*For Skyb13 – because they asked

Oh God…what in the hell am I doing? Ashley glanced down at the sleeping form curled up in her arms, trying without fail, to push her from her heart, to get that smile removed from her heart, trying to still the rapid beating whenever she thought of those magnetic blue eyes locked on hers. I'm not ready for this…and she hadn't been. Though parts of her ached to allow Spencer to love her, practically begged her to remove every wall she had painstakingly erected, something just wouldn't let her…some part of her that still feared the crushing pain that came with trusting others, and Ashley was slow to forgive and even more slow to forget. She just wasn't sure she would have it in her to hate Spencer if it came to that. If something happened between them, she wondered if she could ever bring herself to turn on her, to shut and bar her from her being, and closed her eyes at the terrifying truth that she wouldn't be able to do such a thing. It had felt so good…so right, when Spencer's lips had met hers, soft and hesitant at first, then with a more crushing force, their breath becoming ragged, limbs becoming entangled in the other, but when she'd felt Spencer's hand on the hem of her shirt, something in her froze, and she had stopped. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, tears beginning to sting the corners of her eyes, and had turned her head in shame. She had been so awash in self-pity she almost didn't feel the soft hand raise up and cup her cheek, turning her back, where she felt she would drown in the swirling blue of Spencer's gaze, drawing in a sharp breath when she saw a quiet understanding reflected back at her, instead on the disgusted condemnation she had expected.

"It's alright," she had whispered, and the words had flowed over Ashley like warm honey, soothing the ragged wounds that were still not ready to be healed, but for the moment, were silenced. The dark-haired girl had forced herself to ignore the hammering in her chest, and forced a small smile on her face in response, not trusting herself to speak, and had simply nodded.

This is not okay, so not okay…she had been trying unsuccessfully to squelch the panic, that had been clawing its way to the surface since they had lain down to sleep, but found she couldn't. I'm not made for this...I'm just not. Ashley looked down once more at the sleeping woman in her arms, feeling her heart seize for a moment, before slowly getting up from the bed, trying to ignore the cold sting of the air, and slipped into her clothes, jamming her feet into her Chucks. I…I just need some air…one more glance to the bed, where Spencer clutched the empty bedspread where she had just been, and she turned and headed from the room, out the house, and with the squealing of tires, down the winding driveway.

***

"Ashley," Spencer jerked awake, her eyes sleepily scanning the room, noting the faint rays of sunlight that had begun to filter in through the drawn shades. What time is it…her feet were on the floor and she found herself padding towards the bedroom door almost without realizing it, "Ashley?" She called out again, waiting to hear the slightly husky voice answer, and felt her brow crease in concern when no response came. Where…she fell heavily onto the couch, drawing her legs up, and wrapping her arms around her knees…she knew she should be worried, but just couldn't stop the small smile that stretched its way across her face as her thoughts turned to the previous evening. She wasn't exactly sure what to make of everything, but when they had kissed, when she had felt the soft pressure of the older girl's lips on hers she suddenly knew why she had been unable to get those soul searing brown eyes out of her mind. It was as if she had spent the better part of the school year holding her breath, for someone to finally tell her it was okay to breathe, and she had done it. Sucking in a breath so deep all she smelled was the soft cinnamon and lavender of Ashley's shampoo, and part of her had melted into something that felt altogether too natural. Mom's gonna pitch a bitch tent…but even that sobering thought couldn't stop the smile that was now threatening to break out into a full fledged grin, and she felt a soft laugh bubble up from within her. God, what is going on with me, she pondered the question briefly before deciding she didn't care, and just threw herself back on the couch, reveling in the quiet bliss of the moment. She wasn't quit sure where her feelings would lead her, if they led her anywhere, but she had always been one to go with the flow, to just let the origami pieces of her life unfold as they saw fit…and if the path eventually led her to Ashley, well, and now she did grin, that would be just fine. There were worse places she could be.

"You're still here?" The voice sounded in the living room, clear, cold and distant, lacking any of the warmth it had held the previous evening.

Spencer looked up, the smile on her face faltering slightly and she took in the slightly disheveled appearance of her friend, her eyes instantly drawn to the hand that had been bandaged but once again dripped blood freely, "Ashley," she walked over, taking the damaged hand in her own, sucking in a sharp breath as she noticed the ragged knuckles, swollen from abuse and bleeding much more than the glass scarred palm she had wrapped up earlier, "what happened?" She looked up, and took an involuntary step back at the icy coldness that had fallen over the brunette's face, as though she had erected an impenetrable wall between the two of them, and felt the hand snatched back from her grasp.

