For Blue. I hope you enjoy, darling!
Also, for Laura and Harry from Clara and I, because how can it not be?
It all starts with her red lipstick.
Harry sits at the bar in a loud club, trying to drown everything with alcohol. Usually, she prefers bars since there's less people and it's generally quieter, but tonight, she doubts the silence will be comforting.
Harry just wants to forget. Forget that she's very close to getting fired from her job. Forget that her brother is so far – in Afghanistan – fighting in some war just to get away.
She tips back another shot.
From her position at the end of the bar, she people-watches. She watches as the people dance and grind on the dance floor. But one person in particular catches her eyes.
A woman is dancing with a group of her friends. Her hair is dark and long, but that's not what has Harry's attention. It's the red that's painted on her lips, a sharp contrast to the darkness of her features.
Before she can tell herself otherwise, Harry is crossing the dance floor. It takes her a few moments to fight her way through the crowd, but she does. "Can I dance with you?" she asks.
The dark headed girl turns toward her. Brown eyes study Harry for a moment, and Harry can see just how beautiful she is up close. The girl nods.
Harry moves closer and places her hands on the other girls' hips. "So what's your name, gorgeous?" she questions.
The girl flushes, but it's not as bright as her lipstick. "Clara."
"Harry."
For the first time, Harry believes that she found her sunshine.
Clara meets Harry stare. "Stop staring!" she demands. There's a slight laugh in her tone that makes Harry smile.
"How can I when there's such a beautiful woman in front of me?" Harry questions.
Clara rolls her eyes, but smiles.
Harry leans toward Clara, and presses her lips against Clara's. And she thinks that it's the most intoxicating thing she's ever felt. She doesn't need alcohol when she has Clara.
"I love you," she murmurs as she pulls away.
Resting her head against Harry's, Clara whispers, "Love you too."
There's no one else Harry would rather have.
"Are you sure about this?"
Harry sighs into the phone. "I'm sure, John. I love her."
There's silence on the other end, and Harry knows that John wants to remind her about Katie and how Harry believed that she loved Katie. But she's thankful when John doesn't.
"If that's what you want, Harry. I'll support you the whole way," he says. "Just know that I won't be able to be there."
Harry closes her eyes and controls her breathing. "I know. And I wish you were. But Clara's mother is dying and Clara wants her to witness us getting married. We'll do a ceremony with you when you get back."
"It sounds like you have a deal." Harry wants to say something else, but John quickly adds on, "Sorry, Harry. I got to go! I'll talk with you soon."
"Bye," she whispers.
Before she can hang up, John talks again. "I'm so proud of you. And I love you."
"Love you too, John. Be safe."
She hangs up the phone, a smile across her face. She's never been happier.
But Harry's never happy for long.
Harry twists the ring on her finger, debating whether or not to drink the shot of whiskey before her. She knows that Clara will be pissed if she does. But she's had such a long day, and she just wants to forget about it in the only way she remembers how to.
The bartender comes over twice to ask if she's going to drink it, and each time she nods her head. The bartender gives her a disbelieving look but doesn't move the glass.
Eventually, Harry picks up the glass and swallows the contents. She feels the familiar burn in the back of her throat. Waving another the bartender for another one, she downs it as quickly as the first. The bartender fills up her glass a second time.
"That bad of a fight?" he asks, nodding toward Harry's wedding ring.
She isn't fighting with Clara, but she nods anyways. "Something like that." She takes a sip of her whiskey.
Before the bartender disappeared, he says, "Sitting here drinking isn't going to solve your problems."
Harry laughs. Oh if she had a dollar for every time she heard that line. She finishes her drink and throws down money on the counter. She makes her way home, feeling pleasantly buzzed. She hasn't felt like this in so long, and she kind of missed it.
When she see Clara's disappointed look, she feels slightly guilty about relapsing, but it's not enough to override her buzz.
The world crashes down on top of her.
"I can't do this, Harry!" Clara says.
Harry's mind is sluggish from the alcohol and it takes several moments for Clara's words to register. "No!" she whispers.
Clara shakes her dark curls, tearing rolling down her face. "I'm sorry," she sobs. "But I can't watch you destroy yourself."
"Don't do this, Clara. Please!" Harry begs. "I'll get better. I swear, I'll change. Just don't leave me."
Pulling the ring off her finger, Clara chokes back another sob. "I'm so sorry. I want to believe you. I really do. But we both know that you will fall back into your same old ways when you become challenged again. And I'm not enough to keep you from doing that."
She places the rings in Harry's hand. "I'm sorry," she repeats.
Harry watches as Clara walks out the door. As soon as the door slams, Harry takes a long swig out of the bottle of whiskey she has. And then she throws it at the wall.
Maybe Harry wasn't the loving type.
"Are you sure?" John asks.
Harry nods, shoving the phone into his hands. "I'm sure. Just take it. I don't need it."
John turns the phone over, and Harry knows what's he's going to find. The inscription from Clara when she gift Harry with the phone for Christmas. John looks up at Harry with curious eyes.
"It didn't work out," she answers the unspoken question.
John's gaze softens. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah," she agrees, "so am I."
A/n - so many thanks to Lizy for looking over this for me.