Title: Guilt.

Author: Miss Peg

Rating: T

Characters: Naomi/Emily, (with a side order of the Cookie Monster)

Summary: "Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death."

Disclaimer: Christmas is but a month away...you know you want to! ;D But no, currently, not mine.

Warning: Blood, guts and heartache.

Notes: This story was written for the Skins Big Bang (on Livejournal). There is an accompaning fanmix which is available by clicking on the link in my profile. Thank you to Lucy my artist for creating it. Also a huge thank you to tromana, my beta, my cheerleader, my support in writing this (and her cat Zara who insisted on helping too), she also created some graphics which can be found on my profile too.

Guilt.

"Guilt is regret for what we've done.

Regret is guilt for what we didn't do."

Author Unknown

IV

Red. Everywhere. Seeping through her body into the bed below, dripping off the edges of the wooden frame like gunge falling from a celebrities hair on television. Thick, lumpy red liquid invading her skin, her hair, taking over her vision until all she could see was red and all she could smell was death. A colour so prominent in her nightmares that waking up to a mouthful of red hair sent a panic through her until she couldn't breathe and Emily, her beautiful red headed Emily had to hold her steady to stop her from falling, to help her breath. Yet she still couldn't find an even pace until red was replaced by the chocolate of Emily's eyes and everything became so much easier.

'Cook,' she whispered under her breath, a reaction to the situation. She couldn't help it. Nor could she help the look in Emily's eyes, a look of pain and hurt. Hurt that she'd caused her already, again.

'I love you,' she cried out, tears falling without permission down the hills of her face. 'I thought, I forgot, I thought it was a dream.'

Lies, all lies, her words no longer reflected the truth she once felt in her heart and she had no control over that. Emily needed an answer that could bring a smile back to her face and there it was, that perfectly obscure diamond that her lips formed, soft lips that knew how to do so many wicked things. Lips that could ruin the world in less than five minutes, or at least distract her long enough not to notice the destruction forming. Emily was perfect in her flaws and that made everything even harder. Naomi had made mistakes and done the wrong thing countless times. She'd broken Emily and mended her again, yet had the power to destroy it all for a final time. In everything she had done she couldn't find any reason to love herself; fucking Sophia certainly wasn't a flaw anyone could care about. Her mood swings, her ability to drink and smoke herself into oblivion whenever anything went remotely wrong. Emily hated that, without using words she knew that was how Emily felt. Then there was her stubborn streak, her inability to do things she didn't want to do, or not do things she was desperate for. It brought her to Emily after all, yet it also took her to Sophia, to the bed of another girl.

'I love you Naomi, it's okay, it wasn't a dream.'

No, it wasn't. Unfortunately. If her waist wasn't being surrounded by Emily's arms she would have wondered if the last twenty-four hours had even happened. Not to miscount her current chickens, but she didn't want to lose Emily again. But maybe having not told Emily how sorry she was, perhaps she could go back and do the night over. A comforting thought, until it dawned on her that she probably would have done exactly the same. What other choice did she have? She owed Cook her freedom and now he owed her his. Everything she did after that phone call was done because of undeniable guilt, it was in theory the right thing to do. Then again a wrong thing done for the right reasons was still a wrong thing. That was the one part of it that she couldn't handle. She covered up a murder. She didn't help Cook out of a bit of mess with a girl, she covered up a crime that could land her in jail; a crime that could and probably would take her away from Emily.

V

Normality appeared like an alien taking over a planet, no matter how hard Naomi fought against what she really wanted, the harder it was to ignore the fact that life moved on. Her mum was due home in less than a week and there were just eight days until their trip to India. She was given a free pass from awkward criminal activity to normal life in only a couple of days. Embracing it was the hard part.

'We need to buy sun cream, after sun, hats, anything else you can think of Naomes?'

