A/N: The following contains spoilers for A Star is Born, obviously. Proceed with caution if you haven't watched the movie. But if you have, perhaps you weren't happy with that ending either. Perhaps you believed that these characters deserved better, that a man trying his best to get better deserved a chance to recover and a girl with a dream and a big heart deserved a happy ending. After hearing Lady Gaga's song You and I, I was compelled to write that better ending.

YOU AND I

Bobby had found him on the ground, unconscious. Bleeding. The stepladder flipped over sideways, the black belt hanging from the garage rafter. The bottle of pills, empty on the ground. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened. Jack had taken the whole bottle – but he'd wanted to be sure. Hence the belt. But in the process he must've passed out and fallen. His pulse was faint, but it was still there. Years and years of sheltering Jack from the media fallout, Bobby knew this was beyond his ability to handle. This felt different. And it terrified him. He could actually lose him this time. Fumbling for his phone, he called the only number that could help.

By the time Ally arrived, the paramedics were loading him onto a stretcher. She threw open the door of the car before Ramon even had the chance to put it in park, and ran down the lawn. "Jack!" she shouted. "Jack!"

The whole house was bathed in the glow of red and blue lights, casting a frightening hue onto the face she'd recognize anywhere. Jackson's eyes were closed and the paramedics were shouting instructions at each other. Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears she could hardly think straight. "What happened? Is he okay? What's going on? Jack!"

"Ma'am, we need you to stay back," an EMT warned.

"Don't tell me what to do! That's my husband!" she cried. "Jack! Jack can you hear me?" Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. "Jack, please, answer me!"

There was a beeping from inside the cab of the ambulance and someone shouted, "We need to get him to hospital, now!" She stood there in a stupor as men and women in white uniforms shut the doors of the cab. As she realized they were getting ready to leave – to leave with him, to takeJack with him, she started towards the vehicle – they couldn't take him away, she wasn't going to let them take him away – but a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back.

"Ain't no point in chasing after 'em. They know what they're doing." Bobby's voice was so steady, and his calm sparked her fear into panic.

"What's going on? Bobby, what the hell is happening? What's wrong with Jack?" she demanded.

"There was an accident." Her heart nearly stopped.

"An accident?"

"Jack… tried to hurt himself," Bobby said.

Tried to hurt himself? She knew what that euphemism implied. Ally shook her head. That couldn't be right. That didn't make sense. "No. No, he was doing better. He was doing a lot better. He wouldn't do that." Wouldn't do that to meis what she wanted to add.

Bobby set his jaw, and she could tell he was grappling with how much to tell her. "Ally this isn't the first time he tried. When we were kids he – he thought I didn't know but it wasn't hard to put things together when…" He trailed off, and Ally looked past him to the driveway. The door of the truck was open. The light still on in the garage. Something hanging from one of the rafters.

The world seemed to spin and she thought she was going to be sick. What had happened? She should've been there. She shouldn't have left him home alone. She should have driven him to the concert – no, she shouldn't have even gone to the concert. How had she not seen this coming? Wasn't she supposed to know him better than anyone? Jack had been ready to leave the world without even saying goodbye to her and she'd been on some stage miles away playing her songs for complete strangers. Her stomach lurched and the world seemed to spin.

Bobby reached out to steady her. "It's gonna be okay." But he didn't sound too sure.

In a daze he led her over to his truck. It was all she could do to climb in, not even bothering to buckle her seatbelt. He drove her to the hospital in silence. To speak felt like it might jinx whatever luck was holding Jack here on earth. It was all too fragile. For someone so big, so sturdy, Jack was frightfully delicate.

Paparazzi were already waiting outside the doors of the hospital as they approached. Ally stiffened at the sight of them. It was disgusting, the way they flocked to a tragedy like this. Waiting for a shot of her crying. She wasn't going to give them the pleasure. She slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses to hide her eyes. "Here, take this too." Bobby pulled a white cowboy hat from the backseat, and she put it on, pulling the brim down low. "I'll find you inside," he added.

Ally took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Immediately camera bulbs went off, explosions of light in the darkness. There were voices yelling her name, begging her to look their way, to tell her what had happened.

"Ally! Ally! Look here, Ally! Over here! Where's Jackson? Why is he in the hospital? Ally! Ally, this way!"

