AN: Yes, I realize how long it's been. Thank you to everyone who's still with me. Writing and racking up debt at the same time is hard. I pulled from a few of the show's scenes and reworked them for this chapter. Enjoy!
As always, remember to drop me a review (and share if you feel so inclined)! I love hearing from you!
"So, Emily," Ms. Fey started, closing the door to her office, "How are you feeling about being here so far."
Emily thought about how to phrase her answer, "It's okay." She wanted to avoid coming off as rude to the social worker, who was acting as her on-site therapist, and the shallow response was her best bet.
"You don't have to be polite, Emily. How have your first couple weeks been?"
"Well I'm not thrilled about having to come here every day," Emily said bluntly.
"You do get to see Alison when you're here."
Subtle, Emily internally scoffed at the woman trying to steer the session toward Alison. "I still prefer to see my friends outside of hospitals."
"But Alison is much more than a friend, isn't she?"
Emily fought the urge to audibly groan, rubbing her fingers against her temple. "She is, but I'd really rather not talk about her with you." She trusted Ms. Fey more than Alison trusted Kavanaugh, but the couple agreed not to discuss their relationship in their sessions.
"Alright," the therapist quelled. "That's perfectly fine. Do you spend a lot of time with your friends?"
They're with me all fucking day. Of course I do. "I try to, on the outside, if that's what you mean."
"You talk about Day Treatment like it's a prison," Ms. Fey observed.
"Well…" Emily drew out. The woman could guess the rest.
"Has your sleeping improved any?"
"Kind of." The nightmares and night terrors hadn't ceased completely, but more often than not, she had a better chance of sleeping through the night if she was encompassed in Alison's loving arms. Her parents had no idea how to calm her down when she jolted awake in a dazed panic, crying, screaming, or both.
Pam and Wayne were hesitant at first, but they started to let Alison sleep over more. With Alison there, they could rest easy knowing that their daughter was being cared for by the only person who could reach her in that state.
"What do you think has been helping you?"
They would go to school the next morning, mixing and matching various articles of each other's clothing, earning them endless teasing from Hanna and providing a show for Spencer.
"Emily."
She glanced up and her eyes landed on the therapist's wedding and engagement rings. How would I propose to Ali? How was she already thinking about that? She couldn't even imagine where they would be when they got to that point in their lives and couldn't vividly picture it. All she knew was that she wanted it to be private.
"Emily," Ms. Fey called again, a bit louder this time.
The brunette snapped out of her thoughts. "What?"
"Did you remember to take the Concerta today?"
Emily shook her head, "No. I rushed out of the house this morning and forgot." Forgetting the meds that morning hadn't been her rushing so much as it had been Alison's hands distracting her while she got ready. Now that she was on a full dose of Concerta, Alison trusted herself to drive them to the hospital, and Emily quickly learned that the blonde was a much more assertive driver than she was.
The brunette remembered where she was and looked at the therapist. "What was I just talking about?"
# # #
"Hanna, there's nothing wrong with pancakes," Emily stated from the desk behind the blonde.
"Girls," Mr. Cassidy called, trying to get their attention back on the book.
"Yes there is!"
"Let's get back to reading," the english teacher tried again.
"No there isn't. It's the same batter—"
"That was too lazy to be a waffle!"
"Girls, I—Oh what the hell," Mr. Cassidy gave up and leaned back.
Hanna and Emily were finally pulled from their creative discussion by the loud squeak that came from the hinges on the swivel chair.
"Sorry," Emily apologized.
"Are you ready to get back to reading?" Mr. Cassidy asked.
The two nodded and opened up the unit's worn copies of No Country for Old Men, quickly turning the pages to find their lost places.
"Hanna, you read."
The blonde whined dramatically, but did as she was told.
The further into the page they got, the less Emily paid attention. Her mind jumped around from gun control to cowboy hats and then somehow landed on Alison and carnival food.
"Em, it's your turn," Hanna nudged the swimmer's back with the spine of the book.
"What?" the brunette picked her head up from her palm.
"It's your turn to read."
"Oh, uh…what page are we on?" Emily asked sheepishly.
Mr. Cassidy glanced over his desk at Emily's book, "Half way down the next page." He was a lot more patient than the teachers Emily dealt with in middle school, the ones who would yell at her to just be more focused and organized.
As she finished stumbling over words and lines, she realized she hadn't processed anything she had just read. She hoped Mr. Cassidy wasn't going to assign homework on this because that meant reading on her own time and possibly answering questions about it. Then she was screwed.