She was forced to think beyond what was capturing her attention. Forgetting the things she'd seen that night, the things she'd done didn't happen easily. Her conscience brought it up almost every single moment of each day; it woke her up when Emily was fast asleep, it became the only thing she thought about before she went to bed. Except Emily. Even that had been tinted, instead of thinking and dreaming about Emily's mouth fighting a fire within her soul; she ran scenarios of Emily discovering the truth. Over and over and over until she couldn't bear the thought of going to bed, so she stayed awake as long as possible, pleasuring Emily not because she wanted to but because she needed a distraction, she needed a reason to be awake. Emily never complained, in fact she drowned herself in the moments, embraced their ability to have sex every single night, sometimes multiple times. Under any other circumstance they were living a dream, a perfect existence where they were the only two occupants and pleasing each other the only goal in life. Emily always had been insatiable.

Every day became the same, rolling quickly into one with every waking minute. No longer were there times of day, instead merely moments that connected together in some subordinate way. Naomi wasn't living her life; she just went through the motions, living each moment to keep Emily happy and oblivious to her betrayal. Not a far cry from how she lived after Sophia. But the situations were different; she couldn't compare the two or put them in the same boat for fear of them becoming the same. She had to find justification in her recent actions if only to maintain her mental health. Losing Emily again was not an option, nor was being honest. Their lives were intrinsically linked, liked twins. No longer was it Emily and Katie, replaced instead by Naomi and Emily. That was how it should have been, always.

She never really believed in love until she met Emily, what was there to believe in? Her mother's failed relationships; all two of them, one before she was born and the other over around the time she first met Emily. No wonder she always ran. Loving Emily didn't take full blame, not when she didn't trust people. She'd never had anyone to trust. She actually believed trust was fake, constructed to keep the masses down. They put their trust in factory owners who screwed them out of every penny they could, they trusted the government to take care of their needs; they trusted each other even though some of them were probably thieves, rapists and murderers. No, Naomi couldn't put her trust in something that always led to hurt and pain. And then she saw Emily, that red hair sparkling in the corner of the hall, her tiny smile and wide eyes looking more nervous than she ever had in middle school. Except when they'd kissed. She'd rolled her eyes, scoffed at the thought of being in the same fucking form as the glorious Fitch twins. Really, her stomach was twisted in knots and her heart beating ahead of itself. She didn't want her body to control her emotions, she felt powerless. What other option did she have? Force herself to repel everyone and everything, or succumb to those large, brown beautiful eyes staring her down.

From that moment on she suspected her plan would fail, she'd spent years after their kiss battling confusion. She wasn't gay, she didn't think about kissing girls every single night, kissing a girl. She didn't dream of sex, sex in the conventional way but with Emily's face replacing every boy she ever got close to. She didn't really sleep with any of them, how could she when the moment they got close she felt sick? She could count on one hand how many boys from school she'd actually thrown herself on and how many she'd kicked out of bed. And then it happened, that kiss where she told Emily that it meant nothing, yet continued to kiss her for twenty minutes after. They didn't just kiss, they lay together, their bodies pressed together in all the wrong places...the right places. Emily became all she could think about, dream about and then she saw her, again. The lake, Emily's underwear, soaked to the skin. She tried to look away even when Emily wore that jumper, the jumper she thought about ripping off her until Emily removed it and they kissed and kissed, until Emily wasn't kissing her lips anymore and every dream she'd ever denied became a reality. No matter how hard she tried to close her heart and mind off from it.

That was how she felt in the days after she helped Cook bury John Foster. Guilty because she'd done something that was right for one person but so wrong for the other. Something she knew could ruin her whilst being everything she knew had to happen. She felt ashamed that she'd done that to Emily, again.

