18th February, 2013. 19:34pm

She's sitting between my legs, watching the film on our television, quietly chewing on her bottom lip as the scenes get heavier. She doesn't usually like these types of films, films where people are stalked by some crazy killer; they've never been her type.

She's been watching more of them recently though, really getting into them and the characters that evolve within the plot. We're watching Seven tonight and she's frowning as it comes to an end, as "John Doe" explains his actions to Detective Mills and Somerset.

"See, what I don't understand is they all say it was God's work, God made them do it, God chose them." Spencer whispers, turning her head so she's not looking at the television anymore. "Who is God to tell us what to do, how to act? What happened to free will?"

"Some people really believe that's what they were put on this Earth for, to listen to his words." I tell her, my lips moving against her silky hair. "The rest of us know that isn't true."

"Do you think all people commit horrible crimes in the name of their Lord?" She asks. Her cheek is resting against my chest and I feel her jaw moving faintly as she speaks. I curse internally at her question, hating that it's taken me this long for me to realise just why she's been watching crime films.

"Not all." I reach gently around her and switch the television off, dropping the remote to the floor and wrapping my arms around her waist. She just nods and goes quiet again, putting her hands on top of mine and trying to cuddle herself into my body, trying to get closer.

She's still looking at the wall, still focusing on nothing, when she abruptly gets out of my arms and makes her way into the kitchen. She gets like this sometimes, quiet and reclusive. I worry for her sometimes, worry that when I go to work just how much is she eating and drinking and sleeping. I've seen her sit on the couch, back straight, head in hands, staring at the floor as the hours go by. Not moving, not talking, only just breathing.

"I think we should have a family dinner here." She tells me, referring to the weekly dinners we have to attend with her parents and brother. "We always go to my parents, they should come here." I know what she's doing, she's distracting me from the fact she's pulling away.

"If that's what you want."

"It'd be a nice change, you know?"

She's nodding to herself, like it's a brilliant idea, and starts getting to work on a drink. I stand up slowly and make my way into the kitchen, pausing briefly in the doorway to just watch her. She's gained her weight back and our long walks have given her skin her colour back; she looks beautiful. She's growing too, getting stronger, bolder.

It's nice.

She's getting back to the Spencer I know and love, the Spencer who loves me. She argues with me now, over mundane things, rather than nodding and letting me have my way like she would two months ago. She's more confident too. It may sound ridiculous and stupid, but she changes in the bedroom now after her showers. She doesn't mind it if I run in unannounced, for some unnecessary item, whilst she is changing.

She kisses me first.

"Spencer?"

She turns to me with a soft hum, her eyes lighting up when they see me again and I love that I do that to her. I love that she too falls in love again with each glance.

"Tell me."

A cute, confused smile works it way along her lips and spreads onto her face. She tilts her head in that adorable manner and I hate that I know it's all just a cover. I hate that I know she's avoiding the issue.

"Tell you what?" She asks gently, taking a step towards me. "What do you want to know?"

"What aren't you telling me?" She frowns and after some silence, I try again. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Wrong?" She shakes her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, Ash you're wonderful. Why, have you done something wrong that I don't know about?" She laughs like this isn't breaking my heart.

"No." I whisper.

"Ashley…"

"Please Spencer, you asked me to fix you. You asked me to look after you. How can I do that when I don't even know wh –"

"I want to see Chelsea."

With that she cuts my impassioned speech off right before I could get going, right before I could even try and beg her to talk to me. Because it's there, she spoke to me but I don't think I want to hear it.

She knows I've been to see her, she knows I lost it a little and she knows I never want to go back to that place again.

"I think it'll help me," She tells me slowly, like she's speaking to a child. "Maybe, you know, maybe it will help us."

"We don't need helping, Spence." I tell her boldly, maybe a little naively. "We're fine, aren't we?"

We really are.

She tells me things now; about those horrific days, about what she felt and how scared she got.

And we're passionate again, we make love and it's beautiful.

God, it's getting better.

"We are, yes." And I believe her, how could I not when she's looking at me like that. "But I need to do this, Ash. I need to face her. And then I truly think I can move on, we can move on."

"I don't want you near her, Spence. I can't…" I trail off; feeling pathetic for denying her the one thing that she thinks will save her.

"You really think I want to be in a room with her, Ashley? I don't. I really don't. But I think I have to at least try, I owe myself that."

I look at her and wonder just how long her mind has been made up, before I nod slowly and grasp at her hands.

"I want to go with you."

"Maybe it's best if I do it alone." She tells me warily.

