I'm baaaack! Hopefully. I don't know, you guys will have to tell me, 'cause this certainly didn't come out the way I wanted. But after a month of writing it over and over, I think it's time to post. Again, thank you from the depths of my ~soul for reading.

--x--

Colorblind

Chapter Seven;

They've only just begun their adventure and Mitchie's excited to learn more about the fascinating girl leading her by the hand, but she already feels dizzy with claustrophobia, a fear she's never had. The city outside is a symphony of blaring noises and she feels like she's trapped in traffic; car horns scream at her that aren't there and people that don't exist holler too loudly for how close they sound. Walls spin and clouds are foggy below her feet rather than in the sky as the world churns around her. It's not at all like the pleasant burst of butterflies she's come to be familiar with when Alex smiles at her the way she does. Instead it's suffocating and it doesn't make her blush, it makes her hesitate.

"Alex…I don't…It's dark," Mitchie stammers uneasily, stalling at the third step. Her brows knit and the back of her hand rests woozily over her crinkled forehead.

"I know, it gets better once we're down there, the lights got taken out of this place a long time ago," the sunlight from outside crawls along the tattered brick walls and it's just enough for Alex to see the panic in Mitchie's beautiful dark eyes. Similar to tectonic plates, cracked and unstable and Alex can sense the impending earthquake.

"I can't-"

"Mitchie?"

"I can't see, it's so dark…" Mitchie shoulders the wall, leaning away from Alex and wraps her arms around herself. It's the first time she's let go of Alex since they left home and the fearful way she does it builds up an unsteady wall between them that chills Alex's skin from the cold slap of being rejected. She blames Mitchie for none of it and she patiently keeps her distance. "He's doing it again, he always does this," like the blood that was fleeing her veins last night, her words are bleeding onto Alex's hands.

Mitchie is slipping away from her, sand through open palms and Alex won't let the last grain fall.

"Mitchie, he's not here, I wouldn't let him-"

She doesn't understand where she went wrong and the spaces between her fingers feel too empty.

"He never wants me to see and - and I wish I couldn't," Mitchie's fingers curl into the fabric of her sweatshirt. Holding herself together. "If I was blind, I would never have to see his face and I wouldn't dream about him. I try so hard to forget, but I can't. I can't. I can't do anything."

She's watching Mitchie disintegrate right in front of her and it's too painful for her to keep her hand from touching Mitchie's shoulder.

"Yes, you can," Alex coaxes, rubbing Mitchie's upper arm. She flinches and it produces a backlash that stings no less than the crack of an angry leather whip. "Mitchie…"

"He does it in the dark because they won't see. He knows I won't tell," her breath rattles. "I want to tell."

Overly vivid images flood Alex's mind, an accidental spill of color that blend and swirl to paint moving pictures. She can't fight the horrifying thought of Mitchie trapped in her own room, his hands on her. Touching her. Deaf to her cries and blind to her tears. She tells herself she can blink the thoughts away, but it only makes her see it more clearly and the colors overflow inside of her mind so much that she could swear ink and paint were leaking from her ears and eyes.

The distorted corners of her vision are convincing and she almost believes her own ridiculous theory until she carelessly swabs her knuckles under her eyes to erase the tears she didn't realize she was crying.

"Tell me…" Alex whispers, taking two steps below Mitchie to appear less threatening. Ignoring the throbbing ache because it feels as though they're taking too many steps in the same direction they came from.

"I can't!"

"Why?"

"He'll find me. It won't be a secret anymore if someone knows and he'll hate me," Mitchie cups a hand over her mouth like she's afraid she'll say too much if she doesn't trap the words in her throat. If she doesn't swallow the truth and smile her empty smiles that no one has seen through.

Alex sees through them. She sees them as if Mitchie's lips are transparent glass. And she's disgusted that such poorly disguised happiness has gone unnoticed.

Steel fists hang heavily on either side of her hips and they quiver with her primal need to strike something that will crumble under her hand. The pressure has been building inside of them since last night and she yearns to relieve it so she can empty the anger from cycling inside of her. Picturing his face, she figures her imagination is exaggerating and stereotyping, however, the visual she sees in the confines of her own head is a man she'd have no problem painting red. She's never been violent but the bruises on Mitchie's face both mock her and beg for an escape. Alex wants to give her one so badly it hurts.

