I finished this at 5am this morning because I woke up with a horrible stomachache and couldn't fall back to sleep. So, here's the second to last chapter. Thank you for all your reviews and theories. Some of you are very close. :)

Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

He doesn't hear from her for a few weeks after that. He shows up at her house a couple times, sees a light on but she doesn't answer the door. She takes time off of work, and the nurse from that day outside tells him not to take it personally, but he can't help but worry. Going to the coffee shop they frequent by himself just makes him feel pathetic, and he realizes just how much he's relied on her in those past few weeks that she has him.

He thinks about her bartending one night, thinks about all she's been through, and all the little things she's shared with him. He's learned a lot about her and he's grateful for that.

He just wishes she wouldn't shut him out.

To his surprise, she comes into the bar that night with Trish (who is now with Dez and its just weird) and comes up like she's done something wrong. She's apologizing for something she doesn't have to, and finally, she just relaxes into a bar seat, much to the chagrin of a busty blonde to her right. Ally either doesn't see the dirty look she's being given, or just doesn't care.

"Can I get something to drink?" she asks, her voice quiet.

He hasn't seen her drink before, even on those nights before they became… whatever they are when she was being dragged her by her slightly insane friend. He doesn't know what she's looking for, so he motions to the wall of liquor behind him, "What would you like?"

"You're the bartender," she teases with a smile. "Make me something good. Something… strong."

It's out of his mouth before he realizes, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Ally gives him a fleeting look, "Yes."

So, he does. She drinks the mixture he makes her, just a tad sweet, in less than two minutes. She places the glass down in front of him and requests another. Austin has no idea what her alcohol tolerance is, but isn't about to lecture her about how to drink when she's a fully functioning and capable adult. So, he gives her another.

She's had four by the time he can see she's clearly close to, if not drunk already.

A lightweight, which doesn't surprise him. She's all but one hundred pounds probably, and from what he can see, doesn't drink all that often. The busty blonde got up disgusted a few minutes before, clear that she wasn't going to win over him by batting her false eyelashes and pulling her dress down more and more. He's too concerned about Ally, anyway.

She's requesting another drink.

He's careful when he says, "How about a soda? Or water?"

She eyes him with the most pathetic angry look, something a puppy might try to do in order to show he's tough. It's pretty much comical, but he doesn't want to laugh. Something tells him that she's tougher than she looks, and he doesn't want her to take a swing, or something of that nature.

"I want another," she slurs, and Austin knows he's got a duty as a bartender to cut someone off when they've had enough. Even if she hates him for it, he tells her no.

She tries to get up, storm off, but only makes it a few feet before stumbling to the floor.

He thinks he's won until she nails him in the face, fast and hard.

Then collapses again.

Like he said, a lightweight.

Dez looks up in alarm from where he's standing with Trish, who is about to hurry over when he puts a hand up, signaling that he's got it. He motions to Dez a symbol, one that means he's leaving and to cover for him. Ally is mumbling half-assed threats and he smiles because she's absolutely adorable angry. He carries her bridal style out of the bar, and to his car, where he situates her in the backseat, body facing down so that she could rest.

He gets her home with only minutes to spare before the room starts to spin and she declares she's going to be sick. He helps her into the bathroom (where the sink is leaking again) in time for her to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet, groaning the entire time.

It's like this for a while, and Austin fascinates himself with trying to fix the leaky sink in-between holding her hair up and rubbing her back. Then, she collapses against the wall and groans, "I'm never drinking again."

"I was kind of surprised you did," he admits.

She sighs, "It's been a bad few days."

He doesn't answer, but nods in a way that allows her to continue.

"Mandated therapy," she explains. "The guy is a twat."

He snorts, surprised that she uses that kind of language and waits for her to continue.

"I am not getting help there," she growls. "I'm getting told things. He says I'm too this, or I'm too that. That I'm suffering from PTSD and that I'm doing this to myself. I need to let go, move on. Who says that? Doesn't he get it? I can't just move on. I lost the only person I had left."

Austin feels horrible for her, but she's not done.

"He told me to sell this place and get rid of any reminder of him. It'll be the only way to help myself. I told him I felt helpless, scared most nights. I can't sleep because I'm afraid that I'm going to wake up to … that standing over me again. That this time, he's not here to protect me. This time, it's going to be ending up on the floor. Violated."

Austin swallows, remembering coming into the house. It's a horrible picture, one he'd love to erase.

This guy does sound like a dick, but he doesn't have to say that.

"He doesn't know how it feels to feel helpless. You know what he did? He threw me a cocktail of prescriptions, and asked how I'd be paying for my visit this month. I left."

Austin grows angry. Who allowed this kind of dick to practice?

"I'm tired of feeling helpless," she whispers.

He doesn't answer, only places a hand on her shoulder.

She's sobbing again.

"I'm sorry."