As soon as they found themselves in Allie's car, the already tight, enclosed space only shrunk on the pair even more, suffocating them under the weight of everything they still don't dare to say. Allie absentmindedly put on her seatbelt with a defeated gaze, her eyes shifting away in utter shame, above everything else. For the whole drive, she didn't say much of anything. As the seemingly endless road stretched on before them, she remained completely absent, almost faraway. Her frail, unresponsive, exhausted body was physically there, not even halfway filling that much too large seat but her mind was somewhere else, a thousand miles away, a place Bea couldn't see or even touch.

She didn't know why it bothered her so much that she just…couldn't. Because the invisible walls Allie had put up stood tall - a concrete, impenetrable structure, no entrance point in sight. And what they spelled was "don't come any closer...or do it at your own risk."

Bea stole fugitive, meaningful glances of the blonde's broken profile but, in the short time she's known her, she's never seen her get like this. Allie seemed almost…lost. In sight, but painfully out of reach. She was barely holding herself together, just staring out the window with all the limited energy she still held, everything about her simply…fallen, from her droopy, half-open eyes, to her entire visage.

She rested her head on her palm and looked on, as the flickering orbs from outside shone dimly, casting a faded light she no longer held on moving stranger faces, searching for their way home all the same, with each hurried step.

Only difference? Allie never knew what a home was. On most days, she barely had a house.

Bea had to look away, not bearing the sight any longer. She reminded her of Debbie when she saw her own father get taken to jail, as the ear-splitting, off-tune symphony of police sirens raged on, drowning her sobs. The picture she couldn't stand to contemplate for a single more second now was eerily similar, almost identical.

The redhead couldn't get through to her own daughter for days. She stood in that same passenger's seat Allie was occupying now on the ride back from the police station, after a gruesome round of questioning – she was so wounded and vulnerable, not understanding anything, not saying anything. That drive was the longest one of her life.

Until now.

She couldn't shake this strong feeling of déjà vu clawing at her with every fleeting, hesitant glance in the flower girl's direction. There were already so many ways she compared Allie to her own daughter and she still didn't understand why. However, this was one instance that didn't fill her with any touch of happiness or light, which was what she always associated with Debbie…and, on some level, maybe Allie, too.

Because she couldn't stand the thought of any of the above happening with her. She didn't know why the thought of this strange, dorky blonde girl she barely even knew closing herself off to her for good petrified her so much, filled her with such dread and…hurt.

Why did she even care so much? What were they? Friends? It sounded close. But if that were true, the sight before her shouldn't be destroying her all the same, shouldn't make her picture her own daughter that she failed to protect…shouldn't make her feel like…

She was failing all over again.

Her heart clenched tightly in her chest and any encouraging words she had lingering on her lips were vanishing into thin air, one unspoken syllable at a time. So much so that she could hardly concentrate on the road ahead and only faintly heard the blonde's absent instructions on where she should go.

It wasn't her voice.

When they finally did reach their destination and she opened the car door for a reluctant, closed-off Allie who kept insisting that she was fine, that she could walk on her own, that she didn't need any help, Bea's heart dropped more, then fell to the floor altogether. It was almost like Allie's lack of willpower passed onto her – she couldn't pick it up even if she wanted to.

As soon as she unlocked the front door and walked in, she was immediately drawn to a faded picture depicting an older woman who looked similar to Allie. Bea suspected that she was a relative or someone important to her. Not a moment later, her eyes fell upon the different types of flowers in every space of the blonde's living room.

She couldn't pinpoint a single color if anyone asked.

As Bea shifted around some more, she noticed something else, blissfully unaware of Allie following every flicker of her empathetic gaze like a magnet. Everything about her mannerisms still spelled…shame, more than anything else.

"They stopped working."

Her strained, barely audible tone still resonated like a single needle dropping to the floor of a dead silent room.

Sleeping pills. Half a container already emptied.

"Look, Bea…I'm..I'm so sorry about this, I just…it's not work, alright? I….I get nightmares sometimes—" - Allie croaked in a hollow, apologetic voice, running an angry hand through her hair, already pacing back and forth frantically in her living room….again.

"You don't have to explain anything to me."

"You must think I'm pathetic right now—"

I don't.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

It does to me.