She pressed her mouth into a hard line. Refused to give them a single sign of emotion as she forced her way through the crowd and into the lobby of the hospital. Two security guards moved to block the doors as soon as she'd walked past them, and the lights and shouting mercifully faded.

A nurse was waiting at the front desk to guide her upstairs to a private wing where Jackson's room was. She had graying hair and dark eyes. Her nametag read Trinity.Ally waited until they were in an elevator alone to ask the question that had been lodged in her throat. "How is he?"

Trinity gave her a kind smile. "Don't you worry, baby. He's stable. Gave us all quite a scare there for a minute, but he's gonna be just fine. Right now he's just resting. He's been through a lot tonight."

Ally twisted the wedding ring on her finger. "Um… what exactly happened tonight?"

Trinity raised her eyebrows. "They didn't tell you already?"

The whole night had been a blur she hadn't had a chance to ask anyone on the scene. It had been a struggle to even process what she was seeing. One moment she was singing on stage, the next she was screaming at an ambulance as the one person she loved more than anything was being driven away from her.

"No, I um… his brother was the one who called. He didn't tell me – he just said Jack had tried to, uh, I think he tried to hang himself?" The words sounded strained coming out. To say them out loud was to make it real and this whole thing felt so very unreal. A nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Trinity stepped out and began walking down the hallway, Ally close behind her. "He didn't quite get to that part. Took the better part of a bottle of oxycodone first. He must've passed out while standing on the chair because he's got a concussion. We'll keep him overnight for monitoring given the head injury, but I think he'll be just fine." She came to a halt in front of the only room on the floor. Through the glass door Jackson was visible, evidently asleep in the hospital bed. A handful of monitors beeped around him, and an oxygen tube rested under his nose. She hadn't seen him look so broken since that night at the Grammys.

"He's been asleep for a while," said Trinity, "but you can go sit with him if you'd like. Might do you both some good."

"Okay. Okay, yeah. I'll do that. Thank you."

"Just press the call light if you need anything. Take care, sugar." The nurse winked and started back towards the elevator. Ally took a deep breath, steeling herself to walk inside. Why did it feel so hard to enter? This was just Jack. Her husband. The man she loved – the man she would've done anything for.

So why didn't he tell her that he was struggling?

No, that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was okay. Jack was okay. Ally gently slid the glass door open and stepped inside the room. The sterile smell of bleach and pastel walls seemed so far from their cozy home.

She pulled up one of the chairs close to his bedside, setting Bobby's hat on the table beside a cup of water that had been left there for Jack. If she tried to ignore the oxygen tube, he looked peaceful. Eyes closed, breathing slow and calm. For once he wasn't fighting anything. But god, how hard he'd been fighting everything only hours ago.

She still didn't understand what had changed or why he'd done this. There would be a time to ask questions, but right now she just needed to be there for him. And she needed him to be there for her. They needed each other, they always had. What would make him feel better right now? As if she had to ask. There was one thing he always turned to, and that was music. Really it was only a question of choosing the right song.

Ally started humming the melody softly, hoping he could hear her by the time she started singing the chorus.

"So when I'm all choked up and I can't find the words
every time we say goodbye baby it hurts.
When the sun goes down
and the band won't play…"

Ally closed her eyes, trying to stop the shaking in her voice. This wasn't how she wanted to remember them. She wanted to remember the nights on stage and the afternoons in the backyard and the sleepy mornings laughing together. Not hospital rooms or showers or arguments in the bathroom.

"I'll always remember us this way.
Lovers in the night,
poets trying to write,
we don't now how to rhyme
but, damn, we try.
But all I really know-" Ally hesitated, changing the words ever so slightly, "you're where I feel at home. The part of me that's you…"

Jack's eyes fluttered open at that moment and the words of the song were traded in for a gasped, "Hi."

At the sound of her voice he groggily turned to her. "I told you I loved that one."

Ally meant to laugh, but it quickly turned into a sob and she clamped one hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to keep from weeping in front of him. Jack's eyebrows furrowed, and he lifted a shaky hand from beneath the blankets. She reached out to grab it, and he held tight as she cried in front of him. There was a comfort in the warmth of his calloused skin, his big hands. Like worn-out leather. Strong. And though she was holding tight to him, he felt miles away, and she wasn't quite sure how to reach him. How to cut through all the tension and all the unspoken things lying between them.

Honesty seemed like a good enough start. "You really scared me," she said. "I can't lose you Jack. I can't be in a world without you in it. I thought I'd lost you and that terrified me."