"Who is he? Who did this to you, Mitchie? I can't take it, this is just so messed up, you have to tell me who hurt you-"

"I did."

Alex narrows her eyes in disbelief, her forehead wrinkling.

"What?"

"I did it, it's my fault."

"Is that what he tells you?"

"It's true, he wouldn't have to hurt me if I was different, if I was someone else-"

"Mitchie, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! This is not your fault! He's a sick motherf-" Alex's teeth catch her bottom lip to filter out the curse word and her tense shoulders collapse as she casts her eyes to stare at the brick wall. The plastered lines between each brick look a little bit like a maze and she only feels more lost. "Whatever he's told you, he's wrong."

"I just want to be someone else," Mitchie whispers and Alex aches.

"You can. You won't be the girl he-" Alex pauses because the word hurt does nothing to verbalize this, this thing that seems too real for words. Words are for fairytales and stories that will never happen and Alex has always had a preference for pictures. "You won't be the girl you were when you were with him. You'll be so much stronger. You can do this," Alex entwines their hands between them with a gentle certainty that seals her words into a promise. "We can do this."

Those eyes tell Mitchie everything she's ever dreamed of hearing and she feels so naked beneath their stare, as though they've watched her fall and stuck around to be sure she got back up. They look at her like they're a part of every story Mitchie's scars have ever told.

Unlike every other time she's forfeited, this feels like the right choice and she slumps forward as Alex catches her from under her arms, pulling their bodies together and Mitchie grips the front of Alex's sweatshirt in her bruised fists. Alex rests her chin atop her head and leans her back against the weathered wall behind them, sighing with relief, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

"I'm scared," Mitchie rasps. The material her face is pressed into swallows her voice but she's still heard.

Alex's furiously beating heart breaks.

"I know," she whispers, cradling the back of Mitchie's head against her chest. Their fear is impossible to compare, but Alex has never been so terrified. She traps her own confession of fear behind her lips for Mitchie's sake. She will be strong.

Mitchie doesn't cry this time and Alex feels stupid when she has to swipe the wrist of her sleeve across her cheek because she's not the one with reasons to cry, but she can't help it. It hurts. With a terribly concealed sniffle and a sigh into Mitchie's hair, she tries to think of how to verbalize her guilt while Mitchie grips onto her as if someone's trying to drag her off by the ankles.

"This was stupid, I shouldn't have brought you down here. We can go home and watch a movie or something." The protective circle of her arms is pointless, she thinks. This is her fault, but she holds Mitchie because she doesn't know how to protect her from herself and because she needs it, too. The entire conversation has been a string of fragmented, interrupted sentences that did nothing more than mentally return Mitchie back to a place Alex will never let her see again.

"It wasn't stupid. I don't - he just -" she trips over her thoughts again and Alex hushes her with a gentle finger to Mitchie's lips.

"Let's not talk about him."

Mitchie nods.

"Do you want to keep going? You don't have to, I'll take you back home, it's no big deal."

And then Mitchie's warm hand is on her cheek and all composure is lost on Alex for a moment as her lips part in surprise. It's not by much, but there's a distinct difference in height between them that Mitchie adjusts to with a tilt of her head. Her thumb passes over Alex's skin and Alex's eyes flutter as she surrenders to Mitchie's careful touches until she regains her self-control. Everything about her is so delicate, so easy to say yes to, whether it's with words or not.

She wonders if it's dangerous that she wouldn't be able to deny Mitchie much of anything.

Alex's body language is a giveaway to her nervousness and Mitchie calms her with a smile that reaches her eyes. They shine as Mitchie's hand drifts from her cheek down to her scarf, tugging on it while she takes a step back and Alex can feel the atmosphere transitioning around them.

"Take me there," she says excitedly, threading a hand through Alex's. "We came this far, come on," she pulls Alex down the remainder of the stairs, stopping abruptly at the base of them as Alex bumps into her back with an 'oof'.

"What's wrong, Great Expeditionist? Lose your map?" Alex maneuvers around her, a shimmer in her eyes that prompts another real smile from Mitchie. There's no transparency and Alex feels herself smiling in return.