"Yesterday is all that does count," Hanna read aloud. "What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it's made out of. Nothin' else."
Emily listened intently as Hanna read, frowning when her mind firmly grasped what was being said. What does my yesterday count for? With everything that had happened, it was hard to say that her yesterday counted for much, let alone her tomorrow.
# # #
Alison clenched her fist around her pencil and gripped the edge of the history textbook, trying to tune out Denver's humming which had been driving her up the wall for the past 20 minutes. He was high functioning autism spectrum and sometimes couldn't pick up on when people were getting annoyed.
Mr. Finnerty noticed her knuckles turning white. "Hey, Denver?" The boy looked up. "Let's try to keep the humming to a minimum, buddy."
"Oh, okay," he said in his soft, child-like voice. "Oops."
Mr. Finnerty flashed a thumbs-up and gave a Matthew McConaughey, "Alright alright alright."
Denver giggled and turned his attention to the back of Alison's head. "You have pretty hair," he said, sitting behind the blonde.
Alison glanced around and made eye contact with Mr. Finnerty who gave her a nod, verifying that Denver was indeed talking to her. "Thank you," she shakily forced out, not actually turning around to fully address the source of the compliment.
She returned to diligently answering the chapter questions on a sheet of looseleaf. Since getting her dose bumped up, she was getting about half way through the questions, though still not getting as far as the other patients. The struggle of actually reading the words on the page correctly and processing them had yet to become a less grueling chore.
"How are you doing, Alison?"
How do I look like I'm doing? Mr. Finnerty didn't mean to bother her. The history teacher's genuine kindness actually made her feel more comfortable talking with the other kids in the room. She decided to give him the easy answer. "Fine, I guess."
"Not doing too hot?" he replied knowingly.
Alison shrugged.
The teacher nodded and took a sip of coffee from his tumbler mug, "I won't tell you that it'll all be okay." He watched Alison and Spencer's eyebrows raise. "I don't like to tell kids that everything will be fine because it might not be, you know? It's like giving someone false hope."
Some people may have thought of what he said as pessimistic, but Alison appreciated his honesty and Spencer appreciated his realistic view on the world.
"You'll get used to this place," Joey interjected. "Well maybe you won't get used to it, but you'll numb soon."
Alison and Spencer didn't flinch at how dark and self-aware the 10 year old's thoughts were. It was sad to think that kids talking this way had become normal to them.
"Getting used to it might be the lesser option, Joey," Spencer countered.
"What do you mean by that?" Mr. Finnerty asked.
Alison smiled to herself and quietly observed, glad that Bellevue had teachers who let them have discussions like this—when the doctors weren't around to hear it—instead of hastily shutting them up.
"Creating a comfortable routine is important, regardless of where you are, but I don't think it's healthy to get used to a place like this. I'm not saying that numbing yourself is always the answer, it's just that sometimes you need to take emotion out of the equation to find the solution."
Alison contemplated and decided she didn't stand with Spencer on this one. Letting the doctors push her to numbness is what took away the joy of talking. Letting herself feel is what gave her Emily. Sometimes emotion was the only thing she could count on, good or bad.
Alison froze at the sound of footsteps growing louder, a cold shiver running down her spine as the clacking peaked and halted at the doorway to Mr. Finnerty's classroom. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Kavanaugh.
"Denver, Joey, it's time to go to group. Go catch up with Ezekiel and Michael," the therapist ordered, feigning a friendly smile.
The blonde muttered into her textbook. She had told Kavanaugh, very early on, that the bereavement group she attended after her Uncle Richie died was the only therapy she had ever found helpful. Despite this, two weeks had already passed and neither her nor the other girls had been assigned to groups.
"And Alison, sweetie…"
Alison clenched her jaw and willed herself to keep facing forward, digging her nails into her palms at the term of endearment. This woman did not know her well enough for it to sound like anything, but condescending. Alison shut her eyes, hoping that the psychologist wasn't going to call her in for a session.
"I'll come get you next period before lunch," Kavanaugh said and walked away, leaving Alison to cringe after the only woman who had ever supplied such delayed dissatisfaction.
# # #
Over the past couple weeks, the girls had all started to notice that Alison was speaking less. The blonde was still showing the swimmer all the same affection—the touches, the glances, resting her head on her shoulder—but she would slip into unnerving silence the second they stepped foot in the day room.
