Title: The world will unfold all around us
Summary: Alison settles back into rosewood and discovers that maybe some things are meant to be, but only the second time around. Emily/Alison.
Pairings: Emily/Allison [Emison], mentions of past Emily/Paige and the current canon pairings for the other Liars: Spencer/Toby, Aria/Angst/Ezra, Hanna/Travis.
Spoilers: S4.
Warnings: None.
Author's note:
I wanted to write Humor/Romance. What wanted to be written was, apparently, some sort of Ali/Liars feelings fest. Anyway. The Humor/Romance is (probably) coming, I promise. If you have the time, please leave a quick review, if only to let me know you are reading and want to read more. :)
Title is from the song Sunday, by Auditorium.
Last but definitely not least, a big thanks to BrittzandTana for her beta work! (psst she also writes emison go check it out.)
Alison's first month back passes by in a blur. After it ends, all she can remember is a seemingly endless string of days spent declaring in Police stations, getting scrutinized in therapist's offices, trying to escape from the flash of the cameras and trying to deal with her mother looking at her as if she's a ticking bomb, a miracle and a stranger, all at once.
During the first week, the Police, finally and incredibly, do something right and manage to block some of A's accounts. After that, they catch and incarcerate a middle aged man with a beer gut and rapist 'stache and promptly convince themselves that he's definitely, beyond any reasonable doubt, A. All the evidence is clearly pointing his way, and he's confessed and his prints are everywhere, and maybe one should leave police work to actual police officers, young lady.
While they're busy patting each other's back, metaphorically and literally, Ali's phone vibrates for the first time in weeks.
She doesn't read it.
Don't think I've forgotten about you BFF. I'll be seeing you soon. Love, -A
She sees Jason exactly once that first month.
She's been back two whole days without hearing from him when he barges into her room, looking as if he's run all the way from...wherever he was, to Rosewood.
He looks better; that's the first thing that pops into Alison's head. Lucid. Like he gives a crap about life. It's a good look for him.
He looks at her with wide eyes. He blinks once. And then twice. "I came as soon as I heard."
Allison doesn't quite know what to say, or how to say it, so she does something she can't remember ever doing: she leaps from the bed and hugs him.
She presses her cheek against his shirt. "Hi."
He hugs her back, hard enough for it to hurt. "I can't -" he starts, "I can't stay."
Can't stay? Even when Alison's making a conscious effort to be less self-centered, she honestly can't imagine what could possibly be more important than your sister - or half-sister or whatever - coming back from the dead.
She wants to ask, but all she says is, "Oh. Okay."
His hug tightens and when she hears him choke back a sob, she tries to fight her own tears, she really does, but ends up bawling like a baby against his chest. She clutches the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life.
Apparently, she won't ever be cried out completely.
After the national news grows bored of that one girl in Rosewood, PA, who has come back from the dead, Alison is left with just a couple of Rosewood reporters to contend with. Things calm down considerably.
If it were any other city, Alison supposes it would be surprising how quickly everyone tires of her resurrection and goes back to their lives, but not in Rosewood. After all, as Alison herself knows very well, Rosewood has seen much more exciting news in the last years than her return.
And just like that, it's as if nothing had ever happened. Alison is officially back from the dead, new ID, with an awful picture, and all.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the first thing she does when those last reporters finally get tired of following her around is to go shopping.
She doesn't buy the amount of clothes that she would have a while back, since she kind of had to get used to having a much smaller wardrobe while she was pretending to be dead. Really, trying to pretend she was dead as a doornail, and having to worry about saving her friends from certain death at the hands of a tacky psychopath, didn't exactly leave her with a lot of time to keep up with the latest trends.
Still, as much as she has grown, and shifted her priorities or whatever, that one red coat she owns is starting to get on her nerves.
Besides, it's been a while since she has bought something nice, just because. She figures that life owes her that much.
"Sweetheart," her mother says as she hands her credit card to the sales clerk, "you do know I didn't throw any of your old clothes away, right?"
Alison knows. Her old clothes, hanging in her old closet, in her old room, at her old house, where time seems to be frozen still, would've been difficult to miss.
Even so, something twists uncomfortably in her stomach every time the thought of wearing any of them crosses her mind.
She swallows the sudden lump inside her throat with some difficulty and smiles. "Oh." She waves her hand. "Those are totally out of style by now, mom."