"Nah," Mitchie shakes her head, squeezing Alex's hand. "She's right here."

"Make sure you keep track of her down here," Alex smirks, walking backwards and watching the light fade from the planes of Mitchie's face, pulling her along by their abridged hands. Leading her away from the world that's punished her without reason.

"I'd be pretty lost without her."

The corners of Alex's mouth slip downwards and her smirk disappears, her footsteps gradually slowing.

"Well, I think that she's kind of lost, too," she absently toys with Mitchie's fingers in her hand. "But she's not so directionless with you around and she's trying."

The scuffing of their shoes against the pavement is suddenly louder than it was before and Alex studies Mitchie's face, how pale her skin is and how pretty it makes her. She didn't ever really get what the appeal was in being tan, she thinks Mitchie looks perfect. The cloud of a bruise under her eye is stark against her paleness and even the outer radius of it is a deep shade of purple that wouldn't be noticeable on most people. Even though hands she wants to break put it there, it has her respect. She'll wait for it to decide that Mitchie's been hurt enough for it to heal. She'll wait for the maps of Mitchie's scars to fade.

A few more steps and the light flooding from outside can't reach them anymore, engulfing them in complete darkness and leaving them to rely on touch and Alex's memory. All she can think of is the way Mitchie had been staring back at her like Alex's thoughts were being said aloud, repeating how beautiful she was.

Alex can hear the seconds pass like a heartbeat underwater. The ripple effect leaves a wave of goosebumps on her skin.

"Tell me you feel that," Mitchie whispers and Alex continues walking backwards, slower now, listening for anything Mitchie might hear that she doesn't.

"Feel what?"

Mitchie slowly draws their knotted hands to her chest, pressing Alex's open palm just below the center of her collarbone with her two hands and her feet root themselves to the ground. The pounding rhythm beneath Alex's fingertips harmonizes her own heartbeat and she finds herself fascinated by the constant pulse contracting under her touch. Her eyes drag slowly upwards to search for Mitchie's, but she's only met with ebony and her heart pumps a little faster.

"That," Mitchie breathes.

"Oh," oh. Alex nods uselessly and upon remembering Mitchie can't see her, says "Yeah, I feel that."

She's less than prepared when Mitchie's ear greets her own chest. They're barely touching and she's so winded she could pass out.

"Your heart is pounding," Alex can hear the smile.

She wiggles her fingers where they're still captive under Mitchie's hands, monitoring her reflective heartbeat.

--x--

Alex thinks it's cute, the way Mitchie drags her hands over the paint suffocated walls in awe, admiring, like trying to experience the art secondhand. When Mitchie asks if Alex painted this or that, she likes that she can pompously nod, arms folded over her chest and be proud that someone with an opinion that actually matters to her is impressed with her work. She remains a part of the background, watching, and thinking to herself that if she could ever get her hands on the elements used to create a girl so perfect, she could be a legend. Art is something she's always known to have multiple interpretations and Mitchie isn't an exception. Alex could examine her for hours; Mitchie is nothing like the paintings on her bedroom walls that she grows tired of in a matter of months.

Thoughts unexpectedly elude the barrier of her lips and the exasperated "Jesus," is whispered before she can think to take it back. Mitchie turns around with a quizzical expression written on her face that makes Alex's heart panic.

"What'd you say, Alex?"

The widening of her eyes adds to her obviousness, but she still murmurs a swift "Nothing." Brushing hair away from her face that isn't really in the way only makes her act less believable.

"Don't you lie to me," Mitchie playfully narrows her eyes and Alex knows she's joking, but she feels guilty anyway. Mitchie doesn't need to be lied to, no matter how small and harmless it is.

"I was just looking at you," she blurts. Her eyes widen a second time as she registers what she's said and she tries again. "I mean, you're nice to look at." A pause. She thwacks her own forehead. "Like, you're really pretty," she finishes, painfully humiliated, but she smiles awkwardly anyway.

"Hey, I said not to lie to me," a weak laugh escapes Mitchie and her smile goes from genuine to nervous, then slips completely from her face.