"Terrified us both." Bobby's voice startled her; she hadn't heard him come into the room. He walked over to stand beside Ally.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. His eyes fell to his lap, the picture of shame. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. And I never meant to hurt you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do. I love you."

"It's okay baby, it's okay." Ally tried to give him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "We're gonna figure this out. I'll cancel the rest of the tour like I talked about and we-"

"No, no no no," Jack said, trying to sit up. "No, Ally, don't, you can't cancel it. Don't cancel the tour." His eyes were wild and panicked. The sudden burst of energy and insistence took her by surprise. He was practically begging. "You have to finish the tour. Swear you will. Fuckin' promise me you'll finish it."

"Okay," she said, confused by the change in his behavior. "But I don't want to leave you right now." To stick to schedule she'd have to leave tomorrow afternoon.

Jack fell back down against the pillows, relieved. "I won't be alone. I know how this works. They're gonna make me go to rehab and counseling and all that shit again. So you can finish the tour while I'm there. It'll be fine."

"He's right," Bobby added. "No point in just sitting around the house waiting for him. Might as well do the damn thing."

"Okay," she repeated, though she hated the sound of it. She'd nearly lost her whole world tonight. "If that's what you want, I'll finish the tour. And I'll come see you as soon as I can, okay?" There were only twelve stops on the European tour. She'd be back in less than three weeks.

But something in Jack had changed. He stared straight ahead at the wall, his smile gone. The passion that had just sparked in him had drained. "Listen, I'm tired," he said suddenly. "I'm really fucking tired."

"We'll give you space to rest," Bobby set. He set a hand on her shoulder as if to wordlessly tell her that it was time to go. Reluctantly she stood from the chair, glancing at her husband, expecting Jack to change his mind and ask her to stay with him. His eyes had already fallen closed. Ally grabbed the hat and sunglasses from the table, but paused when she saw a sheet of paper with doctors names and a pen. Quickly she scribbled, I love you more than anything! Your Ally, just so he'd have a something to remind him of her when he woke up. Then she followe Bobby back out into the hallway, leaving Jack alone for the night.

"I should've been there," she said quietly. "I should have known something was wrong. If you hadn't found him Bobby, I… the last thing I did was lie to him." The words came out as a pitiful cry, as she let herself admit how close they'd come to losing Jack. Why had he felt the need to do that? What had changed? Why hadn't he talked to her?

"Listen to me," Bobby said, his voice gruff and commanding. Ally looked up at him, blinking away tears. "It's not your fault. It's just not. It was Ja-" He caught himself before the second syllable and inhaled slowly, as though trying to remember a lesson he'd learned before. "It wasn't anyone's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault." That's what they'd told them when he was in rehab the first time, wasn't it? It wasn't her fault or Bobby's fault or even Jack's fault. This was a disease. This was years of trauma. Nobody was to blame.

Nobody.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

Ally hesitated, all of the possible things she could say playing out before her. She wanted to thank him for going to check on Jack when she called in a panic backstage. She wanted to apologize for the way he'd been treated when he was only trying to help his brother. She wanted to ask him if he was okay and how he was feeling, because hell she knew so little about Bobby other than that he was Jack's brother and their relationship was complicated and when she had needed a way to hide he'd given her his hat. There were a million conversations she could have dived into but their courses stretched so long and so deep for that short hospital corridor so late in the night.

"I – I just want to home, please," she said.

ALLY & JACKSON – STEADY AFTER SUICIDE SCARE?

After Jackson Maine was hospitalized following his latest drug overdose, which sources say was a suicide attempt, he's back in rehab and his wife, Ally, is back on tour. The "Why Did You Do That?" singer is across the pond on her first world tour while Maine is receiving treatment back in California. The split had fans fearing the power couple was over, but sources close to the pop singer say that she's standing by her man despite his heavily publicized battle with addiction. In addition to her standard tour set list, Ally has begun performing a new song on each stop called, "I'll Never Love Again." According to her, it was written for her by Maine, and she's turned it into a soulful, heart-rending ballad to show the world that she hasn't given up on her marriage. Ally's first tour has been wildly successful, even after her infamous Grammy win earlier this year. Critics have cast doubt on whether her career – or relationship – can withstand Maine's antics in the long-term.