Her mother purses her lips, almost imperceptibly, and Alison wonders if her mother is crazy enough to choose a shopping mall as the location of a whole 'Remember that one time I buried you alive?' conversation.
"Here you go," the clerk says, handing Allison her bag of clothes.
And that's that. Whatever her mother was about to say to her is gone.
"Well, a change could probably do your wardrobe some good."
Ali stares at her mother's back. It's not like she thought they were going to have a heart to heart first thing every morning, but it's been almost two months. Does her mom just not remember that night?
Ali sighs. Just as well.
It's not like she's dying to talk about it, anyway.
As soon as they're through the door, Alison makes a beeline for the stairs.
"Alison, wait," her mother says to Ali's fleeing figure.
Dammit. Alison stops, grips the handrail tightly, and turns her head to look at her mom. "Yeah?"
"You'll probably need some help."
Alison frowns. Some help? What's that supposed to mean? "Help?"
Her mother carefully sets her purse on the coffee table and straightens some imaginary wrinkles out of her cardigan. "To help sort your old clothes, and take them to charity."
Oh. Right. Alison releases a breath that she hadn't known she was holding. "Alright."
"Maybe you should call your friends," her mom continues, "Emily, Aria, Hanna and..." She purses her lips, "and Spencer."
In her mind, Alison's mom is probably making some sort of grand gesture or something. Ali is so not in the mood for this.
"I will," Alison answers, and, before her mother can open her mouth back again, practically sprints upstairs.
"Alison!" she hears her mother yell from downstairs, "Emily's here."
Ali yawns. Apparently, impromptu napping is another area where she has a lot of catching up to do. While she's still trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes, her mother's words finally register.
Of course.
Of course Emily's the first to arrive, because all of Alison's luck seems to have run out since that night when a psycho didn't quite manage to off her with a rock to the back of her head.
Alison gets up from the bed and straightens her back. Okay, game face on, Ali.
It's not like she's not happy to see Emily. Of course she's happy to see one of her best friends. Elated, even.
But Alison has realized something since she's been back; it's one thing to keep tabs on Emily from afar, and it's quite another to see Emily in the flesh, without immediate doom hanging over their heads, and without anywhere to run to.
There's a lot she wants to say to Emily, but also a lot she can't say to Emily. Because, really, how does one say, 'I'm sorry I said you were practice,' but also, 'Maybe I lied.' How exactly is Alison supposed to start a conversation with, 'I'm sorry that I threw your love back at your face,' and also, 'Maybe I want it back.'
Allison shakes her head. Who knew almost dying could make her so lame and depressing?
Besides, there's no point in imagining a conversation she never intends to have. She hadn't even known what she felt before everything happened, and she's even less sure now. What's the point?
As soon as Alison steps into view, her mother and Emily freeze mid sentence.
Okay. That's definitely weird.
Emily recovers first, giving Alison a half smile. "Hi, Ali."
Alison tries to smile at Emily and narrow her eyes at her mother at the same time. Judging by Emily's face, it doesn't exactly work.
She ends up giving up and just smiling at Emily. "Hi Em. C'mon up."
Emily gives Alison's mom a nod and follows Ali up the stairs.
"What were you two talking about?" Alison asks.
"You."
Ali had almost forgotten how honest Emily could be.
"Right." She flips her hair, aiming for casual. "What else is there?"
Emily smiles and fixes her with a look that suggests she doesn't buy Ali's bullshit, not even for a second.
Thankfully, Hannah arrives almost right after Emily does.
This time, Alison hears the doorbell and rushes downstairs. She arrives right in time to see Hanna expertly maneuver herself out from an awkward hug, and trot to the base of the stairs, before Allison's mom has time to do anything else but stand by the door looking vaguely insulted.
She catches Alison watching with a smile and rolls her eyes as if to say "Mothers, am I right?"
Alison smiles, rolls her eyes back at Hanna and feels like a normal teenager for the first time in forever, complaining about meddling mothers. She could kiss Hanna right now.
Once they are in Allison's room, Hanna unceremoniously flops herself onto Alison's bed, notices the piles of clothes Emily is already trying to organize and beams.
"This is about clothes?" she asks. "Thank god!"