"You're the last person I'd lie to," her reply is natural and it's already out of her mouth before her mind even finishes processing the thought.

"Alex…"

"I'm serious, you're beautiful, Mitchie."

"I'm not…"

"Please tell me you're joking."

A hand rises to cover her bruised eye. "No, these stupid bruises…"

Alex takes a few steps forward, unveiling Mitchie's eye by grasping her wrist and bringing her hand back down. "Come on, you're too pretty to hide your face like that."

"People stare."

"They don't understand."

Mitchie shakes her head, wrist still caught in Alex's hand between them.

"But you do."

Alex feels herself knocked back by those few words because they've come to an understanding of one another so quickly and so thoroughly. She hadn't been sure that it was mutual until now and she splays Mitchie's hand over her heart and nods.

"Yeah."

I understand.

Mitchie's back grazes the mural behind her and the oxygen between them is thin as they breathe each other's air. The jackhammer beneath Alex's ribcage echoes down to the tips of her toes; her pulse throbs all over her body.

"Tell me you feel that," she whispers, so close that Mitchie can feel her breath on her lips.

Mitchie can smell the vanilla on Alex's neck as Alex leans into her, resting a hand just above her head to the left on the wall. She releases Mitchie's wrist, curving the palm of her now free hand around the jut of her hip. Her eyes haven't left Mitchie's, she's waiting for any sign to stop before she won't be able to.

Mitchie's breaths are shallow and frequent and the dim lights behind Alex's head are blending into a haze that makes her dizzy. The world seems to tilt on its axis beneath her feet and she clutches onto Alex's bicep to keep her grounded. Or maybe just to touch her, she can't be sure.

The whole scenario is startlingly similar to her nightmare and her bruises object as she melds more closely to the wall behind her. She breaks eye contact and it's like snapping a power line, an orange shower of sparks and crackling energy. Alex cranes her neck and hangs her head, mouth brushing Mitchie's ear.

"It's okay," her words are hot and they cascade along the shell of Mitchie's ear. "You can say no."

Mitchie's muscles stiffen and knots of heated wire tie themselves tighter below her stomach.

"I'm not him. You tell me to stop and I'll stop," she winds a ringlet of Mitchie's hair around her slim finger before tucking it behind her ear. "Just don't be scared of me, Mitchie. There's no one who is more on your side than I am."

Mitchie can feel her conscious mind slipping as her eyelids tire and the storm inside of her ribcage thunders with every beat of her heart. The arm dangling at her side reaches up to grab onto Alex's opposite forearm and she lies heavily against the concrete wall.

"I don't get it, but you do something to me," Alex doesn't seem to mind that Mitchie isn't answering her. Her eyebrows are drawn together in a confused frown as she tries to decipher what she's thinking enough to translate it all into words. "I can barely breathe with you this close to me and I'm not Shakespeare but I think that means something. I know you. There's just no way a stranger can do this to me."

Mitchie's knees are beginning to tremble and she can't fathom any other possible way to support herself, but finds that she doesn't have to. Alex slides her hand between Mitchie's lower back and the wall, a place she knows is free of injury, and wraps the length of her arm around her waist as two fingers hook into Mitchie's belt loops.

"You're shaking," she exhales.

Mitchie reluctantly lets go of Alex's upper arm to interweave her hand in Alex's hair just above the nape of her neck out of silent explanation concerning her wavering legs. She thinks Alex is starting to get it with how her face dawns a slow realization, eyes slightly unfocused. But she makes no further advances, she only watches Mitchie struggle to breathe, her own lungs fairing off no better.

Alex does get it. And as much as she longs to give in to what she and Mitchie both want, she won't do it in an abandoned train station with her own graffiti breathing life into the walls behind Mitchie. She won't kiss Mitchie with dying lights above their heads.

Alex loves it here, it's her own world where she can paint what she wants to and she can lose herself to her own imagination. She can be dangerous and it won't matter. But she won't let herself go with frail perfection in her arms. She will not risk hurting Mitchie.

She retrieves her arm from Mitchie's lower back and smiles weakly at the confused expression on her face.

"I still have a lot more to show you," Alex says and Mitchie finds her hand again without a word.