READERS WEIGH IN!
Should Ally stay with Jackson Maine?
37% say yes, they prove love conquers all
63% say no, he's dragging her down

Jack tossed the tabloid magazine into the waiting room recycling bin. Garbage. That's all it was. Parasitic paparazzi trying to turn a profit off of other people's pain. But that photo they had of Ally broke his heart – pulling Bobby's white hat over her eyes so the cameras wouldn't see her cry. That was his fault. He'd done that to her, forced her to take that walk of shame into the hospital. He'd ruined what should have been a happy night for her. Maybe there was some truth in the trash – maybe he wasdragging her down. That wasn't exactly news to him, Rez had made that pretty fucking clear when he came by the house. But after seeing how devastated she was at the hospital, he just couldn't put her through that again. If he died, he was afraid she'd never recover, and he needed her to be able to shine.

That left him in something of a mess – he needed to get out of her life without destroying her life. Fortunately the abundance of free time in treatment gave him plenty of time to work out a solution. And Ally was an ocean away from him, meaning he could put things into motion without her suspecting something was up.

An ocean away singing the song he wrote for her every night. She wasn't sending a message to the world, no, she was sending a message to him. She still loved him more than anything, just like that note she'd written on his bedside table. God that was enough to make him want to forget this whole thing and go running straight into her arms the first chance he got. Tell her over and over again how much he loved her. Let her know that she was his whole world, that he would cross the goddamn ocean for her any day.

But if he truly loved her, he couldn't keep hurting her like this. Ally was a star on the rise. Jack was past his prime. It was time for him to get out of her spotlight.

"Jackson, your brother is here," one of the clinic staff announced.

"Thanks, Jamie," he replied. "Send him on in." Tuesdays were family counseling days, should families choose to participate in them. Jack had little interest in revisiting their less-than cheerful childhood, but Dr. Singh seemed certain it would help make "progress." That was all the doctors talked to him about. Making "progress." Taking all those little baby steps one at a time toward the impossible mountain they called recovery. Anything could progress. Getting through a meal without a drink? Progress. Apologizing to friends from the past? Progress. Yelling and sobbing and crying on the floor? If you were getting in tune with your emotions, it was progress. Sure as hell didn't feel like it though.

Dr. Singh was adamant, and so Jack had relented and agreed to let them invite Bobby to a session of therapy. Maybe it would help. Even if it didn't, it would help him make that progress in another way. Bobby could help him put his plan into motion.

Moments later, his brother appeared through the double doors, giving him a brief nod and wordlessly sitting down in a chair beside him.

"Excited for family therapy?" Jack asked, attempting to sound serious. He couldn't hide a shit-eating grin though.

Bobby snorted. "Let's just get this shit over with."

"You know I think we're pretty damn capable of counseling ourselves – I think the doctor's just there to make sure we don't fuckin' kill each other while we're doing it."

That earned him a laugh from Bobby. "Yeah, you're already in those fucking magazines enough for this. We don't need you getting arrested for murder, too."

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, you're probably right. Listen, about that – I need your help with something." Bobby turned towards him, waiting. "I need you to help me leave Ally."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Jack put up a hand. "Just hear me out. I know this whole thing's put me in the papers, but it's put her in 'em too. And it's just fucking bullshit – saying I'm dragging her down and she's a fool to stay with me. I'm an embarrassment to her as long as she stays with me. And she's never gonna leave me because she's too goddamn good. So I need to do the right thing by her."

"Ally's the best thing in your fucked-up life."

"Don't you think I know that?" Jack gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "That's the fucking point. She's the best thing in my life, but I'm not the best thing in hers. Even if she thinks so. I'm ruining her chance to find better things. So I need to take myself out of the equation." A wary look passed over Bobby's face and tilted his head ever so slightly at that phrase. Jack worried that maybe he'd said a little too much. Not wanting to open up that line of questioning, he plowed ahead. "I need to divorce her. Bobby it's the only way I can save her career."

"You realize this is going to kill yours," he responded.

"I know. But maybe… maybe it's time."

Time to let the old ways die. Time to let old stars fade away and new ones take their place.

There was a long silence between them as Bobby leaned back in the plastic chair, staring at the doors before them. A lifetime of music and tours and arguments between the two of them, and here he was proposing they let it all end.

Finally Bobby spoke. "You really love her, huh."

"More than my own life, I do. So – you'll help me?"

At that moment, Dr. Singh stepped through the doors, a clipboard in hand and a practiced smile on his face. "You two ready?"

