Disclaimer: I am not Patricia C. Wrede. I wish I was, though... 's a wicked cool name.

Summary: Kate has always been told that if you play with fire, you end up burnt.

Warning: pyromania, in a way…

Pairing: Kate/Thomas

Author's Note: I felt sorry for the "Sorcery and Cecilia" fans out there with nothing to read… and my other S and C fics haven't been Kate/Thomas. So, I wrote this.

Phoenix

When she was a little girl, her aunts always told Kate not to play with matches. "Fire burns, dear," they tried to explain, oh so prosaically, "and getting burnt hurts." Maybe it did hurt them, poor shriveled maidenly things, but Kate always felt that the rush and quietly personal roar of the lit match were worth the risk.

When she first saw him, she felt drawn to Thomas: the moth to his proverbial flame. They say every fire burns brightest just before it goes out. Thomas burned brighter than any other man she had had ever seen. She had to have him. She wanted the rush of heat and light that was Thomas, needed to hear the roar of the consuming fire in her ears. So Kate got him. She got her flame; she didn't even need to light a match and set him afire.

But they lied. Thomas didn't burn out. He kept on burning, kept on shining, stayed on fire.

But they told the truth. Fire burns, whichever way you look at it, and Kate got hurt. She got burnt. She burned until she was nothing but ash.

But she didn't mind rising form the ashes to chase down the flames again.

-finis-

Please, I love all criticism, constructive or not. And I'd love to hear from all of you!

-Seri