I shake my head, because there is no way any decent girlfriend would let that happen. How could I live with myself if I was sat outside while Chelsea broke her down, hit her where it hurts? I'd never be able to look at her, or myself, again.

I still can't, sometimes.

At night, when Spencer is asleep and I'm too awake to even think– I watch her. And then I wonder how I could ever have let her out of my sights. How could I just let her leave that morning and not given her a chance to come back? I should have known something was wrong with Chelsea. There would have been signs, there had to have been, so why couldn't I see them? What use am I to this woman, this amazing woman, if I can't protect her or save her when she needs me the most?

So no, no she can't go and see her again alone.

"I need to face my fears, baby, and you need to let me do that." She puts her hands on my cheeks. "I thought about you everyday."

"What?"

She looks into my eyes, passion burning bright.

"When I felt like I couldn't breathe, I thought of you and everytime I did, everytime I pictured you, your lips, your eyes, your voice– it saved me. It stopped me from giving up, you saved me."

"No I didn't," I shake my head.

"You saved me." She hisses, pulling me closer to her body. "You and only you, Ashley. I knew you'd find me –"

"But I didn't."

"But you were there. When I woke up, you were there. When I was lost, you were there. When I thought about giving all this up, giving you up, you were there. You saved me each and every time, Ash, and don't you dare think any different." She kisses me so lightly, so tenderly, that I'm shocked at it's force.

She squeezes my hands before releasing them so she can wrap herself around my body and I let my head rest in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent I know will always be with me.

"Only this time, I need to save myself. I need to do this myself, okay?"

"Okay…"

I mutter as a response, feeling myself relax further into her embrace.

"…But I'm waiting outside."

She chuckles at my stubborn tone and nods, kissing my temple before moving away and finishing the drink I distracted her from.

22nd October, 2012. 13:57pm

"Ash," Paula looked up from the mixing bowl filled with chocolate sauce and turned to her daughter's girlfriend. "How are you?"

Curls bounced as the young woman nodded, continuing her task of finding the marshmallows that Spencer needed. Routing in the top cupboard she tried to ignore the stinging sensation behind her eyes at the elder womans comforting tone, because fuck, why was she upset over a question?

But she knew.

Most children could lose count how many times their parents asked how they were. Not Ashley. And that fact, the nauseating feeling that her own mother hadn't been in contact after everything, hit her hard. Winded her. Wounded her.

A soft hand on her shoulder stopped her search and she let out a shuddering breath.

"I'm not Spencer, Ashley." The eldest Carlin whispered, "You don't have to be brave around me. It's okay."

Feeling the itch of a tear on her cheek, the brunette swiped at it hurridly, before quickly learning that she was fighting a losing battle. When had she started crying? Turning around, she felt herself wrapped in the comforting arms of the only person she knew of as a mom.

"It's okay, Ashley." Paula cooed over quiet sobs, her own throat closing at the younger girls agony.

"I just - I couldn't help her before." Clinging tighter to the blue sweater the woman wore, Ashley took a breath. "She was so close, Paula. So close."

"I know." Walking them backwards in a way only a mother knew how, Paula sat down at the table with the sad girl. "Sweetheart, you're here now and that's all that counts."

"What if it's...What if it's not enough, Paula?" The broken tone in her voice scared Ashley, it scared her that she wasn't as strong as she thought she was.

"How do you mean?" Picking a tissue from the box on the table, Paula dabbed at the smudged mascara around the girls eyes. A gesture that only served to make Ashley more upset, her eyes scrunching together tightly.

"She flinches around me," The girl whispered, shaking her head. "She's scared and I can't stop it, I can't stop what's in her mind."

"You're not alone in this, you know? We're all here."

"But I'm supposed to love her."

"You do love her, Ashley, we all see that. Time is key here, she's still your Spencer."

"Paula?" The cracked name caused the woman to look up into wounded eyes. "Tell me you think I can look after her. Tell me you trust me."

"Ashley," Paula sighed softly and almost laughed at how niave this poor girl was, how blinded she was to just how perfect she was for her girl.

"Please and don't lie, tell me I can save her."

She just needed that reassurance from someone older, that guidence she so desperately wanted since she was a child.

"I've given you on of the most precious things in my life, honey. I've given you my baby girl, my daughter. I know in my heart that you'll care for her and love her. Otherwise I'd have had you out on the street years ago," Together they laughed at Paula's faux-angry look.

"I just want her to be happy, safe."

"She's happiest when she's with you. I remember once, you'd had that fight and you'd walked out in the middle of dinner. She was so angry, she didn't even follow you; remember?" Ashley nodded, not really liking Paula's example of their love.