Emily sat next to Alison at lunch, resting a comforting hand on her thigh. While Alison relaxed somewhat at her touch, Emily could still feel how hard the blonde was steeling herself. Her eyes darted around as she reacted to every movement and sound, still very much present, but she wasn't letting herself be visibly affected by anything. Her face remained expressionless and she was hesitant to do something as simple as shifting in her seat.
Hanna picked up on Alison rotating between staring at the edge of the table, drawing on the back of the point sheet and staring at the tip of her pencil. She looked to Emily for an answer, but the brunette mouthed a defeated I don't know and shrugged.
Alison heard the faint sound of the double doors to the school being unlocked and lightly squeezed Emily's hand before getting up from the table. Ms. Meena signed her point sheet and she started out of the day room, never allowing herself to look back.
Emily solemnly watched her girlfriend leave the room. It had become a routine for Alison; going through lunch in silence, listening for the school doors to be unlocked, and being the first one out with their point sheet signed. But Emily never followed right away. The blonde needed some time to herself everyday and she wanted to respect that.
"Em," Spencer called, breaking the brunette out of her trance. She had finally figured out why Alison was being so quiet.
"Huh?"
Spencer nodded to the corner of the day room.
Emily turned her head and saw Kavanaugh and Dr. Alcerra's critical eyes following Alison out of the room. Dr. Alcerra seemed to care less, but the telling look that Kavanaugh was shooting her put it all together for Emily. The therapist wasn't happy with Alison's bad behavior and with the way Dr. Alcerra was watching the blonde, Kavanaugh clearly hadn't been keeping their sessions to herself.
"I'm gonna go talk to her," Emily hastily got up and pushed her chair in.
After getting her point sheet signed by Ms. Robbie, Emily trod down the hallway to the school. "Ali?" she called.
"She's in there," Mr. Napoli said from the doorway of the office.
Emily turned to look at the room he was pointing to and was relieved when she remembered that they had art with Ms. Lipton next.
The curly haired woman understood that this environment was rough on some kids and she would let her art room be a place where they could create without thinking. She was glad that there was only one high-top table in the room so there couldn't be more than 4 kids in the class at a time.
The brunette poked her head into the art room and found her girlfriend sitting on a stool at the table, leaning her head against the shelf of various art supplies.
She quietly took the seat next to Alison and brought her hand up to the back of the blonde's neck. Alison closed her eyes and hummed at the feeling of Emily's fingers gently massaging the knotted nape.
"You holding up okay?" Emily asked softly.
Alison nodded, bringing her hand back to interlace their fingers over her neck.
"Are you feeling the Remeron yet?"
"Not yet."
Emily paused for a moment, "Talk to me." Alison's unsettling quietness was beginning to manifest beyond the walls of the day room and it was becoming increasingly worrisome.
Alison shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes shut. "I don't have anything to say."
"I know you, Ali," Emily pushed lightly. "I know you like talking to people."
Alison felt her throat start to burn as her eyes welled. "I don't feel that anymore," the blonde whispered, her voice cracking. She could feel the part of her that enjoyed talking to people slipping away from her and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop it.
The brunette furrowed her brow and lightly pressed her thumb to the sensitive spot behind Alison's jaw, "Don't let those doctors take your voice away."
"It's already gone, Em," she said weakly.
Emily's heart clenched at the sad truth in Alison's words; part of Alison had just died. She turned the blonde's head toward her and saw new cracks forming behind her eyes. Every little fracture made Emily realize that when they were discharged, they would still be damaged, but in a different way.
Alison blinked away a tear. She had started to speak less, as a way of staying out of trouble, but it was mostly to protect the integrity of her and Emily's relationship. If Kavanaugh was in earshot, she wouldn't verbally communicate with anyone. They were not an exhibit or the therapist's lab rats and she figured that if she didn't say anything, the psychologist wouldn't have anything to analyze or belittle.
Now the memories of talking freely and comfortably in large groups were starting to fade. Being here killed that part of her and she didn't think it was getting revived or rebuilt any time soon—not as long as they were in day treatment. "I just don't—"
"You don't have to," Emily said, wiping the tear away with her thumb. "I just miss your voice."
"I'm sorry," the blonde forced out.
"Don't be sorry," Emily shook her head. "You be as quiet as you need to be," she ducked slightly to meet Alison's eyes. "I'll still be here when you wanna talk."
Alison sat there with her lips parted, hesitant and unable to speak. At some point she had lost sight of why she had become quiet and she was afraid that she would lose the very thing she had done it for in the first place.