"I've seen some things, alright, b-but they're in the past, okay, I don't know why this keeps happening to me, I'm really, really sorry about this-" - Allie took a deep breath and tried again, barely getting the words out.

Her voice shook then cracked altogether.

"It's not that simple, Allie..." – Bea probed cautiously, with the tentative stance you'd use to approach a wounded animal, not knowing what to say or what to do. "If what you saw left a mark, that doesn't just get erased. And it's not like you asked for them."

Bea's tone was calm on surface, despite the deafening warzone that was her heart right now. All she knew was that she didn't want to scare Allie off more than she already was. Because if she learned another thing by now, it was that she couldn't stand to hear Allie's pain either.

Unfortunately, that was one sense she couldn't simply turn off at the drop of a hat. It was the worst moment to have that realization.

"Everyone gets nightmares sometimes. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

At the same time, a similar flash of realization blazed in someone else's eyes, someone who was glancing at her now like she finally deciphered a life-long mystery.

"You get them too….don't you?"

No answer.

Or maybe, all the answers.

"How'd you make them go away?"

"What makes you think they have..?" - Bea asked, more like a heavy, muffled whisper than a question. She had no idea what prompted her to say it.

Maybe the answer was as simple as "I just wanted her to feel less alone in this."

Maybe it was as complicated as "I feel like I can trust her…and I don't know why".

Because she rarely trusted anyone. It wasn't something she just gave, it was something you had to earn.

Bea cast an absent, preoccupied look out the window just in time to catch the raindrops falling and hear them collide with every surface, rhythmically, like a beautiful symphony. But, like everything else that ever brought her some semblance of comfort, it didn't last - it wasn't long before the less pleasant, deafening noise of clashing clouds reached her ears. The roaring sound and the abrupt change made the blonde flinch, too.

A thunderstorm was coming.

It was no match for the one raging inside of her.

"So then how do you….what can you do?"

"Wait it out, I guess?" – Bea answered, following Allie's nonverbal cue to take a seat on her living room couch. "Sometimes Franky would hold me. First few times I wouldn't let her but, you've seen her, she doesn't take no for an answer. Sometimes uh..sometimes my daughter."

"You have a daughter?" – Allie asked, taking her sneakers off, then sitting down next to Bea with her legs crossed, maintaining a much too great distance, one that appeared and felt unnatural.

It wasn't lost on the redhead that this was the first trace of a real smile that she's seen on her face since leaving the salon.

"Yeah…Her name's Debbie, she's 19, she's at UNI now."

"Bet you miss her like crazy, huh?"

"Yeah…I do..I…everyday…but I want her to have this, she deserves it, you know, she deserves good things." – Bea added, shying away from the blonde's questioning, open gaze, fumbling with her sleeves, unconsciously.

"So do you."

'Don't know about that."

"I do."

The fact that Allie said it with such raw honesty and unwavering conviction yet again made Bea reluctantly face her, needing a visual confirmation that she meant it, too. She still didn't know where that kept coming from. Allie hardly knew her.

"Another thing I tried was uh… remember that whatever it was, it couldn't touch me, couldn't do anything to me…because it's just a dream..dreams have no power over you when you wake up, right?"

If Allie's messed up heart wasn't already in pieces, those words could have split it apart. Because she finally put two and two together – Bea must've seen even worse than her. Yet she was still here, still trying to help her, a stranger, not even a friend. Was she?

Raging guilt hit Allie like a sucker punch to the gut, as a knot steadily rose in her throat. She gulped a few times to make it go away – no use. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Or..you're gonna hate this one…whatever haunts you in your dreams, try to resolve it when you wake up..?"

"And if you can't?"

"Then you ask for help. Talk to someone who knows what they're doing, like Bridget…y'know, counselling, therapy…?"

"A shaman?"

Allie's joke didn't make as much as a dent in the palpable tension filling every corner of this room. As expected, Bea wasn't amused. Nothing about this conversation was even in the neighborhood of funny to her.

"Sorry…it's just..not my style. I don't do…." – the blonde gestured weakly and dismissively with her right arm. "Talking."

As soon as the words left her lips, Allie realized that this, right here, right now, was the most talking she did. And not just about her nightmares, but about anything real, anything that matters.