"Yeah."

"Then she spent the night. Ashley, for two hours she stared at that phone until you rang to say you were safe and you were sorry. And then you fought again, and she put the phone down on you; but do you know what? She was at her happiest when you were talking for those five minutes than she ever had been that day."

"I don't like making her mad."

"But you do and that's the joy of it all, sweetheart." She grasped the tanned girls hand in hers, despite the confused look. "You make each other mad, you make each other laugh, dance, cry, shout - it's love, it's what makes you human. God, me and Arthur have a weekly argument. It's what keeps me young."

For the first time that night, Ashley smiled.

"You look fine, Mrs C." She winked and stood up, done with the emotions and feelings and all the things she didn't do. "In fact, they do say look to the mother to see what the daughter will turn out to be like..." Grabbing at a bag of marshmallows, which had been on the side all along, Ashley started walking backwards out of the room.

Watching her go, Paula smiled. She turned to the family picture on the wall and made a mental note that one day, sometime soon, that picture would have Ashley on it and her little girl would be in a wedding dress.

20th February, 2013. 12:45pm.

I smile at Ashley before I walk through the double doors to where an officer is sat, she doesn't smile back, and she just watches me as I move into the next room.

I was half expecting it to be a communal room, I wanted it to be. I was sure Chelsea wouldn't hurt me if fifty other women were present, whereas in this room I couldn't be too sure. But we'd had a letter previously. Chelsea had been moved for her own safety into another wing, fights had broken out and apparently Chelsea was involved. I close my eyes and stop walking, praying I could do this and wondering where the hell my best friend had gone.

Chelsea in college didn't have fights, she solved them. She didn't have sick thoughts, she fucking painted pictures for Christ's sake. Maybe she was like this all along. Ash always said I had the amazing flaw of always wanting to find the best in people, always wanting to think they were better than they or anyone else believed.

"Are you okay?" I feel a large hand on the small of my back and I nod quickly, not wanting to worry the young officer next to me. He couldn't be more than twenty-three and I pitied all the wrong in this world he was going to see before his twenty-fifth birthday. "Do you want some water?"

"No I'm fine, thank you." I smile at him before walking to where a woman in a smart suit is standing, a sympathetic smile on her pretty face.

"Hey," She greets casually, bringing me to ease instantly. "I'm Detective Danes; I worked with Detective Harper on your case." That sentence was almost like a question, like I'd forgotten the dozen flowers Ashley had sent to her and the thank you card to Detective Harper.

"Yes." I'm not sure of what to say really. "Thank you."

"I just need to go through a few things with you, is that okay?" I nod and she smiles again, this time it's prettier than the work smile she gave me earlier. "Miss Daniels, Chelsea, as you will notice when you go in has been placed in restraining cuffs." She must notice my eyes widen and gently places a hand on my arm, "Not because we think she may hurt you, or us, it's just a precaution okay?"

"I…Yeah, okay."

"Miss Carlin, Chelsea isn't very co-operative and some questions you ask she may not answer. I know you've come here hoping for answers but you may not find everything you're looking for." She watches me, her soft gaze penetrating me.

"I need to do this." I repeat my mantra to her.

"And that's perfectly fine." She lets go of my arm and starts walking to a door with a little sign saying 'occupied.'

"Miss Danes?"

"Jessica please." She turns to me and quirks an eyebrow, making me instantly think of Ashley. I frown when I think of her sat alone.

"Will there be someone in there with me?"

"Yes, an officer and I will be present." She leaves her hand on the door handle. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah." I breathe out, relieved. "Um,"

"Whatever you need, Miss Carlin, just ask."

"Can somebody, um, Ash is alone and I just –"

"I'll get someone to sit with her, don't worry yourself."

I smile at her gratefully, thankfully, because as strong as Ashley is and as much as she tries for me; I know she isn't coping well knowing I'm going to be seeing the dark-haired woman. I know she hates how much power she has over me and how little she can do about it.

My eyes cast up to the police officer and I nod once, letting her know that yes, I'm ready to do this and no, I'm not going to regret anything. Moments pass and I watch the door swing open. There's no ominous creak, no flickering light, no howling wind; but it's just as tense, just as scary because as the door opens, I see her and my heart stops and my stomach twists.

That woman, bound like she once bound me, is staring at me. No pity, no remorse. Just a sad, sick smile resting on her lips. She doesn't even falter and she tilts her head to the side and brings her cuffed hands from her lap to onto the table.

"Finally," Chelsea drawls. "I wondered how long it'd take you."