Bobby looked right at Jack. "Yeah. Okay."

Eleven of the twelve tour stops, completed. Last night, she'd played to a sold out crowd at Le Zénith in Paris. She'd sang a shorter rendition of "La Vie En Rose" for them, which made the gathered fans go wild.

"Merci, merci, Paris," she'd said, in the shaky French she'd practiced before the concert. "Je vous aime. Et maintenant, ma derniere chanson."

The crowd cheered and Ally had closed her eyes. Let herself fall back through time and space to that warm day in their backyard when she'd gone flying down the zipline and Jack had caught her in his arms and they'd both laughed so hard. To the evening in the bubble bath when she'd made over his face and put on the thin Edith Piaf-like eyebrows he'd begged her to let him try. Those little moments of love. She conjured them up for herself, and hoped that somehow Jack could hear her, somehow, each time she sang for him.

The lights above the stage had turned golden and she sang slowly, sweetly.

"Wish I could, could've said goodbye…"

Ally poured every piece of her heart into the song, as though singing it every night would let him feel how deeply she loved him. It was like some sort of spell, and if she continued to sing it, maybe it would protect him until she returned to him.

Ally had finished the song on one last, long note, and the room had erupted in applause. Lights from cameras and cell phones flashed so bright, a million blinding stars. The cheers were deafening. She had raised her hands to the crowd, taken several bows, smiling at the audience gathered there for her –

And then she was on a plane in silence, all by herself, flying over a dark ocean to get back home. She had a week off before the finale concert in London and had begged Rez to let her go see Jack in rehab. Singing to him each night wasn't enough. She needed to see him – to touch him and hold him and know he was okay. They still hadn't talked about what happened that night, and she wanted to understand what had hurt him so deeply. After landing in LA, she got to the house late in the morning to unpack some of her things. Charlie was ecstatic to see her and she chased him around the house, laughing as they played. He'd been alone for weeks, without her or Jack. Luckily Ramon had been willing to dogsit for them, but it was clear to see Charlie missed his parents. Ally cuddled up close to him on the couch.

"It's okay baby," she said. "Daddy will be home soon." Then they'd be back together again – their little ragtag family, in the home they'd built.

After eating a quick breakfast and having refilled Charlie's water bowl, Ally dialed the number of the treatment center. After a few rings, a warm voice on the other end announced, "Hillside Recovery Center, Linda speaking."

"Hi Linda," Ally said, trying to mimic her friendly tone. "I'm calling to set up a visit with a patient there."

"Okay, can I have the name and patient number of the individual?"

"Um, Jackson Maine? I think the number is 2559."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Linda. "But Mr. Maine isn't schedule to have any visitors for the next week."

Ally gripped the phone a little tighter. "That can't be right."

"I'm afraid that's what is says in the doctor's notes."

"Well, I'm his wife. I need to see him – and I know he wants to see me."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Maine, but those are the instructions I have."

"Can you put his doctor on?"

Linda's voice had lost the warmth it had. "I'm sorry, Dr. Singh is busy at the moment."

Ally wasn't one to throw a superstar-sized tantrum, but she was ready to say whatever it took to get time with Jackson. "Do you know who I am? Who Jack is? I want to speak to Dr. Singh right now."

"I'm sorry, but there are no exceptions. We'll call you when there's an update. Have a good day, Mrs. Maine.'

"Please, wait, I just need to speak to my husband!" she cried. But the line had already gone dead on the other end. Ally tossed the phone onto the counter, as if the device itself was responsible for her frustration. What was that supposed to mean, no visitors this week? This was the only week she had.

Ally was about to pick up the forsaken phone to call Bobby when there was a knock at the door. When she answered it, she found herself face to face with the older Maine brother.

"Bobby, oh thank God! I was just about to call you – I was trying to get ahold of Jack but Hillside is saying he's not accepting visitors and-"

"Whoa, slow down there sister. Take a breath," Bobby encouraged, stepping into the living room.

"Sorry," she said. "It's good to see you."

"How's the tour been? They treating you ok in Europe?"

"Oh, yeah, it's been great. A total whirlwind, but I mean it's been a real dream come true." The response made her cringe. It was so easy to fall into the habit of repeating press sound bytes to the people in her life. It's what she said to every reporter, that it was all wonderful, just a dream, a wonderful dream. But her dream had been to do this all with Jack by her side. "But how's Jack doing? They won't let me talk to him. What's going on?"