"Me neither, Allie, trust me, but you don't have much of a choice, y-you …you have to do something, I-I mean, look at you—"

The torn redhead's voice trembled and cracked unannounced by the end, as she pointed to Allie's worn-out, sickly-pale exterior, desperately trying to make her take this seriously, see herself through her eyes right now.

"Is that you trying to tell me I look awful, Bea?"

And failing…

"Cause that would really break a woman's ego-"

"Priorities, Allie? You have to let someone help you."

Please.

Something about Bea's piercingly honest, no-bullshit, urging tone made the flower girl readjust her stance, both physically and mentally. She sighed heavily, before running a hand through her much shorter hair, barely speaking, that noose around her neck only tightening more with every word.

"I don't think anyone can, I mean I…I tried everything, right, even sleeping pills and I don't take pills for anything, not even a headache. Nothing works. Anyone who saw even a little just…waltzed out of here, freaked out, showed me the door or just…left themselves cuz it was too much to handle. I'm sorry, this is…it's…."

Not what I wanted you to see.

"….not your problem to deal with so you can, you can go now if you want, I won't hold it against you or anything, you've already done more than enough for me—"

Allie was so distracted, she didn't stop to notice or process her own hectic, anxious gestures – she was biting her bottom lip and picking at the skin around her fingers unconsciously all the way through her explanation, talking more to the floor, avoiding Bea's gaze like it was physically burning her.

She meant it – talking only made it worse for her in the past. She had a feeling she was about to ruin everything now, too.

"You really love to ramble, don't you?"

That line, delivered with absolutely no trace of resentment, fear or even disgust and Bea giving her a weak, teasing smile was just about the last reaction she expected.

"Can't help it, it's how I'm wired, Bea. Whoever created me deserves a refund cause something went terribly wrong, I'm tellin' ya-"

In any other context, the older woman would have playfully bumped her shoulder or shot any witty comeback her way because this idiot still made a joke out of everything, including an issue as severe as this was. But now, something wouldn't let her.

"I don't get scared easily. So you're…" – she sighed, hesitantly reaching for Allie's hand, silencing her senseless rambling in an instant.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that." - she added, holding it protectively in her callous one with all the courage she held, giving it a light squeeze, then letting go.

Allie choked immediately, unshed tears forming in her eyes yet again, along with a million words taking space in her head that she couldn't verbalize. She didn't even notice them…but Bea did.

"What if I got a pet snake for the office, eh?"

And it destroyed her even more that the florist still saw fit to make another joke – because she was starting to realize this was another one of her…things. Using humor as a shield. She wasn't angry at Allie's defense mechanism, she was angry at the whole world for making her need one in the first place.

"Well that would be the best way to make sure I never step foot in there ever again.."

"No way, we can't have that. Sssssnaky can go."

Or maybe the blonde was also trying to defuse the situation to make her comfortable. She would. Even if it wasn't the time or place to worry about that. Bea didn't know what to do with that realization striking her out of nowhere. If she had any space left in her think-about-later box, she'd add it in there.

Maybe she needed to buy a new one. More like a hundred boxes.

"Nerd." – Bea fake-coughed.

She could play along. For her sake, if nothing else.

"I wear it like a badge of honor, Bea."

"Of horror, you mean."

"I'll have you know nerds invented the best things in the world."– the blonde added, smugly, like the world's proudest geek. "A'right, listen up – sliced bread, latte art, answering machines, smart parking-"

"Says the nerd. Defending your people, aren't ya?"

"Well, someone has to."

But this time around, Allie's fake bravado and empty laughter didn't last longer than a few seconds. What was once a very easy front to maintain to perfection suddenly felt impossible to keep around someone who seemed to see through every crack. And she did.

Because the florist was still smiling but Bea caught up on the crumbling façade immediately – her gaze dropped, as a thoughtful, faraway air surrounded her yet again. She opened her mouth a few times, struggling with the words, biting her bottom lip even harder.

"Could you uh…could you maybe…do that for me?"

"Do what?"

"Hold me."

By the time Allie remembered Bea's aversion to being touched and what her stupid proposition would entail for her, it was already much too late to take it back, the words already flew out of her mouth. 5 espressos Allie really had no filter.

