two above it. The sickening sounds of wood breaking and bricks grinding against each other fills the air. The orange light of the flames illuminates the destruction, holding the observers entraped in the scene.

There's a moment of eery stillness after the first floor meets the second and third. Flames shoot up into the sky as they feed on newly exposed lumber. Their feast lasts mere moments before the walls of the second floor fall in on themselves, the third shook violently under the stress, it's walls rupturing in the wake of the second crash.

The silence is thick, chocking the breath from the shocked onlookers. The pause is momentary, but the five minutes it took for the building to come down felt like an enternity for me. My heart seemes to take up permantent residence in my throat. The silence stretches on for hours...my blood aches in my veins, my lungs burn for lack of air, I can't breathe. He's in there...under all that rubble...buried alive. The shock is alive in my every nerve.

Knees weak, I reach out an arm for Dawson, bracking myself on his shoulder. The firemen quickly put out the remaining flames that flicker in the darkness. The orange light that was bathing the neighborhood has dissapeared, casting the crowd back into the night. I grip Dawson firmly, as though if I hold him tight enough Pacey will come back. He will. He has to.

An ambulance arrived with the fire turcks and the paramedics are working their way through the crowd. "Miss?" one asks me, taking my injured hand in his to examine. I watch him through hollow eyes. Who was he? His words and movements don't register in my mind. Every few seconds my eyes dart to the destroyed building and the firemen clamoring over the ashes and rubble as they put out the hot spots...and look for survivors.

Dawson's talking to me, so is the paramedic. I ignore them. There's nothing they can say that I'd want to hear. It isn't until the paramedic tries to lead me to the ambulance that I even become aware of him. I blalk, shaking my head and pulling away from him.

"Please Miss." The man says, slipping an arm around my shoulders to urge me to the ambulance. "We need to get you checked out."

"No." I protest, moving away from his touch.

"Joey, you need to get your hand treated," Dawson says. He hopes to get me away from the scene. He thinks it wont do me any good to wait here to hear the news.

"No, Dawson!" I protest, drawing Jen's attension.

"Jo, maybe it's better if you go." She says gently.

"I have to wait for Pacey," I say with determination in my eyes.

Jen and Dawson exchange concerned looks over my head. The paramedic moved on, "I'll be back," he says looking me in the eyes, leaving me with my two friends.

"Joey," Dawson says, a warning in his voice. He tries to lead me away.

"No, no!" I cry, "I have to wait for Pacey!" I pull away.

"He's not coming back-" Jen says sofltly.

"Fuck off, Jen!" I yell, "He's coming back! He promised!" She looks away from me, unable to meet my agony filled eyes.

"I think we should go." Dawson urges.

"No, Dawson!" I say and move towards the building. "I have to help him. He promised he'd come back! He promised!" Tear's burn their way down my cheeks like the flames that consumed the apartment building. I try to push past Dawson, "I need him!" My sobs break in between the words, and Dawson does his best to hold me back. I tremble as he tries to hold me, and beat my fists against his chest. "I need him, damn it! Dawson, I need him!" I scream, "He promised he'd come back! He said he'd come back! I love him! Let me go!! I have to get to him, Dawson. Let me go! I need him!" I writhe out of his grasp and take off at a run to the burnt remains of the rubble.

Tears came to Jen's eyes as she witnesses my desperation. Sadly she follows Dawson as he runs after me. I climb up into the crumpled building, ignoring the shouts from the firefighters trying to stop me. I'm crying his name over and over, searching through blurred eyes for any sign of him.

"Come on, Joey." Dawson approaches me, taking my arm and trying to pull me away. "He's gone."

I straightened and turned to face him, my eyes fierce. "He's not. Pacey's coming back, he promised! He said he loved me!" My tears fell fresh. The anger left my voice when I spoke again, "He said he loved me."

My knees give out and Dawson sinks to the ground with me. We crouch there amoung the wooden beams, bricks, charred furnature and ashes. Jen rests a hand on my shaking shoulders as I cling to Dawson. The clouds that were threatening rain for the last week overflow, cleansing the air of smoke. The raindrops blend in with our tears. The sky shares the misery of the brokenhearted.