Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger saga.

WARNING: Spoiler if you haven't finished reading/watching Petals on the Wind.

A/N: Hi there! Thank you for checking out my story. I'm clearly a big fan of the Dollanganger saga, and I've always wondered what could have happened if Bart hadn't died in the fire. Would he have stayed with Corrine? Ran off with Cathy? Found a way to balance the two? I'm also a big Corrine fan, so I wanted to write about the situation from her POV and share some of the emotions I'm sure she had.

So, without further ado, here's the start of my story, so please read, enjoy, and review! This will be a multi-chapter fic, so if you have any suggestions, please let me know and I'll think them over! :)

- M. Rhae


Ashes on a Flame

1

Ablaze

She screamed just then, her voice wild, high-pitched, and completely uncontrolled. Never had Corrine ever screamed like that. From an early age, she had been taught to be completely prim and proper. Her voice was to always be soft and musical, and she was never to scream and shout like an uncouth barbarian.

But at that moment, she was a barbarian. Her entire life had been barbaric. There stood her daughter, her beautiful, spiteful daughter, and there stood her handsome, unfaithful husband. Oh, how she loved him, her powerful attorney! They'd been in love from the moment they first laid eyes on each other all that time ago, and his heart rang true to her still. She knew that it did! They were made for each other!

Of course Corrine had noticed Bart's change of behavior, but she never thought the explanation would be something as complex as this. She never thought Cathy would follow them to Virginia with the sole intention of inflicting as much pain as humanly possible on the woman who had given birth to her; she never thought it possible for her daughter to be filled with such hatred for her. Vaguely, Corrine wondered how many times Bart had slept with Cathy when she was away on one of her trips, and she wondered how long Cathy had held the pregnancy against him. More importantly, she wondered how Cathy could possibly subject an unborn child to this morally corrupt drama, and she wondered how she could possibly look at the child as both her grandson and her step-son.

It was simply all too much. Had Corrine raised her own child to be so vindictive and malicious? Where had she gone wrong? Hadn't she hugged and kissed Cathy enough when she was a baby? Hadn't she given her everything money could buy? The very thought of this betrayal pained her beyond feeling, but in the end, Corrine knew where she had gone wrong, though she also knew that she couldn't have helped it.

Without thinking, without feeling, Corrine ran – all the way up the stairs in the North Wing. She felt her heart beating faster and harder in her chest, and she saw the red edges of her dress fly through the air with each stride. But she didn't care, and she didn't stop until she reached that small, dimmed bedroom with the adjoining bath and the stairway closet that led to the attic.

Memories washed over her, threatening to consume her, but Corrine took a deep breath and turned the knob, now unlocked and open as no one else had use for that old, wretched room.

Dank air greeted her, and she closed her eyes, pretending to see her four Dresdon Dolls smiling up at her. She could almost hear Cory's gleeful cry of "Momma" and could almost feel Carrie's arms wrapping around her waist, and if she focused hard enough, she could almost certainly remember the feeling of raw, unwavering love pouring through her heart as she gazed down at her babies.

Up in the attic, those paper flowers were still spinning on their strings. Corrine tugged one loose. It was purple and red, so she knew that it had been Carrie's. Everything of Carrie's had been purple and red, including the color of her face and the color of her draining blood when she had poisoned herself with that arsenic-laced doughnut.

With that, Corrine struck her match and set it ablaze, dropping it on a stack of paper and retreating down the stairs as the fire began to spread downward, leaving behind a single, dust-flecked tear.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Back downstairs, Corrine couldn't find Bart. He wasn't in the main hall chatting with guests, and he wasn't in the kitchen directing the servants on what to do. Was he still in the library? Was he still with her?

Then she saw him, and most of all, she saw his hand resting on her waist and his mouth pressed closely to her ear.

"Bart! Bart!"

"Corrine! Where are you?"

"I'm here!" Their eyes locked, and he came to her, running until he reached her and stopping only to briefly take her hand. "Go out one of the back entrances! I'm going to make sure the rest of the guests evacuate safely."