But the conflicted blonde would rather take a bullet to the head right now than admit that her words had nothing to do with the lingering effects of caffeine…which had long since worn-off because her tolerance was sky-high lately.

"Never mind, forget I asked—"

She had no right to ask. For that, or anything else, for that matter. Guilt hit her like a freight train yet again. She had to fix it, apologize. She was just about to, when Bea spoke over her.

"Y-you think that's gonna help?"

Is she seriously considering this?

Why not? Of course Bea would put her needs first, of course. The flower girl was starting to suspect it was just something she did for everyone because that's the kind of person she was. But since Allie already opened that can of worms and she couldn't back down now, she might as well walk all the way.

"I…I don't know."

And maybe she owed her at least an explanation for her strange request. It was her last resort – the one thing she didn't try.

"I mean, I..I wouldn't know 'cause I.…I never…."

I never had anyone do it.

"Nevermind."

She didn't need to say it. Bea saw right through her – she heard the message loud and clear. She didn't need to know the reason either – that truth was still enough to fill her with unshakeable…anger. It was a degree and type of anger she wasn't ready for, one she couldn't place anywhere or even identify. She thought she experienced all brands of fire and fury known to man but this… this felt different. It came blended with confusion, on top of hurt and sheer outrage. Because how could anyone… not?

Who wouldn't do that for someone like her?

What Bea had no way of knowing was that, for Allie, most, if not all people left after the act. They didn't stick around for cuddling or pillow talk or anything that involved any emotion or attachment or real connection beyond ripped clothes in a fit of passion. She couldn't remember the last time anyone tried to sleep with her…just sleep. Probably never. Or hold her for longer than it takes for the heat to wear off, hold her with no strings attached, without expecting it or even demanding it to lead to something else.

"I'll um…I'll be right back, I'm gonna go change. If you decide to leave, it won't matter to me, you've already done enough, Bea, I mean it. Thank you for fixing me." – Allie pointed to her shorter cut with a shaky hand, still smiling so brightly through those tears threatening to fall…but not daring to, before fading out of Bea's sight, one weak step at a time, unaware of her gaze boring into her back as she did.

Allie wasn't just talking about her hair.

And when the blonde returned a few minutes later, dressed in casual shorts and a loose fitting T-shirt, climbing down each step with practiced caution, least she'd fall over again, the air got knocked out of her lungs right there. She stopped dead in her tracks, blinking rapidly in disbelief, as she caught sight of that familiar flash of red again.

She hasn't moved an inch.

Everyone else would have run to the other side of the world by now.

"You…you're still here."

"Told you I don't get scared easily."

Not even the brightest sunray could hold a candle to Allie's smile right now.

"You will once you hear me rap, Bea."

Bea rolled her eyes, stifling a giggle, her gaze falling upon the blonde's frame in an up and down motion, noting the change in attire. She shook her head, belatedly realizing just how hard she was staring. It wasn't her fault everyone had….legs. You're bound to look at someone's, coincidentally, at least once in life…Allie's just happened to cross her line of vision. It happens. Right?

Legs for days, eh, Red?

As expected, much like the real-life counterpart, voice-over Franky also had the worst timing and the common sense of a shoe.

"Besides.. I owe you one, my best friend is alive and kicking, not floating somewhere in a sewer because of you…"

She opened her mouth to say something, collect her thoughts, but, for a single moment, everything went blank and nothing came out.

"Because y-you…you uh…"

Hi…

She stammered, then faltered altogether.

Are you sure you're alright?

Without a heads-up, her mind took her somewhere, too.

"You calmed me down yesterday."

She finished with a soft exhale, unaware of her energy changing, along with her entire exterior. She wore this calm, dazed expression now…because she wasn't just thinking about it, she was relieving it. This time she was going somewhere Allie couldn't see or touch, a place she created herself, ironically. That particular moment was also one of the biggest reasons why her think-about-later-box was overflowing – something else the blonde may never know.

But maybe Allie didn't need to know the reason – she still embraced the change. The sight alone was enough to make her crack a weak, grateful smile in response, one that didn't communicate a tenth of what she ached to say.

"It's only fair."

"Alright..I um..I don't want to go upstairs, I.."

Too many not so pleasant memories up there.

