A/N: Firstly, I know I haven't updated my other story ("It Must Be Love"), but I'm seriously battling writer's block. But while I was trying to come up with ideas on how to continue that story, I thought up another idea for an entirely new story. I know I'm being bad, but I have no intention of abandoning "It Must Be Love". Secondly, I want to forewarn you all that this story will be quite angsty and melodramatic. Sooo, if that isn't your cup of tea, I recommend you get your "That 70's Show" fix elsewhere. Thirdly, please please please leave reviews; they do wonders for my self-confidence as a writer. FINALLY, I'D LIKE TO MAKE A SHOUT-OUT TO MY LOVELY BETA READER, jwoo2525!

Kudos, if you actually read all the way through that annoyingly and seemingly endless intro.

Disclaimer: I own nothing - not even Steven Hyde or "Angeleyes" by ABBA (lol). "Save Me" by Queen inspired the title of this story (I highly recommend listening to the song before reading!)

Chapter 1

(Evening; at the water tower)

It kept playing over and over in her head like a broken record.

...

Steven had admitted to her he wasn't ready to be married, yet.

Yet. And that single word had given Jackie hope - hope that she and Steven would be all right.
That after all the hell they had experienced in the past two years, she and Steven would make it.

They'd start anew, and eventually they'd marry like she always knew they would.
Maybe not now, maybe not for another couple years but someday.

But just as she had begun to hear those wedding bells, a skimpily-clad blonde skank (a tube top in December? Really? THAT SLUT!) had strutted in, claiming Steven as her own - as her husband.

And just like that, all remaining hope for Jackie and Steven dwindled into black nothingness. She knew then that he would never be hers again.
...

Jackie shivered and fought back the unshed tears as snow began falling more heavily. She wasn't sure how long she'd been up at the water tower. Maybe an hour, maybe longer.

After she had run out of the Forman's, Jackie had packed her bags in a frenzy, ready to skip town and leave the shattered remains of her broken heart in Point Place. It was only after she had slammed the front door shut with a mighty conviction that Jackie realized she had absolutely nowhere to go.

But in desperate need of sanctuary from her increasing madness, Jackie Burkhart, gripping a monogrammed designer suitcase in each hand, walked and walked until she could no more. And to her own surprise, Jackie had found herself atop the old, dingy water tower and since then had watched the snow fall with a wretched fury to match her own.

As she sat mesmerized by the flurries of white around her, Jackie found herself humming a familiar tune.

"Look into his angel eyes," she sang faintly, "one look and you're hypnotized."

Around her, snow fell unrelentingly and deepened her torment.

Again blinking back the tears, she continued. "He'll take your heart and you must pay the price, look into his angel eyes."

Jackie felt numb. She could now hardly feel the fingers that were wrapped around her arms. As her eyes shifted to her expensive designer suitcases, she saw that they were slowly being cloaked in white. Looking down at her feet, she noticed that her expensive designer boots were nearly veiled as well.

For a moment, Jackie considered dusting the snow off before her beautiful Italian leather boots could be ruined. But as she looked down to admire them once more, she scoffed bitterly at herself. What did brand-name suitcases and boots matter? They couldn't save her now.

"You'll think you're in paradise and one day you'll find out he wears a disguise," she pressed on hoarsely.

Jackie inhaled sharply, struggling to finish her rendition as the familiar lump crept back into her throat. "Don't look too deep into those angel eyes..."

But she had looked too deeply into those blue eyes of his.
He had taken her heart. And, now she would pay the price.

Fully giving into her brokenness, she finally let loose the sobs that had been fighting for release. As the tears fell faster and harder, Jackie felt her body convulse maniacally, taunted by the memories of Steven and tortured by the reality of Sam. One final sob escaped her when a sudden blast of frosty air hit her. She gasped at the sudden contact that shocked the entirety of her petite frame.

Suddenly, feeling quite exhausted and oddly at peace, Jackie resigned herself to the blanket of snow, feeling much too tired to cry anymore. She closed her eyes, letting the cold sensation of the falling snowflakes numb her as she began to hum the familiar tune once more.

Darkness was approaching, and all Jackie wanted to do was sleep.
Because to sleep was to forget. To sleep was to suspend.
To sleep was to escape. SLEEP.

(1 hour ago at the Forman residence)

"We got married," the blonde announced, matter-of-factly.