Next to her, Emily tilts her head, affectionate smile already in place. "What were you worried it'd be about?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know," Hannah says, "a certain homicidal maniac out for our blood?"
Alison takes one of her, not yellow, new shirts from a bag and tries it out against her body.
"Oh, honey, haven't you heard?" Ali asks, suddenly feeling playful for no good reason. " A is just so last season."
"No, you're right." Hanna leans against the headboard, "I hear B is gonna be all the rage this winter."
It's a terrible joke, and Ali doesn't mean to, but she laughs. "Oh, god." She throws her shirt at Hanna's face. "That's such a bad joke."
Hanna's response is another smile and a wiggle of her eyebrows, playful and confident and Alison wonders, not for the first time, what kind of friend Hannah would've been back in the day, if she'd let her. Before she can say anything, though, Spencer arrives, slowly opening the door to Alison's room as if she's defusing a bomb.
Okay. Alison knows she doesn't exactly have a right to be angry at Spencer just because she hasn't welcomed Alison back with open arms. Doubt is a reasonable reaction, at least according to her army of therapists, and everyone deals with traumatic events at their own pace. An analytical mind like Spencer's probably needs more time and - whatever. Alison knows all this, alright?
Still, Spencer doesn't have to keep showing up just to remind Alison she doesn't trust her.
"Hi," Spencer says.
Alison is about to answer with a sigh of exasperation when she realizes that it probably won't help her case much. "Hi, Spencer," Ali says, trying for humble.
Considering Spencer's expression doesn't relax one bit, she can't quite pull off humble, yet.
Spencer eyes quickly scan the room. "Aria's not here?" she asks, "Has anyone heard from her?"
From her place on Alison's bed, Hanna reaches for her purse. "Yeah, she texted me." She loudly rummages through her purse. "Wait, lemme just-"
"That's ok, Han," Spencer interrupts, "we all know where she is."
Emily runs a hand through her hair and sighs. "Maybe we should say something to her."
Spencer looks at Emily as if that's the stupidest thing she's ever heard. And they say Alison was the mean one! Emily's just trying to help, for god's sake.
"What are we going to say?" Spencer asks. "'I'm sorry your creepy stalker slash ex boyfriend is in a coma, probably near death, but maybe you should leave his bedside once in a while, and maybe shower?'"
Hannah, still looking sadly at her phone, shrugs. "At least we caught a break from A, for a while."
Spencer glances at Alison. "Yes, what a happy coincidence."
But Spence, tell us how you really feel.
Alison crosses her arms and straightens her back. "What's that supposed to mean, Spencer?"
Spencer flinches. It shouldn't make Alison feel good, but it really, really does. Spencer recovers quickly, though, and glares at Alison, lifting her chin. "What do you think it
means, Alison?"
All things considered, it's a good thing that Emily steps in between them before Alison can claw Spencer's smug eyes out.
"Spence, that's enough," Emily says, and Alison can see every muscle in her back tense. "Maybe you should go."
Oh, fuck it, angry Emily is all kinds of hot. Fortunately, before Alison can do something irreparably dumb, like say that out loud, Spencer holds her hands up in surrender.
"Fine," she says, practically spitting out the words, "I'm sorry."
Emily turns around, looking at Allison expectantly.
Right. She's supposed to say something, too. That's how compromising works.
"Fine," Alison echoes, "whatever. C'mon in, Spence."
Things only get more and more tense from that point on, so when Spencer tapes the last box shut, looks at Alison as if she's a mystery to figure out and says, nonchalantly, "I can give you a hand with your exams if you want," all Alison really wants to do is ask what drugs is she on, this time.
Instead, because she'll need some serious help if she's going to recover the year and a half she missed being dead, she mentally crosses her fingers and says "I - sure. I mean, yes, please."
Spencer smiles and, geez, how did that become such a scary sight?
When they're somewhat finished, Spencer offers Hanna a ride home.
Emily, still living next door, lingers a bit more and so while she pretends to sort boxes, Alison pretends to organize her new wardrobe.
Yeah. Some friends they are. They can barely even look at each other.
After a while, Alison gives up the pretense and just sits there, looking at Emily feign working. When Emily notices and looks up from the boxes, there's a moment, before either of them realize what they're doing, that Alison lets herself smile at Emily. As she used to.