"Why are you still here?" Ashley's face hardened, her jaw clenched as she waited on an answer, swaying slightly on her feet before regaining her balance. She brought a bottle filled with a murky brown liquid to her lips, taking a long swallow before leveling her angry gaze back on Spencer, the burning sensation it released once it hit her stomach calming her in a way she knew nothing else could.

"You're drunk," it wasn't a question, just a statement of unfortunate truth.

"And your point would be?" Ashley raised the bottle again and had to fight to keep from exploding in an unstoppable rage as it was knocked from her hand, and sent spiraling towards the floor where it shattered into glittering, mockingly useless, pieces, and lost the battle. A bellow of outrage erupting from her throat as she twisted her hands into the front of Spencer's shirt, snatching the blonder closer, her face twisted with anger, "Do you have any idea what you just did?" She snarled, the words rushing from her with a slightly animalistic fury.

Spencer could almost feel her heart thrumming in her throat, confused by the sudden change, and fought down a steadily rising fear that almost took her legs from beneath her, and with a shuddering breath matched Ashley's level gaze, "Yes," she responded evenly, "keeping you from acting like some deranged fool."

Mocha eyes narrowed, and she looked as if she were about to speak again, but shoved Spencer roughly away from her, stalking towards the kitchen, where she grabbed her keys from the counter. She spun back around viciously as she felt a small hand cover her own.

"You're in no condition to drive right now, Ashley?" Misty blue eyes met hers silently, pleading with her to stay, terrified of what would happen if the other girl were to get behind the wheel of a car, "If you don't care about what happens to you…at least think of the people you could accidentally hurt…"

"Back. Off." The brown eyes flashed, sharp and dangerous, no hint of the woman who usually hid behind them visible in the depths, the part of her that hurt, that cried out for comfort was locked away, conveniently ignored by the drunken anger that had claimed her.

"Please?" She pulled gently, trying to pry the keys from the stone grasp, and was shocked to find herself suddenly on the floor, holding her cheek as it began to slowly throb from where Ashley's fist had connected with her jaw, tears beginning to pool in her eyes, and make their way down her face, burning almost like fire as they did.

"I told you to back. Off." Ashley stood over her, chest heaving, the air tearing itself from her lungs with savage gasps. She stared down at the person cowering at her feet, feeling her muscles tensing as she looked them over, her eyes finally coming to rest on the other's face, and in that instant as she took in the cold fear that formed unchecked in their expression, felt the anger snap, brittle and dry. "Oh…God…" she brought her hands up, pained disbelief plainly evident as she watched them shake, wanting nothing more than to take the blow back. Knowing that no apology could make up for what she had just done. There weren't enough 'I'm sorry's' in the world…there was no way she could beg for forgiveness for this…and in that single moment, as she stood watching Spencer look up with her with an unreadable expression etched into her face, she felt more helpless than she ever had. The anger had dissipated; leaving her drained of any energy and she wanted nothing more than to sink into some hole in the floor. To fall into the dark depression that often claimed her far too easily, but couldn't bring herself to stay, couldn't face the shame of what she had just done, and instead turned almost mechanically towards the front door and disappeared into the coming sunrise.

***

"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender lifted his shoulders in question.

"I'll know when I've had enough," the words came out tired, as though the speaker didn't have the will to put any fight behind them, and simply pushed the now empty shot glass forward, waiting on it to be filled, not even looking up as he did so, pulling it back as soon as he was done. She stared down at her hands, one now crusted over with dried blood, the wounds cracking open with savage efficiency anytime she flexed her fingers, bringing with them a sharp pain that had, for the moment, subsided into a dull ache. Pathetic…she didn't know how long she had been sitting in the darkened bar, but it was long enough to put her in a drunken tailspin, and she fought to keep from loosing everything she had thrown back when she moved her head too quickly. The room spun, pulling her with it in its dance of vertigo as she placed her head in her hands, and for the first time since she could remember, felt the urge to drink seep from her like air from a punctured balloon. A hazy film lay over the bar, the cigarette smoke from so many customers giving the room an almost eerie glow, the jukebox music filtering in through her drunken consciousness and she felt herself being pulled annoyingly into the lyrics:

*I am at ease
In the arms of a woman
Although now, most of my days are spent alone
Thousand miles from the place I was born
But when she wakes me, she takes me back home
Now most days, I spend, like a child
Who's afraid, of ghosts in the night
I know there ain't nothing out there
I'm still afraid to turn on the light…

"Hey," a voice came from the darkness to her right, rough with years of smoking, "change the station. How the hell am I supposed to get a good poker game going with this nonsense on the radio?"