What about my mother? The thought flashed quickly through Corrine's mind, but almost instantly, it evaporated. She squeezed his hand and watched as he bolted over to the front entrance, yelling instructions and grabbing a servant to help him direct the guests to alternate exits. He was really quite something, Corrine noted, and with tears starting to brim at her ducts, she realized that she didn't know what she would ever do without him.

People started brushing by her then, screaming and shouting with the fear of God reflected in their eyes, and Corrine knew that she had to escape before all the exits were blocked by her guests. It wouldn't take long for the fire to spread through the wooden structures of the house.

As for her mother, Corrine thought, stealing away to an empty lounge and heading toward the sliding bookshelf, she didn't care what happened to her. Perhaps someone would save her, and perhaps someone wouldn't. Her eyes flashing, Corrine smiled and silently prayed that everyone would forget about the lying, conniving hag who caused every ounce of misery that Corrine had ever experienced.

Running through the underground tunnels leading to the wide garden, Corrine wondered where Cathy and Chris went. Did they make it out safely? Did Bart show them how to get out? Oh, how she hoped they weren't still stuck inside the place they'd inhabited for so long yet were never able to see! How she prayed for them to get out and breathe the fresh night air that she herself had denied them!

Was that fair, then? Stepping out of the entrance and making her way to the front of the house, watching it blaze and burn, Corrine couldn't help but question her own motives. She couldn't bear the thought of letting her children burn down with Foxworth Hall, but she could justify her own mother crumbling down in its ashes? Just as she criticized Cathy for wanting some vindictive revenge on her mother, now Corrine acted in spite and malice against the woman who gave birth to her?

"My mother! She's in there! She can't move!" Corrine couldn't help it; the words blurted out before she could even think. The woman was her mother, and like Corrine always wanted from her own children, she wouldn't give up on her mother. Despite the vile, wicked things that she did, Olivia Foxworth gave birth to Corrine, and for that she should at least be grateful enough to save her life. Wouldn't Corrine ask the same of Cathy?

But as soon as she cried out, she spotted Bart at the door, freezing. Utter horror consumed Corrine as she saw Bart glance behind him back at the house, and before he could do anything, before she could lose him, Corrine darted forward.

She flicked off her heels and ran full speed ahead toward her husband, ignoring the mob of people crowded in front of her. Her eyes were trained solely on Bart, and as he moved forward to enter the mansion once more, Corrine flung herself in the air and crashed directly into him.

"What – Corrine?" Dazed, Bart sat up, and Corrine threw her arms around him, tears flooding her vision. She sobbed as she pulled him to her and held him tightly, and all the while, she was aware of everyone watching them and the too-close cackling of the fire. Also, she was aware of another person running past them and dashing into the burning house, but she frankly didn't care enough to even look.

"Don't go, Bart," she pleaded, straightening up and looking him straight in the eye. She grabbed his hand, hanging onto it. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me, Bart. I need you."

He held her gaze for a moment and then sighed, bowing his head and pulling her up with him. He wound his arm gently around her waist. "We need to get her out, Corrine. Tell the firefighters so they can –"

Before he could finish, the frame of the front doorway fell through and cascaded down onto the pavement, barely missing them. He pulled her off the cement and ushered her over to the grass, shouting something Corrine couldn't hear to a fireman before coming back to her side. She leaned against his chest and looked across the lawn at Cathy.

Those cerulean blue eyes were locked intensely with Corrine's matching pair, and Corrine felt a chill run down her spine. The look nestled in Cathy's eyes wasn't of hatred or of malice – it was of gratitude. Cathy was grateful that Corrine had saved Bart; she was thankful that he didn't dive into the seething flames to save her old, disabled grandmother who had whipped her and who had poured tar all over her long, silky blonde hair.

"Oh, Bart," she whispered, her thoughts and fears speaking aloud for themselves. He leaned in closer to hear what she would say, but she merely shook her head, her eyes now watching how Cathy clung to Chris's side and how she cuddled Jory close to her breast. "I don't know what to do."