A/N: I had been wanting to write a fic about Sarah and Alison talking about their respective encounters with murder, but I never could fully form the idea into something I liked. And then today's sneak peek rolled around, and a wonderful wave of inspiration hit me. Not my best work, but this was a one-shot that I've been waiting on for a little while, so here it is.
And yes... yes I did make a very, very small reference to (shudders) lumberpunk, alright? It fit in with the situation, but I ship Sarah with happiness (coughCosimacough) so let's not fight over that one. This is mainly a Sarah/Alison fic anyways.
Also, Felix is probably horribly OOC here (I doubt he would panic like I have depicted) but, as I said before, not my best work, so just.. I dunno, let it happen.
"She wha?" Sarah's voice spoke over the phone, exasperation and confusion mixing into her tone at the sound of Felix's panicked one.
"She's just inconsolable Sarah, I don't know what to say to her!" Felix replied in a frantic whisper, peering back into the room where he had left Alison momentarily to call his foster sister. "She told me not to tell you, but she's not calming down!"
"Say it to me again," Sarah said steadily, readily becoming the rock that Felix had come to rely on for most of his life.
"Alison just told me that she killed Aynsley," he repeated slowly, trying to block out the way that the woman in question was now muttering to herself. Recognizing that he needed to get back in there, and soon, he spoke up again, "I don't know what to do with her Sarah, you need to get over here. Now."
"Right, like I can so easily leave this idiot who's too smart for his own good without him asking questions," Sarah grumbled, her voice quiet as well, like she didn't want to draw attention to herself.
"What idiot are you... no, you know what, it doesn't matter," Felix sighed. Whatever crazy shit his sister was getting herself into at the moment wasn't his problem. "You'll figure something out. Just get over here."
"How is she?" Sarah asked, slightly out of breath when she arrived in the hall outside her brother's flat.
"Bloody mental," he replied, jerking a thumb over in the direction of the slightly open door, where a constant stream of Alison's voice was drifting through. "She might freak when she sees you, so just.. don't say I didn't warn you."
"I've got it from here Free, thanks," she said by way of dismissal as she walked towards the door and pushed it open. With her hands ready in case Alison suddenly lashed out, she entered her brother's flat.
And came across the sight of Alison pacing back and forth, her hands twitching about as she talked to herself. "..suppose it was just the house that did it, I mean really, it was her own fault, so it was suicide right? Yes yes yes... yes, that's perfectly reasonable. Except I could have stopped her. Judas Priest.. Judas.. I could have.. like I hadn't been able to stop Beth, so I suppose.. I must've killed her, I mean, just like I killed Beth, I should have been able to prevent both so-"
"Alison?" Sarah asked, her voice cautious.
At her voice, Alison whirled around, one hand instinctively jumping to her hip, as if she was going for her gun. "Sarah!" she exclaimed, her voice tight, high-pitched and nervous. "What are you doing here?!"
"Force of habit?" Sarah dodged the question for the moment, pointing instead to Alison's hand that was curled over the empty air at her right hip.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated again, her voice voice dangerously calm as her hand went to her face, her fingers tapping a beat against her lips.
"I wont lie, Alison," she said, deciding to just get straight to the point before Alison turned volatile. "Felix called me. Told me everything."
"That lying, ungrateful man!" Alison suddenly shrieked, whirling around to find something to defend herself with, to react to the threat that Sarah, and her words, presented.
Sarah's street smarts kicked in and, while Alison's back was to her, she kicked at her knees and sat on her calves once she had hit the floor. "Alison! Alison, just listen to me a minute, yeah? Just.. it doesn't matter if you think you killed her or not, alright?"
"Get off me!" she shrieked as she squirmed, tried to reach around herself so she could get at the woman who held her down.
"Will you.. would you just stop bloody struggling please and listen?" Sarah sighed and hooked Alison's elbows with her forearm, pushing her shoulder with her other hand, sending Alison face-first into the ground with a pitiful thump. Ignoring her muffled protest, she continued on, "Are you gonna listen now?"
"I can't possibly see that whatever you have to say will help me at all in this situation," Alison shot back, managing to sound haughty and uptight even with her face pressed into Felix's ratty carpet. "It's not like you've killed someone before, though with your history as a grifter, maybe I shouldn't put it past-"
"I killed Helena, Alison," Sarah said quietly, her voice somber as her grip loosened, allowing Alison to sit up and absorb the shock of the statement.
"Y.. you... you killed...?" Alison stuttered, crossing her recently freed arms in front of herself and setting herself up primly in front of Sarah as if she hadn't just been shoved to the floor.
"Helena, yes," Sarah finished heavily. "I had the gun and she was on the other end and... I just.. I shot her, alright?"
"Sarah... that's-"
"I betrayed family, Alison, killing Helena like that. And you.. what? Watched Aynsley die? You're not the murderer, Alison. I am," she growled at herself, standing abruptly and heading over to the cabinet to get a drink.
"Judas Priest Sarah...," she whispered, her eyes tracking the punk woman's movements as she made her way over to the couch, her steps unsteady in her shock. Helena. Shot. By Sarah. Helena, dead. Finally. Killed by Sarah.
A drink, held aloft by Sarah's surprisingly steady hand, appeared in front of her eyes, interrupted her thoughts before they went too far. Alison accepted the glass as Sarah flopped over onto the couch opposite her, throttling the neck of a nearly full bottle of whiskey. She tilted the glass to her lips, not even bother to complain that she only drank wine. Once the first sip burned its way down her throat, she threw the rest back without hesitation and held out her arm for more. As Sarah poured her another round, Alison got the feeling that over the next few hours, she, and Sarah, were going to need a lot more alcohol just to numb the horror.
Judas Priest, what have we done?