"Don't," Ashley looked up as the bartender moved to do as the man asked, "I'm listening to this." He shook his head, making to ignore her and felt his wrist being held in an iron-clad grip, "What part of that didn't you understand?" Her eyes narrowed and she felt the slow current of adrenaline begin to course its way through her body, the liquid courage she felt pushing her to throw caution to the wind as she slammed his hand down on the wooden bar top. "Leave it."

"You're messing with dangerous fire, little girl," she felt the warm breath blow across her ear, leaving the smell of stale beer in its wake as she turned to meet the hooded eyes of a man nearly twice her size and triple her weight, shaggy hair hung past his shoulders as he looked her over, a lecherous grin beginning to form as he took her in, placing a rough hand on her shoulder, "Why don't you just play nice?" And left no guessing as to what his idea of playing would include and she just reacted.

"Play. Nice." The words were spoken through teeth gritted in anger and disgust, and she reached up, slamming the flat edge of her palm into his throat, causing him to stagger back, eyes bugged out in surprise, gasping for air around his pained throat. "Fuck. You." He lunged, knocking Ashley to the floor in a clatter of bar stools and shattered beer mugs, she pushed herself up clumsily, her hair falling over her face, casting it in shadows, her eyes glinting in the dim light, a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth, "Let's play then." She said huskily, raising one hand and beckoning him forward, her other hand playing loosely with the long bladed knife she carried wherever she went.

"Bitch." He spat the word, lumbering purposefully towards her, his giant meaty hands clenching the closer her got. His eyes went round as he felt a slashing sting on his forearm and saw the ruby droplets as his blood begin making a rapid escape from his body before seeing the slightly feral grin on the small woman before him who was now coming at him with a blade he had somehow missed, swinging it with deadly precision. Not good…he deflected a jab meant for his stomach, a burning pain coming over his hands as he felt the sharp edge slice through his skin. Little girl has claws…"Al" he barked the name, and was rewarded when the bouncer appeared, wrapping an arm around the attacking woman's waist, and halting her forward progress, and he went to work…

***

Ashley felt herself momentarily airborne before she crashed onto the pavement, the rough coldness jarring her temporarily from welcoming the encroaching darkness around the edges of her vision. She hadn't expected to win the fight…but she also hadn't expected to feel as she did now, as though every bone in her body had been snapped in a dozen places. She drew a shuddering breath, wincing mentally at the searing pain that ripped through her chest. After a while the blows had stopped hurting, the only thing letting her know that she was being beaten being the dull thuds of boots connecting with her flesh, fists raining down upon her head until she could barely keep her swollen eyes open. Can't say I didn't ask for it…she would have smiled if she could have, she chased pain like some people chased the rush of their first high, it was an addiction of sorts, and she just couldn't let herself be happy. Couldn't let herself find any peace. Sometimes she wondered if what had happened to her had driven her slightly crazy, at least that's what all of her old friends had thought when she'd gone on the last pain seeking binge. Ashley struggled to pull her cell phone from her pocket, pushing herself back to the surface of consciousness, forcing herself to stay awake long enough to make one phone call.

"H-hello?" The voice on the other end sounded breathless, as though the speaker had just finished running a two tour marathon, but it warmed Ashley through.

"Spencer," she said the name almost reverently, "I just…I wanted to say…I'm sorry…I-I-…"

"Ashley?" She waited in silence for a response, "Ashley?" She called again, trying to knock the fear from her voice. The bruised woman heard the words being spoken, could hear the shaking in Spencer's voice as she fought to control an unexplainable fear, but found herself unable to speak, suddenly exhausted beyond comprehension, and sank into the beckoning darkness.

*The song on the jukebox, Arms of a Woman, belongs to Amos Lee and I own none of the rights.