Half past four.

I'll drop by.

Her voice rings through his ears.

I'll drop by.

Drop by.

She's all he can think about.

He steps towards the door.

It's his gateway- his pathway to her.

To O'Hara.

His O'Hara.

Then Karen stops him.

Abigail's a civilian, she says.

They have to go for her.

But it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

Out the door and to the car.

He's barely aware of Guster getting in.

He zooms out of the parking lot

and to the clocktower.

The clocktower.

He slams the door and

sprints towards the tower.

He runs to the elevator.

It's out of order.

Out of order.

He takes the stairs.

Twenty flights of stairs.

Five hundred stairs between him and

O'Hara.

His O'Hara.

He races up, his heart pounding like

a million sets of drums. He counts the stairs in his head.

They must get to the top to

stop the clock.

The ticking clock.

Through the door and there she is

Staring out and beyond at her death.

He calls her name. She looks around with her beautiful

blue eyes,

tearful, frightened eyes.

His mind is racing faster than the clock.

He has to stop the blade,

Stop the fall.

Save her life.

Her precious life.

He jams the gears.

"Did it work?"

Because, if it didn't, he's willing

to do anything.

Anything.

He puts his hand on her shoulder.

"We got you," he says. "We got you."

They lift her up.

She walks away.

Away.

Hours later, he hears her voice.

Raised and hysterical.

Something snaps in his brain-

Help her.

Protect her.

He walks towards her,

shoves the guy aside.

Then it's just him and her.

His partner.

His princess.

She says she's okay, but her eyes betray her.

She's fine on the outside,

broken on the inside.

She needs him.

Needs him.

He takes her hand, speaking to her softly like he would a wounded animal.

She brushes him off.

She says she's

fine,

perfectly fine.

But he knows her.

He knows the truth.

"It's fine not to be okay," he says, and

she breaks.

Breaks.

He holds her close. Every tear that falls,

every tear she cries

touches his heart. Burns his heart,

because he loves her.

Loves her.

Her sobs break his heart. He holds her in

his arms, rocking her and crooning to her,

saying that it'll be okay.

Because he know it will be, eventually.

Eventually.

He feels tears come to his own eyes as he feels her head pressed

against his shoulder, her little sobs coming out in gasps.

And now he's crying, holding her, and crying.

He almost lost her.

He could've lost her.

The way he whispers her name as he rocks her becomes like a lullaby.

"Juliet, Juliet, it's gonna be okay. I love you, Juliet."

She listens to his words and he listens

to the ones that aren't there.

Aren't there.

She falls asleep listening to the lullaby-like sound of her first name,

and he holds her, kissing the top of her head and holding her against him.

She's like a flower- beautiful to behold, strong while it grows, but so easily breakable

in a storm.

The storm of life.

They stand on the tower together, the sun rising above them.

He holds her close, holds her tight.

He doesn't want to lose her again.

Juliet.

His Juliet.