VI

India. The greatest country in the world, or at least it felt like it. The distraction Naomi had been searching for was there, in a tiny hotel in Goa. Like most holidays she'd ever taken it was an opportunity to think about everything she wanted to and ignore everything she didn't. Her focus was Emily; spending hours talking to Emily and the various strangers they met on their travels, kissing Emily under the gentle colours of a sky at sunset, making love to Emily everywhere she could think of. What more could she want in life but Emily? She spent every waking moment sharing memories and dreams with her girl, in a city they both wanted to visit, at a time when they both wanted nothing more, nothing less. But then the evening would end, Emily would drift off into an orgasm induced coma and every fear, every worry would seep back into her life as though nothing had changed. Nothing had changed, except the location and at times, the language. She was still Naomi, she was still the girl that helped her best friend cover up a heinous crime and she was still lying to the one person she promised she wouldn't lie to again. But like the even breathing of Emily's sleep reminded her of her mistakes. Yet, at the same time, the smile on Emily's lips would remind her the next day that they were in India. It was their city of love and they could pretend, if only for a brief while, that everything in life was perfect and that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them.

They didn't leave the hotel separately, a decision made long before either of them had even set foot on Indian soil. They weren't scared of venturing out alone, or at least Naomi wasn't; they just didn't want to be apart. Until, the morning when Emily felt sick. They woke up as they did most mornings, they kissed and cuddled and wished the sunlight seeping through the curtains wasn't demanding their attention. They got up and showered together because they enjoyed the menial task of washing side by side. They went to breakfast, where they lavished on traditional Indian food before wandering through the market at the end of their road. They stopped, drank some of their water and then Emily complained of a stomach ache. The first thing Naomi did was take her home, to the comfort of their hotel room. There she put her to bed, gave her some water and told her to rest up while she found a chemist. They'd been expecting it; it was time of the month when Emily spent half a day in bed writhing in pain. She hated leaving Emily's side and wished they'd planned ahead and brought enough painkillers for their six weeks. As she wandered back from the chemist a few blocks away, she noticed a building she'd seen dozens of times, yet never really noticed. That street was their favourite place to stare into each other's eyes and forget for one moment that they were not the only people in the world. Now she was alone she was given the chance to really see what was there, the things that represented all that was wrong with India.

A little boy sat on the front step, staring up at her with large, dark eyes. At first Naomi imagined him to be Emily as a child, no older than five, those bug eyes just as dark as the ones of her girlfriend. But he wasn't Emily. He was alone, his t-shirt plagued with dirt and his hair greying from the dust in the street. His eyes were so full of sorrow and suffering that Naomi felt tears sting her eyes. When she looked the tiny child up and down she found his feet to be twisted in and when he stood up he wobbled about. He gabbled away at her in Konkani, but not the language she'd heard so many times around her. She didn't know the language, bar a few words, yet even she recognised that the little boy spoke it badly. Her heart skipped along whilst her hands began to shake and there, under the golden sun, Naomi was reminded of back home; of Cook, of all of the things she wished to forget. Her crimes appeared simple; she'd helped in the cover up of a death. But really they were more complex; she'd lied and still was lying to Emily. She lived a life of luxury, a corrupt life which she didn't deserve when that little boy who now cried for his mother had nothing, no one. She feared losing Emily, feared losing the only thing in her life that had ever made sense, even when she hadn't let herself know just how much sense it made. But losing Emily didn't make her a pauper; it made her less wealthy, ultimately still blessed by a mother, a step-father and friends. The little boy still sobbed beside her, his grubby thumb placed carefully between open lips, he had absolutely nothing.

Naomi watched as his tears dried up and he wandered into the market, his tiny fingers outstretched to the people he passed. The stallholders ignored him, whilst tourists milled around looking at him with sorrowful expressions and looks of guilt. He wasn't the only child she saw. On closer inspection there were several hidden by the crowds, street children who she caught sight of, as she returned to the hotel, gathered together showing what they'd got from the strangers at the market. The little boy's eyes filled when he shook his head and an older child smacked him for his inability to provide for their little family. She regretted not handing him the snacks she'd bought on her way through. What did it matter if she had them or not? She'd eaten breakfast and lunch was well within her means, those children looked like they hadn't eaten for days. It took all her energy to push the tears back into her eyes until they gathered as a lump in her throat, which hurt. But the pain was nothing compared to her guilt; guilt over having more than she needed, guilt over Emily not being able to leave the hotel room and most of all, guilt of what she'd done.