Married?

At once, he heard Jackie gasp sharply beside him. But before he could reassure the brunette (or himself) that this was all clearly a very bad dream, he saw his ex-girlfriend bolt from the room, never once looking back at him.

Married? There was no way this was fucking real. This was a very bad dream, the worst dream. This was a nightmare. He just needed someone to wake him up. WAKE UP.

"Oh, my gosh," Kitty whispered loudly into her mic. "Eric, Steven got married...to an exotic dancer from Las Vegas!"

As Mrs. Forman broke into awkward laughter, Hyde woke up from his stupor, but he wasn't sighing in relief that the shit that had just unfolded had been a twisted figment of his imagination. Nope, he was still there sitting on the Forman couch. And Sam was still there, staring at him, waiting for him to say something. And the all-too-familiar look of expectation in her eyes that he had seen countless times in a certain brunette filled him with overpowering nausea.

He slipped back into a daze as the stripper-no, exotic dancer as she insisted - slung her arms around him. She seemed to be asking him something, but he couldn't make the words out nor did he care to. All he knew was he had to get the hell out of there.

Hyde rushed out of the room, charged through the kitchen, and slid into the El Camino.

"Fuck," he muttered, fumbling with his keys. He couldn't be sure if it was the cold from the brewing snowstorm outside that accounted for his shivering, but his fingers would not stop shaking.

"Where do you think you're going, dumbass?"

"Damn it." Hyde sighed at the familiar voice, dropping the keys that his numb fingers couldn't quite grasp. He stared silently ahead as Red Forman slid into the seat next to him.

"So, Kitty just told me you got yourself married in Vegas and had no idea until now," Red grumbled, shaking his head. "What a dumbass!"

"You can say that again," Hyde muttered. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"What's wrong with you, Steven, is that you go and pull dumb stunts without thinking about the consequences!" Red barked. "Like getting married to a stranger just because you had assumed the worst about your best friend and your girlfriend."

"Red, I wasn't assuming, I know for a fact that-" Hyde interjected defensively.

"Shut it! All you know for a fact is that you didn't bother to check the facts. But that's not the point here."

Frustrated and desperate, Hyde finally turned to face Red. "Well, then what is?"

"The point is that you're married, son." Letting out an agitated sigh, Red continued, "Now what are you going to do about it?"

Hyde's response was a strangled laugh. What was he going to do about it? Like hell he knew the answer to that question.

"Since you obviously don't know, I'm going to tell you," Red stated flatly. "You're going to do the right thing."

"...What if I don't know what the right thing is?"

Red paused a moment, surprised at his surrogate son's sudden frankness.

"You know what the right thing is, Steven. You know."

"Yeah, I have to stay married and be responsible for my act-" Steven answered, resigning to the inevitable truth.

"No, no, you moron," Red interrupted, becoming more and more exasperated by Hyde's stupidity. "The right thing is to be with the gal you love." He quickly cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed by the sentiment behind his own words.

Hyde turned in surprise to the only man he ever really thought of as his father.

"Sometimes," Red continued gravely, "the right thing is not to accept the crap that life throws at you but to fight for what you want." He paused for a moment, letting Hyde mull over his words.

"So, what is it that you want?"

Hyde trudged back into the Forman living room, his clothes and boots covered in frozen white flakes. He knew what he had come to do, but could he actually do it? Could he be man enough to admit his mistake and set things right?

"Hyde, where'd you go? I can't believe you would just leave me like that, again," Sam whined. "I mean, I come all the way from Vegas to get my husband back, and he walks out on me like I'm some random whore!"

He looked at her with guilt as he seated himself next to her. He glanced around him, grateful that Mrs. Forman and her mic was nowhere to be found.

"Look Sam, I don't really know where to begin, but I think we both made a mistake here."

"What do you mean, a mistake? Are you talking about our marriage? Don't worry, Hyde! Everything was done completely legally," the blonde gushed, edging closer to him.

"No, what I mean is that I think you made a mistake marrying me, and I know I made a mistake marrying you," he stated. "I was angry about things, and I needed an outlet. So, I went to Vegas, and you know the rest. Look, all I'm saying is that we both don't want this marriage."

Sam's smile began to falter. "Well, what if I do?" she demanded.

"Why, Sam? You hardly know me. You don't love me, so why marry me?"