Alison exhaled slowly through her mouth to calm herself and let Emily drape an arm around her, pulling her into her side.
Emily turned her head back to find Hanna and Spencer standing in the doorway. She gave them a nod to come in and leaned her cheek against the top of Alison's head.
Hanna eyed the blonde slumped against Emily, dully staring at the table as she and Spencer carefully took their seats across from the couple. "Ali, are you okay?" she asked, not expecting anything more than a nod or a shrug.
"I'm tired," Alison said flat out.
"I thought you said that the Remeron helped you sleep."
Alison's eyes flickered up to look at Hanna, and Spencer immediately discerned her overwhelming exhaustion. "That's not what she means, Han." Spencer watched as it clicked for Hanna when she caught Alison's glance.
Alison's mind flashed to Kavanaugh, something she couldn't seem to stop from happening every few minutes—the backhanded compliments, the cold eyes that drilled into her whenever she was around. "Never look back, Hanna," the blonde said sullenly. She wasn't going to lie, she wasn't going to feign a smile for her friends' benefit. "Something might be gaining on you." She was done. She'd had enough.
Hanna sat there stunned by the bleakness in Alison's words.
"Hey, why don't we go to The Grille later? Grab an early dinner?" Spencer suggested, trying to move away from the dark subject.
"You up for it, babe?" Emily asked gently. She wanted to keep Alison around people, but she also didn't want to push her too far.
Alison smiled at the pet name. It wasn't one she used often, if any. It made her heart flutter every time Emily used a term of endearment or pressed her warm lips to any part of her body, no matter how cold and desolate her mind was.
She looked up at the swimmer from her shoulder and nodded. Emily lightly scratched Alison's neck and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay with me," she murmured against her temple.
The brunette held the blonde close and wondered how much of Alison would be left by the time they were discharged.
# # #
Hanna and Emily went to the restroom in the back of The Grille to wash up before the meal, while Spencer shared her pocket sized bottle of hand sanitizer with Alison.
Spencer had gotten less anal and uptight in the last few years since she had started rapid cycling. It made her realize that you couldn't be prepared for everything, all you could do was learn how to cope, but a Hastings never forgot hand sanitizer.
She skimmed through the menu, even though she already knew exactly what she wanted, just looking for something to occupy herself. Unlocking her phone, she started to re-read some New York Times articles. Alison obviously wasn't in a state of mind to make small talk. The blonde had become a good friend to her and Hanna and she would gladly comfort her in a second, but a coddling friend was not what she needed right now. Right now, letting her be was the polite thing to do.
"Spencer?" Alison called softly in the seat across from her.
Spencer jerked her head up, surprised to hear the blonde's voice. Alison hadn't been the one to initiate a conversation in over a week.
"Do you think me and Emily…" she struggled to finish the question because she felt stupid for asking. "Do you think we're too dependent on each other?"
Alison made a point to say we because it felt like she was the only one who needed support. As much as she didn't doubt the swimmer's love for her, Emily being a strong woman who didn't need her was a very real thought that wasn't slow to dawn in her mind.
Spencer registered the question and furrowed her brow, pressing the sleep/wake button on her phone. "Where is this coming from?"
"Kavanaugh said something." She had told herself that she wouldn't let the therapist affect her and Emily, but the words wouldn't stop looping in her head.
"Do you think you are?"
"You didn't answer the question."
"I'm asking one now."
"Spence, come on," Alison pleaded weakly.
Spencer ceded and set her phone down, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the table. "I don't think that you're dependent on each other."
The blonde wasn't going to be so easily swayed, worrying at her bottom lip and tightly wringing her wrists.
"You're not dependent on her," Spencer said honestly. "Yes, in a way, I think you need her, but I don't think that your happiness is completely contingent on her."
"This is still sounding a lot like dependence."
"Ali," the brunette shook her head and chuckled. "This is you and Emily. We're not talking about some unhealthy cycle of codependency. You obviously love her more than life—I mean you love a lot of things more than life right now—but that's besides the point. My point is," Spencer took a second to quickly reorganize her thoughts. "If you were able to bond that deeply with someone, in the middle of all this, then I don't really see how needing her could be a bad thing." She took Alison's eased facial expression as a sign to continue. "I know you don't think so right now, but you are strong, Ali, and Emily needs you too."
Alison smiled lightly, thinking about the nights the brunette clung to her, as she soothed the wrists she had been wringing with her thumbs.