'I met a little boy we need to adopt,' she announced the second she opened the hotel room door and climbed onto the bed beside Emily.

Emily raised an eyebrow at Naomi. 'We're adopting children?'

'I'm serious; he was sat on the side of the street on his own. I don't think he had any family, or anything. He got hit by an older kid.'

'So you want to take him home?'

'You would too if you met him.'

'We'll go meet our new child tomorrow before we go home, but today I demand we watch the rest of the film from last night and please tell me you have some pills for me.'

'Of course.'

The film ended for Emily long before they got through it, Naomi flicked off the remote and stroked Emily's hair back from her face, kissing her cheek. Her breath evened out with sleep, her chest rising and falling slowly. She lay on Emily's left facing her back; memories of their first night sharing a bed flooded her mind. The stillness of Emily's sleeping form unchanged from over eighteen months earlier. She reached a hand out to her hair, running her fingers through those bright locks without fear, reminiscing a time when life was easier. She'd been scared, frightened of her sexuality and how being with Emily made her feel, yet somehow that fear was nothing compared to how she felt now. Her fingers travelled across Emily's arm, across her skin in the shapes of flowers and stars, Emily's skin so soft underneath her touch. She'd thought about kissing her back then, that night, when they lay there talking about sex, it took all of her energy not to lean in and let their lips meet. Now Emily was there, moving in her sleep, rolling over until her beautiful features twitched and she moved in closer, snuggling up against Naomi's body. There was nothing she could do but stay there, hold her beautiful girlfriend as though the world was perfect, when really; it was on the edge of being anything but.

VII

India was over, the anticipation of going away together been and gone. They arrived home in the middle of the day to news of Freddie's murder. Gina greeted them with an over-the-top hug and mumbled confusion over whether they were alive or dead. Then she told them.

Emily was the first to react.

'What?' she cried out, her hand directed to her mouth when tears started to fall.

The shock silenced Naomi in words and emotions; shock not of their friend's absence of life, or the murder, but of fear and dread that eventually, somehow, her part in the murder of Freddie's killer would be revealed. Then her knees buckled.

'Naomi,' Gina gasped, her arms outstretched in time in catch her, support her, until Emily wrapped her clammy, shaking fingers around one arm and the two of them guided her into the house.

She didn't know Freddie, not like Cook and JJ. She'd laughed with Emily about him being the fun sponge in the group; his constant moods over Effy depressed them all. She'd had approximately two conversations alone with him in their time as 'friends', the reality was that they had the same friendship circle and that was their similarities ended. He liked skateboarding and getting high, she liked politics and deep debates (and getting high). He loved Effy, she loved Emily. Okay, so the differences weren't shocking. She guessed the only thing they ever really had in common was getting high and falling for someone that only created more issues in their boring lives.

'When did you find out?' Emily asked in her quietest voice, the voice that she used when she was on the verge of crying. Naomi had heard it before, many times; the worst and most recent time being on that roof, after she found out about Sophia.

'I could be dead in a second…everything's, so, fragile.'

That tone of voice split Naomi's heart, not least for the pain it caused Emily, but for her guilt, her regret over losing part of her for months when all she'd ever really needed was Emily. She'd wasted time, time she should have spent planning her future with her girlfriend, time that, had it been how she envisioned it to be, wouldn't have led to that night.

'I got a call yesterday from your mum, Emily.'

'Katie,' Emily whispered as if realising for the first time that she had a sister. She stood up then dropped to her seat again. 'I don't know if I can handle seeing her yet.'

'You don't have to if you don't want love,' Gina assured her, resting a hand over the top of Emily's, holding it steady.

Naomi didn't speak, couldn't speak let alone form words in her throat. She considered the various reasons a person became paralysed, tried to establish if perhaps she had some medical condition that stopped her from moving, speaking and worst of all, breathing.

AN: I've been working on this story since August. I've invested months of my time thinking up and creating this story. Please take just a moment out of your lives to review. I'll be forever grateful!