Emily smiles back and try as she might, Allison can't help that her heart beats faster, ready to burst with affection.
It lasts only a second and then Emily blinks and takes a step back, almost knocking over a pile of boxes.
"I -" she starts, "my mom, she texted - I should probably go."
She's out of the door before Alison can react.
Well.
Out of four friends she has left, only one can still look at Alison in the eye without glaring or bolting from the room. Alison's going to have to count that as a win.
So. Take that, A.
Spencer does, in fact, text Alison the following morning to set up a study date.
Ali spends the whole drive over taking deep, deep breaths and reminding herself that even if she's a new Alison, Spencer has every right to be doubtful, and that she doesn't exactly have a track record that inspires confidence.
This "new life, new Alison" is the worst. Just the worst. Ali used to not even know what nerves meant, and now she can barely have a single human interaction that doesn't involve her second guessing herself about every little thing she does.
Jesus. Why did she ever think she could pull this off?
Deep breaths. She can do this. She can be a good friend. She can wait until Spencer trusts her again. Deep breaths. Relax.
When she knocks on the Hasting's door, though, and it opens to reveal a haughty looking Melissa, all her relaxing goes straight to hell.
"Hello Melissa," she says.
Melissa rolls her eyes, a little melodramatically. "Save it," she says, opening the door all
the way. "Spencer is upstairs."
Honestly, what a bitch.
"Thanks, Baby Mama," Ali says and winces, regretting the words as soon as they're out of her mouth.
Melissa looks at her as if Allison is something that's gone bad in the back of her fridge. "Get the fuck out of my sight."
Well.
That could've gone a lot worse.
The study sessions, as Ali really should've suspected, are a catastrophe.
"Just because you spent two years playing dead doesn't give you an excuse for this level of idiocy!"
"Yeah, well maybe not everyone wants to be a speeding brainiac extraordinaire like you!"
"Are you being purposefully dense?"
"Oh, I don't know, are you being purposefully a giant bitch?"
"I give up. Drop out for all I care!"
"Fine."
"Fine!"
"So," Hannah begins, handling Allison her coffee, "how are those study dates going?"
"Great," Ali answers, maybe a little too quickly.
Hannah doesn't buy it. "Really?"
Alison gives her a look. "No, not really," she admits.
"We're taking..." She takes a sip of her coffee, trying to find the right words. "...a homicide preventive break."
Hannah laughs. "That good, huh?"
"Yes," Ali replies, not finding her misery nearly as funny as Hanna seems to, "that good."
Ali is about to complain about Spencer some more, when she catches a glimpse of Emily, cleary upset, talking on her phone.
Hanna follows her line of vision. "Speaking of things that could be going a lot better," she says, "how are things between you and Emily?"
Alison narrows her eyes. There's something in Hanna's tone that rubs her the wrong way.
"Fine," she says, "they're fine."
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Hanna nods in Emily's direction, "you two have avoided each other practically since you got back. Maybe you could try telling me what's going on?"
Hanna fixes Ali with a look so full of concern and pity it makes Alison's see red.
"Maybe you should try minding your own business," she says, spitting out the words with enough contempt to make old Ali proud.
But Hanna doesn't budge, she doesn't even blink. "Yeah, well. Despite your best efforts, Ali, you are still my friend. It is my business."
Alison sighs.
Hanna is right. Emily has been avoiding Ali, ever since that afternoon. To be honest, Ali has kind of been avoiding Emily, too.
"I don't know, ok?" She admits, "things are crap, that's how they are. And I don't even know why."
"Is it, " Hanna begins, pausing to steal a glance at Emily, "is it because of Emily and Paige?"
Alison blood runs cold. Oh god. She knows, Hanna knows. Somehow, Hanna has managed to look inside Alison's heart and she's found the dark, twisted part of her that still wants Emily to love only her. No one but her.
Does everyone know? Does Emily know?
She nearly works herself into a panic, and then she sees Hanna's face, warm and open and understanding. Hanna is not like Ali. She doesn't hoard secrets like treasures to use them like swords.
Hanna is not trying to discover Ali's secret to hurt her, she truly, genuinely wants to be a friend to her.
She wants to be honest, she really does, but, "Emily and Paige? What's that supposed to mean?", comes out instead.
Hanna looks so disappointed, and Ali feels like a complete jerk.