When the elder Fieldses let Alison stay over, the girls always found themselves wrapped up in each other's protective arms. She could never say she minded holding the brunette, but sometimes it was preceded by gently bringing her down from panic attacks and night terrors.
"You know, Ali, there's a version of this where we could have all ended up dead."
That statement held a lot more truth than Spencer knew.
"You and Emily found love and support in each other, and I don't know anybody who couldn't use some of that."
"Thanks, Spence," Alison smiled, though still not completely convinced.
Spencer smiled back and nodded as Emily and Hanna returned from the restroom.
"What did we miss?" Emily asked, pulling her seat out and kissing Alison as she sat down.
The blonde simpered against Emily's lingering lips. "Not much."
"Hey," Aria greeted as she approached their table.
"Aria?" Alison turned to her friend with a confused look. "What are you doing here?"
"I texted her and told her to come," Emily supplied, getting up and pulling a chair over for the smaller brunette. "You haven't seen her in a while. I thought it would be nice for us to hang out again."
Alison struggled to find her words.
"Do you not want me here?" Aria worried.
"No, I do." Alison hesitated and sighed heavily, "I want you to have a normal life. You should be hanging out with everyone at Dalton. You shouldn't be separating yourself from that to literally hang out with a bunch of mental patients."
"Ali, I'm having dinner with my best friend. This is normal." She squeezed Alison's hand over the table and the blonde gave her a grateful smile. "Oh, and you probably shouldn't let them hear you calling yourself that in Bellevue. That therapist will think you're developing a complex."
"Aria, I think you meant to say dunch before," Hanna said matter-of-factly.
"No, Han, it's linner," Spencer corrected.
Aria leaned closer to Alison and Emily, "Are they seriously arguing about this right now?" she whispered.
The 3 girls watched the blonde and brunette continue their debate.
"No it's not, Spence."
"Yes it is. Lunch precedes dinner, so it's linner!"
"But that sounds like math!"
"You're thinking of linear algebra. It's math involving planes, lines and—"
"Stop defining at me!"
The couple turned back to Aria, "This is how they bond," Emily deadpanned.
"I bet they're real fun at parties."
"How are Mike and Mona?" Alison asked.
Aria pondered, "They're okay I guess. I think he still worries about her shutting him out."
Mike and Mona's relationship intrigued Alison. They were kind of like her and Emily's heterosexual parallel. You had one person who people saw as a monster because of the things they once said and did, and another who could see the kindness in their heart and bring it out for the world to see. Both damaged in different ways, but damaged all the same.
"Any word on her discharge?" Spencer asked.
Apparently Mona's two week acclimation was up and they were finally transferring her to Day Treatment in 21 East.
"We should do something this weekend," Spencer said while everyone looked through their menus.
"Ooh," Hanna squealed giddily. "We should go swimming!"
Emily stiffened while Spencer and Aria looked at the blonde like she was out of her mind.
"You do realize it's the dead of winter, right?" Aria said skeptically.
"Yeah," Spencer joined. "It's that cold thing happening outside right now."
"It wasn't cold enough to freeze the lake over this year," Hanna argued.
"It's still cold enough to freeze our asses off!"
"Rosewood High has a heated indoor," the blonde suggested. "We can just go to Em's pool. You're friends with the coach right?"
Alison sensed Emily's discomfort, noticing her hidden grimace when her bad shoulder twitched.
"Um," the swimmer started uneasily. She hadn't thought of it as her pool in a long time. "I haven't really talked to anyone there since…"
Alison interlaced her fingers with Emily's and looked to Aria for help.
The smaller brunette immediately understood and interjected, "I think swimming can wait until we can go in the lake without getting hypothermia." She glanced down and then up at Alison. The blonde caught her eyeing their clasped hands and arched a brow, challenging her to say something. Aria smiled, impressed that she didn't waver anymore. She didn't shift in her seat, clear her throat, or avoid eye contact. She stood by her love for Emily completely.
But that didn't mean Aria wasn't going to push Alison's buttons, knowing that the blonde could never be mad at her.
The small brunette gestured to the couple, "How's this going? Facebook official?"
Alison pursed her lips to fight a smile and melodramatically looked in the opposite direction.
"If Emily used Facebook," Hanna butted in. "You know they still haven't even gone on a first date yet?"
Emily rolled her eyes and grumbled, "We never got around to it."