Bobby ran a hand over his beard. "He's… he's good. He's trying to get better. But he's, uh, I think he's had a lot of time to think and – shit, this isn't easy to explain. He asked me to do something for him."

Ally frowned, leaning against the wall. "What do you mean? What did he want?"

Reaching deep into his jacket pocket, Bobby withdrew an envelope and passed it to her. Ally opened it, and unfolded the stack of papers inside.

Superior Court of California
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage

Petitioner: Jackson Maine
Respondent: Ally Maine (née: Campana)

Ally looked up. "What the hell is this?" She stared at Bobby who wore a perfect poker face, betraying nothing. "What the hell is this shit? Tell me!" she shouted.

"Jack has asked for a divorce. He's already filed the paperwork and -"

"Divorce? He's asking for a divorce? What the fuck is this about?"

Bobby didn't even flinch. "He said it's over, sweetheart. He can't do it anymore."

His calm was infuriating, just as it had been that night in front of the garage. "You're lying!" she screamed. "You lying motherfucker! Tell me the truth! Tell me the truth!" But he just stared straight at her, his silence saying this was all the truth he had to offer. Was this why Jack wasn't taking visitors? Why this why she couldn't reach him?

"I'm sorry, Ally," he said. A hint of pity in that deep drawl. That pity made bile rise in her throat and she raised a hand, ready to reach across and slap him for delivering such news to her but as she pulled her arm back Bobby turned his cheek, ready to take it.

What the fuck was she doing? She was losing it. Goddammit what was happening to her? Ally's hand curled into a fist and she pressed her knuckles over her mouth to try and hide her quivering lip.

"Get the fuck out of my house," she whispered. When he didn't move, she yelled, "I said, get out!" Taking one last look at her, Bobby nodded and walked out the front door, leaving her alone once more. Just Ally and Charlie and an envelope that sealed a future she thought was wide open.

She just didn't understand it. The stack of paper illuminated very little. Flipping through condescending legal paragraphs, she paused when she saw a sheet of paper covered in Jack's messy scrawl.

Ally,

That greeting alone gave her goosebumps. No dearest, or darling or sweetheart, or dear. Just her name.

I'm sorry I can't give you these in person. And I'm sorry to do it so suddenly, but I just couldn't wait anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. You were right when you said that things got bad when we were together. Maybe I mistook the feeling of being high for the feeling of falling in love. Maybe I was searching for anything to fill the empty spaces in my life. But now that I'm sober, really sober, I realize that what I thought we had just isn't there anymore. When I look at you, I just don't feel anything. Nothing that's real. I'm sorry, Ally. I can't live a life tied down to someone. That's just not me. I thought maybe it could be. I was wrong. And now, I need to make things right by letting you go. I've made up my mind. I only ask that you respect my decision.

- Jack

Ally set the papers down on the counter, her head spinning. Was none of this real? Moments played like a movie in her head. Jack urging her onto the stage. His hand on her chest in a dim hotel room. Laughing on the tour bus. Writing in a diner. The wind on the back of his motorcycle, Charlie in the yard, a guitar string ring, lights, showers, piano music. Was it all a lie? Some drug-induced trip he'd fallen into, a dream she'd let herself believe in? It had all been too good to be true, after all. That some superstar could waltz into a drag bar and fall in love with her.

He'd traced her nose and called her beautiful. Now he said he felt nothing at all.

How could he? How could he do this?

The scream building in her chest finally came out as a strangled shriek and she ran at the wall, punching the first thing her fist made contact with. Jack's glass-framed poster shattered at her touch. She didn't even feel the sting. It was exhilarating. It was freeing.

It wasn't enough.

With another scream, she grabbed the frame off the wall and tossed it onto the floor, the sound of breaking class like a distorted piano chord. She reached for the next one, and the next one – smashing and shattering and throwing them onto the floor, glass and paper falling around her as she raged a warpath through their hallway until the walls were bare. Only then did she sink onto the floor and dissolve into sobs.

Twenty-four hours ago she'd been feeling so happy – singing in Paris, knowing that she'd soon be able to hold Jack in her arms. Believing that with their love, they could survive anything. She had been Ally Maine, his Ally, his wife.

Now she was alone in their house, all of her dreams on the floor with nobody to hold her and nothing to ease the pain tearing her heart in two.