"Just…you mind staying here? Easier to run for the door 'case you change your mind, there's a fire escape too, by the way—"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear any of that. But if you're playing me and there's a pet snake hidden in here, anywhere, I'm out right now, I mean it, Allie—"

It was at that moment that Allie stopped fighting all-together. Because she was more terrified by the prospect of seeing a snake than seeing all of her. Even the awful parts no one would touch with a ten-foot pole, the ugly sides, cracks and imperfections everyone steered clear off…parts she could barely stand herself.

She wanted to kiss her. More than she wanted to kiss anyone.

"No snakes. Cross my heart."

She had no right to do that, either.

Instead, she punctuated her promise by crossing her heart with an X and pouting like a dork, resuming her spot on the couch next to Bea, then inching closer to her with more lingering tears in her eyes, just below the surface.

"G-good.."

"So is it okay if I—"

"Yeah…"

Bea was instantly taken aback by how small, hesitant and…scared Allie looked right now. She didn't know if it was all the ways the blonde reminded her of her own daughter's struggle with nightmares or that shattered image staring back at her, peering into her soul, leaving painful marks in its wake…

But not even her own nerves or the sound of her heart threatening to burst out of her chest in anticipation could stop her.

She needed to at least try to help Allie.

Because not trying would have hurt her more than trying and failing.

"Come here."

Allie reluctantly complied, awkwardly leaning into Bea's much too inviting, extended arm, resting her head on her shoulder, still treading cautiously, tentatively…like she had no right to be there. The fact that she felt the redhead's whole body tense on contact only cemented her worries, almost made her retreat her frame on the spot…until she heard Bea's soft exhale in her ear and felt her readjusting herself a little. That charged breath she just released seemed to have switched something in her. Because the blonde felt her slowly relaxing, as Bea's grip turned softer, drawing her in even more gently, like she was still giving her all the room in the world to pull away, if she wanted.

Allie wanted to. With everything in her, she did.

She couldn't.

She sniffled, this time acknowledging her own tears, before carefully snuggling closer to her, suddenly craving the warmth of her embrace and the comfort of her presence more than the air she breathed. Sensing no resistance, she got a little bolder, draping a shaky arm around Bea's waist. The redhead was so close she couldn't have missed the sound of her breath hitching in her throat instantly or the feel of her heart rate speeding up, responding to her every unpracticed, but eager gesture.

Maybe this was too much for her.

She wanted to move, again. She was on the verge to….when Bea started to switch and settle once more. She listened to the sound of her slower, but still rapid heartbeats against her ear and her calmer breathing that seemed to match her rhythm perfectly now, like they were linked together.

Seahorses.

She smiled a little in the crook of her neck, as the thought slipped into her mind. Bea didn't need to see it, she felt it, as a wave of calm and relief washed over her all the same. Her hand traced lazy patterns from Allie's shoulder down to her arm and her simple, soothing gesture that wouldn't have meant a single thing to anyone else meant the world to Allie.

Because it was the most effort and care anyone's shown her without asking for anything back.

When everyone else demanded twisted payback for the smallest act of kindness shown to her, when all she's ever known was indentured "love", emotional abuse and neglect, being used for someone else's selfish gains under the false, disguised pretense of genuine care and affection.

The blonde let out a soft, involuntary whimper, still fighting back the tears pricking in her eyes, threatening to spill. Unconsciously, her grip on Bea's waist grew stronger, as she leaned into her more and more until there was no space or distance to be crossed between them. Bea was still so worried and so focused on helping her, she didn't stop to contemplate how close they were or even how natural all of this felt…

When she barely let anyone touch her, in any way, shape or form.

When she usually ran for the hills whenever anyone but Franky or her daughter or Maxine tried.

No one touched her like this.

She didn't stop her.

She didn't know how long they sat like that, basking in the serene stillness, no sound filling the air but the rain pouring outside, mixed with their synchronized breathing. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes, maybe hours. She didn't trust her sense of time anymore. Allie's breathing was turning quieter and, for a moment, Bea could have sworn she dozed off.

Even without an explicit confirmation, she settled for not moving too much, just to stay on the side of caution, meanwhile allowing herself a moment to admire how peaceful and innocent Allie looked. Her eyes were still closed, her lips were curved slightly upwards and that worried crease on her brow was nowhere to be found anymore. Her body seemed at rest too, her chest faintly rising up and down with each breath..

