The music flowed around her as she took step after graceful step around the room, arms moving in perfect motion. This was peace of mind. A pirouette and leap before she slid, wincing on the glass underfoot. The illusion shattered. Black overshadowed the painted walls, and the mirrors faded away. Lacey turned and shuddered as her world was destroyed by soot and disaster.

"You did this!" Her accusation hit the one other person in the room.

"No," Lucas wouldn't accept blame for this, not this time. "No, I didn't do this Lace." He took a few steps closer to her, avoiding the shards littering the floor.

"Why is it gone? You made it go away! I hate you."

The cold, calm tone the last words took sent a shiver through Lucas' body and a stab to his heart. His wife hated him for something he'd had no control over. Another step, and then another.

Lacey, on the other hand, backed away from him, across the glass and wincing as the ballet shoes she wore were cut yet again. She passed through what had been a wall of mostly mirrors effortlessly, but her arm and the lacy white dress she had on did not escape unscathed. The char from the burnt wallpaper as it dripped from the once-majestic walls scraped against her as she repeated herself. "Why is it gone?"

"There was a fire," he couldn't say it any simpler.

"No. No there was no fire. It was just here."

"There was, Lace. You just forgot for a moment." He wouldn't add the word he was thinking. "Again." She had forgotten again. His eyes stayed soft as he kept approaching her.

This time, she was frozen in the moment. A fire? When? How? Her body trembled as his arms finally reached her and wrapped around her shoulders. Lacey couldn't speak, but she did look at him with the tears of a mother who had just discovered their dead child.

"It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine. I would never hurt you, baby," he said, trying to comfort her, but instead, he lost her again as her gaze grew distant and she pulled away.

"You're wrong. There couldn't have been a fire. It was just the studio! And now it's gone," she argued, but Lacey's voice held no conviction. Lucas was her husband, that much she knew. He wouldn't lie to her.

"The fire was five months ago, Lacey," Lucas said, pulling her close and pressing his lips softly to her temple. "You went back in to make sure everyone was out. Everyone was safe, but you," he paused to still the shaking in his throat. He wouldn't cry. He had to be strong for her.

"Hello? You can't be in here sir," an officer said as he walked into the condemned building. The man frowned. "Who were you talking to?"

Her body faded, just as the mirrors had, and Lucas was left standing alone on broken glass. "N-nobody."

'Her ghost'