--x--

Alex closes her bedroom door with her leg, her oversized pajama pants slung low on her hips as she uses the towel hanging around her shoulders to dry her hair. The sun is beginning to split over the horizon, shards of light intruding through her window and melting diamonds onto her floor and walls. She revels in the breaking dawn for a moment, supporting her back on her door and allowing her toes to sink into her plush, albeit immature carpet. Mitchie's lower body is twisted in her sheets and Alex relaxes more against her door as she watches her sleep.

Before she'd left the tangle of blankets and limbs for her morning shower, she had almost disregarded her alarm when Mitchie whimpered at the loss of contact, hands blindly searching for Alex.

"Sleep," Alex had murmured, tiredly trailing the tips of her fingers down Mitchie's cheek and the other girl blanketed Alex's hand with her own, still asleep.

School is the very last thing on her mind but keeping Mitchie home with her all week would be suspicious to her parents and Mitchie had been against them skipping. She wonders why she's never seen Mitchie in the halls at school before. The fact that she hasn't makes her feel like all of the others.

Mitchie's just so special and maybe that's why Alex notices. Maybe the rest of the world doesn't know what to do with something so beyond them.

Alex turns off the second alarm before it goes off and instead wakes Mitchie by rubbing her back and whispering her name. The girl shifts with a breathy groan that causes Alex to stand a bit straighter for a moment and Mitchie burrows her face further into sheets that smell like the clothes she wears. They smell of Alex.

"Time to get up, Mitch," she scratches her nails nimbly over the fabric of Mitchie's t-shirt below her shoulder blades.

Mitchie lifts her head, looking exhausted but with a small smile.

"Mitch?"

"Mhm," Alex hums, nuzzling her nose against the back of Mitchie's neck as a substitution for the kiss she almost pressed there. "You don't like it? I could call you lots of other things," she says mischievously and Mitchie can feel Alex's teeth graze her neck as she smiles into her skin.

"No, Mitch works."

"'Kay good, 'cause I would've called you that anyways."

--x--

Alex detests Mondays as much as the next person, perhaps more and she finds a new reason to hate them when she has to walk Mitchie to her first period class. A class that they do not have together. A class that she has to walk away from without taking Mitchie.

She's been tired of emptying her mind of public education garbage for months and her notes show off her honed ability to doodle within the margins. Entire cities, oceans, cats with seven eyes.

Today she won't be able to pay attention if she tries.

She's about to ask Mitchie what she has second period to see if they'll have time to meet up in the hall between classes but a voice that makes her cringe worse than nails on a chalkboard stops her before she begins.

"No way!"

Alex whips around.

"Oh, this is precious. Alex Russo all buddy-buddy with Torres. You know, Alex, we can't really be honorary rivals if you're going to stoop that low."

Alex doesn't have the patience for Gigi and she doesn't have the self-control to idly listen to anyone hurt Mitchie.

"I'd suggest you shut your whore mouth, Gigi."

"I mean," Gigi drones on, her unappealing valley girl voice tempting Alex to do something violent that she thinks she probably wouldn't regret. "I know you don't have a lot of friends, but you should at least stick to something human. Besides, where's little Harper?"

Alex's fists itch to greet Gigi's jaw. Harper's fallen victim to Gigi just as many times as Alex has, but she takes it harder than Alex does. And Alex doesn't let Gigi push around her best friend any more than she'd let her do it to Mitchie. Harper's name only fuels Alex's anger.

"Mitch, hold my books for a sec," she hands her single notebook and textbook to Mitchie, who takes them willingly but warily.

"Oh, look, you've even got her on a leash," Gigi giggles and her clones echo the mindless, bubbly laughter like little bells.

"Yeah, 'cause those," she gestures to the girls flanking Gigi, "totally don't look like poodles that Barbie puked on. Are they your porta-poodles so you can stay skinny for Ken?"

"Better than your mutt."

"If you don't shut your goddamn mouth -"

"Bow. Wow."

Gigi's slow spreading smirk is barely born before Alex prematurely murders it with a firm right hook to Gigi's face. The gasps that fill the air come mostly from Gigi's friends and now they sound less like bells and more like balloons being filled with helium. They do nothing to delay a second punch which forcefully gets Gigi past the initial shock that she'd just been punched in the face and her manicured nails dig into Alex's shoulders, reeling her backwards into a set of lockers.