If she had any of her stuff, she would have traced one or two lines, capture the sight. But since that wasn't an option, she'd keep it as a memory for now. With every passing minute, Allie's breathing hushed even more, until it came no louder than a whisper – she was sound asleep. Bea closed her eyes too, not to sleep, but maybe to listen.

She knew she should leave. Mentally, she was one foot out the door. But physically? She felt like she couldn't move an inch, no matter how much she wanted to, needed to. There was this odd weakness, akin to numbness spreading throughout her every tissue, starting right where Allie's frame rested..

The flower girl was lightweight, feather-light even. It couldn't be her weight – she lifted heavier barbells at the gym, for crying out loud. It had to be something else.

She didn't know where that feeling came from. The fact that she had nothing to compare it to only added to her confusion. She didn't experience anything like this with anyone else. Then again, she hasn't held too many people aside from her daughter and her idiot best friend, on the rare occasions she needed it.

And when Allie scooched over just a little in her slumber, the gesture causing a short strand of light blonde hair to fall upon her face, Bea had this uncontrollable urge to reach out and tuck it away, almost out of instinct.

She did. It was blocking the view.

When Bea realized how much of a spell that image put her under and just how long she's sat there, studying every detail of the blonde's peaceful face in a mesmerized haze, from those long, dark eyelashes sheltering compassionate sky-blue orbs down to the curve of her plump lips, it was almost enough to make her bolt right there.

But it wasn't that which finally set her, more like forced her in motion, it was the sudden iron-grip she felt on her wrist, it was Allie rattling in her arms out of nowhere, it was that beautiful, heart-stopping view from before morphing into a pained, tortured grimace. It was the feeling of her own heart throbbing violently with each strangled, guttural sound Allie made.

She was seeing Debbie again.

"Don't go..stay with me, please."

It was all the fight in her voice pouring out of her as she said it. She had to have been only half-awake. Bea had no idea who she was even talking to, but it couldn't be her, it had to be someone else, maybe that same someone she was now trying to fight physically, too. Allie's eyes were still shut tight as more incoherent, choked words passed her lips. She was clinging to her harder, almost aggressively now.

"I'm not going anywhere, shh…it's alright." – she whispered soothingly, countering all of Allie's harsh movements with gentler ones of her own, before facing her completely and engulfing her in a warm hug, running soothing circles down her upper back.

It was something Franky always did for her every time she nearly punched the living daylights out of her in her sleep, because she imagined Harry doing the same to her. It was at that point she realized the brunette was family– because she took every blow without backing down just so she'd settle and fall back asleep.

Allie's blows were nowhere near painful. The sight was. Eventually, all the energy drew out of her and the blonde crashed again. Bea reluctantly let go of her frame and laid her back down on the couch slowly, supporting the back of her neck with one hand, before placing the blanket protectively over her.

She seemed at ease again, like nothing had even happened.

Bea sighed heavily, nibbling on her bottom lip in deep thought. After what she's seen, she couldn't just.. leave. The scarier thought was that she technically could…Allie had already given her a pass, not that she owed her anything in the first place, she didn't have a gun pointed to her head, any personal responsibility for the blonde, not even a legit, explicit reason to stay.

Or did she?

No satisfying, crystal-clear answer emerged from her tangled web of thoughts. All she knew was that she needed to stick around for a bit, just to make sure Allie was okay. Because she was a good person and she cared.

About Allie?

Maybe she did. And perhaps she could leave… she just didn't want to.

And, in another sense of the word…she still couldn't. Because something held her in place.

It wasn't an answer, or a resolve, it only gave way for a million other clashing questions to form and taunt her. But against all impulses to the contrary, she stayed a little while longer.

She moved quietly around the blonde's house, still feeling more like an intruder in her personal space if nothing else. Her eyes chased the picture that intrigued her earlier yet again and, this time, she had to answer her own curiosity. She got up from her spot and inched closer to the frame, noting the kind smile the woman standing next to Allie wore.

As she studied the image more intently, her eyes darted to the other person. Her fingers brushed across the frame on their own accord, tracing the contour of a much younger-looking Allie staring back at her. She couldn't have been older than 18. But there was an underlying layer of sadness to her gaze even then. It was the same one Bea caught many unintended glimpses of in the short time she's known her.