The blonde stared back at him quizzically. "What's love got to do with it? We had an amazing night together in Vegas, didn't we?"

Hyde stood up from the couch, suddenly annoyed by her vapidity and sickened by the memory of that one-night stand.

"What the hell do you mean, Sam? Marriage is not something you just do for kicks. You get married, because you love someone!" Hyde retorted.

"Wow, Hyde. I didn't know you could be so sensitive. Back in Vegas, you hardly said a word about anything, let alone love. I mean, I had to drag your drunken ass to the altar, and even then, you only agreed to marriage because of my great rack," Sam ranted bitterly. "You married me, Hyde. You agreed to this marriage, no matter how drunk you were. You agreed to this marriage, because deep down, you want me!"

"NO! I don't want you! I don't love you! I can't be married to you!" he shouted back, desperately. "It wasn't supposed to be you! It was never supposed to be you!"

"It was never supposed to be you," he repeated, his voice now hoarse with exhaustion. He crumpled back onto the couch, burying his head in his hands.

The busty blonde stared back at him, shocked by his outburst. She finally stood up and stuck her cosmetically enhanced nose high up into the air. She was a woman after all, and she would be lying if she said that his reaction to their marriage didn't hurt her pride at all.

"Fine, Hyde. I don't have to sit here and take this shit. I want an annulment, you jackass!" she screeched. Picking up her suitcases, Samantha began to head for the door. But, she paused in her steps and sauntered back toward him.

For a moment, Hyde thought she was going to continue her verbal tirade. Needless to say, he wasn't prepared for the crack of a slap to his left cheek that knocked his sunglasses-the ultimate token of his zen and coolness-off his face.

Too stunned to form words, Hyde simply watched her storm out the front door in a huff.

Samantha -stripper (ahem, exotic-dancer), airhead temptress, and soon-to-be ex-wife- had left the building.

Remembering his sunglasses she had knocked off so vindictively, Hyde reached down to the floor. But as he raised them to his face, he was taken aback by his own mirroring reflection.

The face he saw was one he hadn't seen in a long time. The man in the tiny reflection was grinning unabashedly like an idiot.

But Hyde didn't give a damn about the fact that his ridiculously sentimental grin was beginning to look akin to that of Forman's. For the first time in a long time, the smoky haze was clearing up, and he could finally see the light. He lowered the sunglasses back down and, with great resolve, tossed them onto the coffee table.

Zen and coolness meant nothing to him now - not with a certain brunette on his mind.

(simultaneously, at the Pinciotti residence)

"Donna! I need to talk to you right now!"

Donna looked up from the novel she had been reading, surprised at the sound of Kitty Forman's voice echoing in the hallway outside her room.

"Mrs. Forman, what's going on?" she asked, as the petite woman charged in. She knew something was wrong. Kitty Forman was looking very anxious.

"Donna, something very bad has happened!"

Donna inhaled sharply, fearing the worst. "Did something happen to Eric?"

"No, no...it's just...Steven got married!" Kitty blurted.

"WHAT?"

The redhead nearly fell off her bed. "Mrs. Forman, HOW do you know this?"

"I know this, because he is sitting in the living room right now with some woman he married in Vegas. Oh my gosh, this is all my fault! I should have hired a private detective to look for him weeks ago!" Kitty bemoaned. "How dare that Vegas tramp take advantage of my little Steven!"

Donna shook her head, desperately trying to make sense of the news. Hyde - married? How could she make sense of that?

"Mrs. Forman, how could Hyde be married?" she demanded. "He nearly killed himself a couple months ago when Ja-"

Donna froze, suddenly remembering the little but very important detail that had escaped her.

"Oh my gosh, does Jackie know?"

Kitty grimaced, nodding fretfully. "Jackie was talking with Steven when that scarlet woman waltzed into my living room, and that's why I'm here. Donna, you have to go and comfort Jackie. I bet that poor girl's a mess right now. I sure am!"

Donna nodded as a myriad of emotions sifted through her head.

Incredible grief for her best friend who had been hurt countlessly. Pitiless anger at her other best friend who had done the hurting. And overwhelming fear that things wouldn't ever be the same again.

She quickly grabbed her coat and headed out of the house, gasping at the icy chill that immediately greeted her.

"Just hold on Jackie, I'm on my way," Donna prayed as she drove her dad's van into the swirling mass of white.