"Throwing myself at you that night in the unit didn't count as a date?" Alison whispered to the brunette, nudging her side. Emily chuckled and brought her arm around to rest on the back of Alison's chair. The couple realized Alison hadn't been very quiet when they looked up and found Hanna trying not to do a spit take, and the other two brunettes staring at them with wide eyes.
"That's one way to start a relationship," Aria snickered.
"And you started yours with Fitz next to a toilet with a faucet digging into your back," Alison quipped back and the rest of the table snorted.
"Why did I tell you about that?" the brunette shook her head, laughing to herself.
Alison felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Why did she say that? Aria was her best friend. She had no reason to do that. Had she always made jokes like that? Christ, what else had she said to people?
Aria noticed the frown on her friend's face, "Ali—"
"Aria, I'm sorry…" Alison sat there, aghast and furious with herself.
"It's okay," the brunette tried to reassure her, "I know you didn't—"
Before she could get another word out, Alison was already up and frantically pacing out of The Grille. The girls promptly followed after the blonde as her frustrated hands fumbled with her bag to find her keys.
"Ali!" Emily called. Her fast walk turned into a jog when she saw her girlfriend getting into her car across the street. "Alison!" Her swimmer's legs weren't enough, making it to the other side only to watch the blonde's taillights disappear.
She let her hands rest on her head as she caught her breath and waited for the others to cross.
Spencer jogged over to Emily. "Where'd she just go?"
Emily threw her arms out, "She left me."
"She didn't leave you, Em, she probably just went home. Come on, I'll give you a ride," Aria motioned over her shoulder to her car. She knew it must feel like a stab to the heart, watching the blonde drive off, but when Alison was that distraught, chances of getting through to her were slim to none—even for Emily.
"Do you want us to come?" Spencer asked.
"No," Emily sighed, "You and Han can go eat. Maybe pushing her to be around people was too overwhelming today."
Spencer nodded. "It might take her longer than you to adjust to normal settings again. She has to learn how to live on meds that are making her more self-aware than she's used to."
# # #
Alison floored it home, neither thinking about the speed limit nor all the lights she had just run. Surely the faster she got herself away from everyone, the better.
She let her unzipped bag empty out on the floor and slammed the door shut, hyperventilating as her boots battered the stairs up to her bedroom with every turbulent step.
"Fucking fantastic," she growled to herself, fists clenched at her sides as she paced in circles.
Aria and Emily pulled up to the DiLaurentis house and found Alison's car door wide open. Emily pressed the door lock switch and ran to catch up with the smaller brunette.
"When I don't talk, I upset Emily, and when I do talk, I hurt people!" Why had she just left The Grille? She could have listened to what Aria had to say. "You removed yourself from the situation," Alison tried to reason with herself. She had learned that in play therapy when she was a little girl and now she was wishing she hadn't because she just stormed out of the restaurant and ruined what could have been a nice meal for everyone. She scoffed, "Now I'm talking to myself."
She backed into the chair in front of her vanity and gripped the back rest as hard as she could in an attempt to avoid hitting something. "Don't," she spat. Her knuckles turned white. "Don't." Her fists began to shake. "Stop," she pleaded.
It only took half a second for her to snap, winding a kick back into one of the chair's legs, breaking it clean off. She lifted the seat and used it as a make-shift bat, sending makeup and bottles of nail polish hurtling toward her lamp, breaking the small glass shade.
In the back of her head, she knew this was a bad idea, but at times like this it felt like she couldn't control what her body was doing.
She punched one of the walls she knew was weak and broke through the pink coated sheetrock. Before she knew it, her fist had found its way into the vanity mirror and shards of glass were flying across the room.
"Oh my God," Aria panted from the doorway, taking in the shards of glass strewn all over the floor.
"Ali," a pained Emily breathed when she rounded the corner. Her eyes moved from the shattered glass and landed on the jarring crimson blood oozing from Alison's knuckles. She moved swiftly, stepping in front of the blonde and wrapping her arms around her to prevent her fist from re-connecting with what was left of the mirror.
"Let me go, Emily!" Alison tried to fight the swimmer's strong hold.
Aria's heart ached seeing her friend so unhinged, so hurt.
Keeping the blonde's arms restrained in the embrace, Emily began walking them away from the vanity, backing Alison toward her wardrobe.
"Let me go!" she repeated as she struggled to accept the rein, her voice sounding weaker this time.
"No," Emily maintained calmly, tightening her hold.