Maybe "known" was a much too generous word. For all intents and purposes, she still didn't.

Did she?

Nevertheless, she still suspected it was a side of Allie that she kept locked away from the rest of the world. In this captured moment, however, her sadness was a lot more vivid – there was only a dim, candle-like flicker of light in her eyes, despite that seemingly honest grin gracing her features. And, as always, Bea noticed. She wondered if the rest of the world bothered to. The resounding "no" as the answer yet again was just another reason why life was so goddamn unfair.

She was pretty.

Underneath it all and above everything else.

The thought slipped into her mind out of nowhere. There was also a vibrant innocence to picture Allie, a child-like quality. As Bea pondered further, she suspected that was yet another one of her things. She cast another fugitive look at the woman now resting peacefully on the couch like the weight of the world was slowly falling off her shoulders.

She saw no difference.

And maybe it was precisely that, this growing, inexplicable but undeniable need to help Allie shed some of that weight which made her unable to pull away from this room, from her presence. She didn't know where that was coming from or how long she stood there yet again but, she suspected, by the night dawning outside and the rain scaling down, settling into a light shower that it was at least an hour.

All throughout, Allie rattled a few more times, going through those same episodes and she calmed her down every time, the best she could, either by holding her close or whispering sweet nothings in her ear or anything she could remember Franky or Debbie doing for her that could have helped the restless blonde, too.

When the window between the episodes grew longer and longer, she took it as a cue that Allie would be alright for the rest of the night – as okay as she could be, given the circumstances - that whatever she was doing seemed to help her, if only temporarily. She was just about to turn on her heel when she caught sight of a notepad lying on the blonde's table.

She absentmindedly ripped a sheet from it and scribbled down the words:

Call me when it gets bad. No questions asked.

She had no idea why she offered but it didn't matter now. It was the last thing that mattered.

She needed to leave.

This time, she had to go.

She sent another charged look towards the blonde's still, tranquil frame, finally allowing herself to exhale heavily like she's been holding her breath for days. She was physically by the doorway and mentally one foot out the door again when something stronger than her own willpower washed over her, making her turn around on impulse, almost abruptly, something she couldn't fight.

She was a fighter. Sure, she emerged battled, bruised and scarred but she won plenty of fights in the past. This, on the other hand, was a much different, unfamiliar type of war, one that had started brewing a while ago, a lot longer than she even knew. And if there was anything Bea Smith was known for, it was her stubbornness, her resilience. She was about to put one hell of a fight.

Just not right now.

This was one small battle in a grand war that she was about to lose, one she had no idea she was even fighting. If she did, she might have come prepared, all guns blazing.

And maybe it was the pitch-black darkness of this room, holding her in place because it matched the darkness in her…

Maybe it was the blonde's angelic visage, closed eyes and still much too small and fragile frame, barely filling the space she was contemplating so wistfully now, casting that single light upon it, luring her in, like a moth to a flame..

Maybe it was all the ways she still reminded her of her own daughter, all the ways she brought out that instinct to care and protect in her…

Maybe it was her own body reacting instinctively before her rational mind could slam the brakes...

In a flash, she was back by Allie's side like she never left.

She swallowed that lingering breath stuck in her throat, then gently brushed her fingers across Allie's pale cheek in quiet wonder. She cast a fugitive, enthralled look to the blonde's slightly parted lips, breathing out in sheer relief the same time she did, then stared back up. With still trembling fingers, she reached out to fix her hair again, then placed a chaste, lingering kiss on Allie's forehead.

Second time around, she didn't look back.

Something told her she shouldn't.

Allie didn't call.

No matter how much she needed to, no matter how many times she almost dialed the number. Her hand always froze mid-motion right before pressing the call button. Because, above all, she felt ashamed and vulnerable. And unworthy of anything more from her. She did, however, express her gratitude in her own language.

Because the very next day, Bea woke up with a massive bouquet of red roses delivered to her doorstep, completed by an elegant, handwritten note. If the sight of the flowers wasn't enough to send another electric shock to her previously numb heart, the words did:

Still not a serial killer..or a stalker, I promise. Franky gave me your address.

P.S. Thank you,

A.