"Nothing, Ali." she says, "It doesn't mean anything at all."
After that, neither of them says another word until Hanna get's a call from Travis and says she has to go. Alison looks around, Emily's shift has ended but she apparently left without even saying goodbye.
Alison doesn't feel like crying. Not even one bit.
Alison ends up actually swallowing her pride and calling Spencer to continue the torture sessions.
Considering she's avoiding Hanna, and Emily is still avoiding her, and Aria is avoiding the whole world, it's not like she has a lot of options, either.
They manage a whole hour before Spencer loses her patience.
She loudly closes her book and looks daggers at Alison. "I can't believe you can learn to pilot a plane, and yet fail to comprehend basic algebra, Alison!"
Alison has had it with Spencer.
She throws her book to the floor, where it lands with a loud thump. "What the fuck is your problem, Spencer?"
Spencer looks at her in disbelief. "What's my problem?"
"Yeah," Ali says. "Your problem! I'm trying here, ok? And you just want to bite my fucking head off!"
"Maybe I'm just angry, Alison. Ever think about that?" Spencer says, before adding, "No, Wait. I'm furious."
Alison realizes this may not have to do with her issues with algebra, at all.
"Where were you, Allison?" Spencer asks, getting right into Ali's personal space, "What were you doing when A was ruining our lives?"
Ali takes a step back, and then another, until the back of her knees are againsts Spencer's bed. "A wanted me dead. Wants me dead. What was I supposed to do?"
"And what about what A wanted for us, Allison? What about what A's put us through?"
"I tried - I," Ali takes a deep breath, clenching her fists, "I helped you as much as I could."
Spencer laughs. "Did you, really?" she asks. "Because all the help I ever got from you was some cryptic words and a dance lesson when A had messed with my head so bad I could barely keep reality straight."
Fuck you, Spencer. At least Alison tried, instead of going over the deep end and leaving their friends alone against psychopath.
"Yeah, well, maybe with your track record, you should've taken a little more care with keeping up with reality, Spencer."
"Oh, fuck you."
"Fuck you too, darling."
They glare at each other until Alison just... gives up. She's too tired for this shit.
"Whatever," Ali says, "I shouldn't have come."
She walks to the door and she's about to leave when she barely catches Spencer say, "Maybe you shouldn't have come at all."
Alison's hand freezes at the doorknob. She feels herself deflate, like all the anger in her body suddenly decided to become sadness.
Yeah. Maybe.
Maybe she shouldn't have come at all. Maybe she should've just stayed dead.
She feels tears prickle her eyes and shuts them tight enough to see white spots. When she opens them again, she turns around and meets Spencer eyes. At least she looks about as tired as Ali feels.
"I was scared," she admits, surprising herself, "I am scared. I'm still terrified half the time." Ali fixes her eyes on her hands. "But that doesn't excuse anything... I'm sorry," she continues, "I'm sorry I didn't come back when you needed me."
"You came back when you needed us," Spencer says.
Ali wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know you," she pauses, swallowing around the lump in her throat, "I know I probably don't deserve it, but I could use your help."
Spencer smiles. It's not friendly exactly, or happy, but Ali feels like maybe it's... a start. "Story of my life."
Spencer stands up, picks up Alison's book from where it landed and sets it back on the table.
"This doesn't mean it's all forgiven," she says, eyes fixed on the first page.
Ali nods. "I know."
"Let's just - let's just try to get you through this and then... we'll see."
"Then we'll see."
She comes back from Spencer feeling bone-weary, as if she hasn't slept in a week. As she waddles towards her front door, she steals a glance towards Emily's house and is surprised to see that Emily's there, sitting on the front steps of her house, with Paige sitting closely next to her.
They seem deep in conversation and while it doesn't look like a particularly happy one, Alison can't miss the way Paige looks at Emily, even from a distance. It's a look so full of love Ali feels weird just witnessing it.
Whatever it is that she felt for Emily when they were fifteen, whatever she feels for Emily now, it doesn't matter. She hurt Emily too much by being cruel instead of brave, and she let too long pass and now, Emily has found someone else to love and it's just too late. She can't ruin this for Emily. She won't.
She averts her eyes and goes into her house, feeling like she's done the right thing, for once in her life.
She cries herself to sleep, all the same.