"Let me—"
Alison's back hit the closet and Emily felt her gasp and finally give in. The blonde's devastating cries seethed through her gritted teeth. Her violent thrashing tapered and she gripped Emily's back, letting out her muffled sobs into her Mermaid.
Emily pressed herself firmly to Alison, giving her more leeway to slump.
"I'm sorry," Alison hiccuped over and over into the tear soaked collar of the brunette's varsity jacket. She felt Emily loosen her hold slightly, letting her arms free, and she clutched onto the swimmer's shoulders for dear life.
"It's okay," Emily soothed. "You're okay. I'm here." The blonde continued to whimper and hyperventilate in her arms, only making it harder to accept that the only thing she could do, for the girl she would do anything for, was be there.
"Why do I…have to be like this?" Alison managed to get out between convulsions.
"Breathe, Ali," the brunette whispered.
"Why is…everything…so wrong with me?"
"Come on," Emily gently encouraged, "Longer breaths."
Alison brought her arms around Emily's neck, following the brunette's deep inhales and exhales as best she could until her gasps were reduced to the occasional hiccup.
Emily held her warm hand to the back of the blonde's neck, cold after leaving her jacket at The Grille. "Ali, you're freezing."
"Look at everything that's wrong with me, Em." Alison scrunched up a fist full of the letterman, ignoring Emily's observation, and looked at her reflection in the mirror's remains. "I was always meant to break."
Emily glanced over her shoulder at Aria returning with a first aid kit, and waited for Alison's breathing to settle before slowly guiding them down to a clear spot on the floor. She let the blonde out of the embrace and gently took hold of her wounded hand.
Alison stared down at the blood that varnished her knuckles. She looked around the room, taking in all she had done. It looked like a tornado had passed through and decided to camp out.
"It feels bad when you can't control it," Emily said knowingly, lifting Alison's legs to rest over hers.
Alison nodded.
Emily briefly turned to Aria, who handed her the first aid kit, "Thanks." The brunette was surprised that Alison didn't wince when she applied the rubbing alcohol, but remembered the scars on her legs. Those wounds must have made these gashes look and feel like paper cuts.
"You can see what you're doing, where you're going," she continued, "But you can't steer. It's like driving toward a pole and staring at it for a hundred yards knowing you're going to hit it."
"Control," Alison said quietly.
Emily and Aria's eyes lifted to meet the blonde's.
Control—that's what mental illness took away. Whether the behavior was compulsive or impulsive, debilitating depression or a manic episode, it was all present because mental illness was.
"Why is none of this phasing you?" Alison asked.
Emily paused and chuckled darkly before resuming wrapping Alison's lacerated hand. "That wouldn't have been my first mirror," she admitted. She watched Alison's eyes fixate on one of the large shards that lay near her feet. Dread washed over her entire body at the thought of one day being too late to impel the blonde away from self-harm. "Ali, don't."
Alison sighed heavily and shut her eyes. "I'm not." Part of her wanted so desperately to cut, another part of her was embarrassed that she had cut at all, and another part of her was too dormant to remember that Aria was in the room and didn't know about her scars.
"Look at me," Emily said firmly.
Alison slowly met her sympathetic orbs.
"You were not meant to break," Emily spoke with a slow, clear fervency that willed Alison to maintain eye contact.
"Emily, look around," the blonde begged defeatedly. "How can you even say that I wasn't?"
"Because I see how you are after your sessions," Emily replied, the graveness in her voice uncomfortably sobering. "It looks like it gets harder and harder for you to stand every time you walk out of her office. She's getting to you, I can see it!" Emily was almost begging Alison to grasp what she was trying to say. "People like her don't bend your will without the intention to break you." She held up the shard of glass, "And you're worth so much more than harming yourself."
Aria's eyes watered as it became clear. Her best friend had been hurting badly enough to self-harm and she had never noticed. She had never even thought to notice.
Alison saw the tears gathering in Aria's eyes. "I got really good at hiding it, Aria," she tried to assure her friend. "It wasn't your job to figure it out."
Aria scooted closer to Alison and took one of her hands, careful of the bandages. "You can't beat yourself up for every little thing that happens. I know you didn't mean what you said at The Grille. That's just how you are sometimes. It's your sense of humor."
"Aria, if I said that without thinking then what the hell have I been saying to people for the past 17, 18 years? The world isn't filled with a bunch of forgiving Arias."
