Art Imitates Life

Disclaimer: I do not own Sanctuary.

"Do you like them?"

The roses were white and steeped in symbolism. White roses were pure. Innocent. Like their love. Only she made him feel so, even if it was a lie. In truth, John was warped to the core, but Helen somehow made him a gentleman.

She had nodded politely and thanked him enthusiastically for his gift. They were a trite offering and not nearly as interesting as their research, but roses were traditional for courtship.

The vase sat on Helen's desk in public view of the world until the day it all ended. As their relationship violently broke apart, the roses also wilted; petals floating down and scattering like wounded ghosts.

The roses decayed along with their relationship as an almost perfect snapshot.