Alex struggles against the restraint and angles her leg to knee Gigi in the stomach, but she feels her shoulders being released and Gigi's hands find her hair instead, yanking and forcefully heaving Alex's head forward to crack the back of her skull against the lockers.

"I can't believe you hit me!" Gigi's hands snarl further in her hair and Alex looks up, sees the blood drizzling miserably from Gigi's nose. She thinks of Mitchie and then her stomach lurches and she feels sick.

"I told you to shut up," Alex mutters hoarsely. "I told you to shut your fucking mouth, you don't talk about Mitchie like that," her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. Sweat has broken out on her forehead.

"What are you, a psycho?" Gigi relieves her tight hold of Alex's hair, preparing to step back but Alex catches her collar. Tugs her closer.

"I don't like you, Gigi. I really don't like you," Alex says lowly. "But I don't hate you. You're pushing it, though, and I swear if you don't leave her alone, I'm not just going to sit back and listen to it. Say what you want about me, but you leave her be."

Gigi says nothing and Alex raises her eyebrows, challenging.

"Okay, fine, whatever," Alex unhooks her fingers from Gigi's collar and the girl smoothes the wrinkles from the front of her shirt.

Alex hadn't thought ahead enough to consider being caught by teachers and her lack of planning comes back to bite her in the form of Mr. Laritate. He's marching toward her, waving his arms in the air and she amuses herself for a moment by waiting for a volcano to blow out of the top of his head as she observes his crimson face. Lava doesn't spurt from his receding hairline, but her name explodes from his mouth, molten and angry.

"Alex Russo!"

She flashes him a smile, bending her knee to rest the sole of her shoe upon the locker she leans against, arms crossed.

"Mr. Laritate," she greets him with an informal nod.

"Do not Mr. Laritate me," he bellows and she's only more tickled by the fact that he's freaking out over her hitting Gigi. He should have been expecting it sometime soon.

"What would you prefer I call you, sir? Enlighten me."

"Russo, my office, now," he jams his finger to the right, directing her down the hallway as he shoos away the congregation of students that have gathered, including Gigi's followers.

She scoffs, pushing herself off of the lockers and saunters past Gigi, "Like, oh my God, your bloody nose totally matches your lipstick."

"Office!" Mr. Laritate thunders again and Alex salutes him before he worriedly escorts Gigi down the hall to the nurse's office.

Alex watches them leave then turns around to find Mitchie timidly clutching her books to her chest, looking a little traumatized. Her sarcastic smirk dissipates and the hard eyes she'd been drilling into the depths of Gigi's empty soul soften to warm liquid brown again and she wants to apologize.

"Mitchie, I…" she doesn't have any explanation and a sigh replaces any words that might have justified her behavior.

"Are you alright? That looked like it hurt," Mitchie winces.

"What, me? I'm fine," Alex casually rubs the back of her neck, flinching as she passes over her inflamed scalp from being slammed into the lockers. "Completely fine," she smiles, visibly affected by Mitchie's concern.

Mitchie watches her for a moment, not very convinced.

"That was kind of awesome," she bites her lip, corners of her mouth curving up into a shy smile.

Alex reflects a similar smile back at her, whispering excitedly, "It so was."

"Gigi sucks."

"Gigi's a freakin' Hoover," Alex says. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"You stood up for me," Mitchie hides her returning smile behind the books she's carrying and Alex doesn't think she could get any more adorable.

"I wasn't lying when I said I might lose it if someone hurt you again. Kind of a bonus that it was Gigi."

She's not alone, she realizes. She's got Alex, who will break noses for her and paint worlds for her. The halls aren't as empty as they once were.

"Definitely a bonus," she murmurs in retrospect. "But now you're in trouble," she grimaces, handing Alex's books back to her.

"Don't tell me you're worried about that? Seriously, it was worth it," Alex tucks her books under her arm and her gaze follows Mitchie's hand longer than she intended, she's still not used to how neglected they are. She absently wonders how they're so soft. "Well, I can hear Laritate's office door snarling at me from here, I'll see you after class if I make it out of there alive."