"The world isn't filled with a bunch of resilient Alisons either," Aria readily countered. "You are the only you the world has," the petite brunette proclaimed. "And the world shouldn't miss out on you." She sounded like the corny quotes that she hated, but she'd rather that than risk furthering the anguish in Alison's eyes.
"You can't keep running away," Emily chimed in. "Or driving away," she teased.
Realization hit Alison and she buried her face in her hands, "Oh God, I left you at The Grille."
"It's okay, I gave her a ride," Aria reassured.
"And we should probably work on remembering to lock your doors. I wouldn't be too worried about anyone stealing your old homework though."
Alison let out a watery chuckle and leaned her head back on the closet. Her eyes began to droop and the two brunettes could see that the breakdown was catching up with her, fast. Her body had been running on adrenaline and Emily knew that the drained feeling was setting in.
"Let's get you downstairs," Aria prompted, standing up.
Alison eyed the scattered glass, unable to suppress the guilt for what she did, all of the damage she left in her wake.
"We can clean it later," Emily assured, pulling Alison up to her feet. "Right now we need to get you out of this room."
"What am I supposed to tell my mom?" Alison started wringing her wrists, but Emily held them in place.
"The truth."
Alison gave her a fearful look of disbelief. "Emily," she nervously glanced down to her leg.
"You don't have to tell her about that," Emily soothed. "Not right away. Not until you're ready."
Alison swallowed thickly.
"You are going to have to start letting her in again," the swimmer said. "She's on your side."
"She kept that secret from me for 10 years."
"Maybe part of you will never let that go," Aria acknowledged. "But she's always going to be in your corner even if you don't want her to be. Parents can be just as stupid as us, if not more. They've just had more time to master hiding it."
A smile crept over Alison's face at how blunt her friend could be.
Aria's text tone sounded and she glanced at her phone. "That's Ezra. I have to go see what quote he's whining about now." She pulled the blonde into a hug and gave her a tight squeeze. "Your mom wants to be the person you need. Give her a chance to show you."
Alison said her goodbyes to Aria and shut the front door. Emily led her to the living room sofa and draped the fuzzy throw over them. They sat facing each other, leaning with their arms propped up on the back of the couch.
The blonde's hold on the swimmer's hand remained a tight grip, even as her body began to sag under the weight of her breakdown. Emily chuckled at how adorable Alison's yawn was. These days were taxing in every way so there had been a lot of them.
Alison didn't like to let herself fall asleep before the brunette. She hated knowing that there was always a possibility that the next time she opened her eyes, Emily wouldn't be there.
Emily tilted her head, "What?"
Alison hesitated, "Can you stay here with me tonight?"
"Yeah," the swimmer smiled softly. "Let me run home and get a few things and then I'll be right back, okay?" She leaned in and pecked the blonde.
"Mhmm," Alison hummed sleepily, letting her eyes flutter closed now that she knew Emily was coming back. "I do have to let my mom in." She pulled the blanket up to her neck. "You're going to let your dad back in."
Emily smirked to herself, "Eventually," she whispered.
# # #
The sound of glass crunching jerked Alison's body out of sleep 20 minutes later. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and jumped slightly when she saw Jason coming in from the kitchen.
"Hey," Jason greeted the startled blonde holding her hand to her chest. "Long day?"
Alison scoffed, "One of many." She pulled out her phone to shoot a quick text to Emily. "What are you doing here?"
Jason crossed into the living room and sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her.
Alison saw the concerned look on his face and knew what was coming. She wasn't expecting to have to explain herself this soon.
"Ali, what happened upstairs?"
"Jason…"
"Don't you dare lie to me," he warned. "Okay? I just filled 2 garbage bags with 90% of your mirror, half of the crap from your vanity, and part of your wall."
"I just…" both their eyes traveled down to the blood stained gauze wrapped around her hand. "I came home, I was angry with myself and I couldn't control what I was doing."
"You were angry with yourself so you demolished your room?"
"God, I don't need you to make me feel worse about it than I already do."
"I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I'm trying to understand. I don't think there's anything that you could ever do that would be worth hurting yourself—"
"It's not like this is the first time I've hurt myself, Jason!" Alison snapped and immediately regretted it. She hoped what she said would be taken as hurt in general, but the destroyed look on her brother's face told her that he caught the implication.
Jason glanced up and Alison turned around to her mother staring at her, ruined by what she had just heard.
The blonde turned back around and ducked her head, leaning forward and cupping the back of her neck with her hands. "This is not how you were supposed to find out." She stared at the floor, eyes locked on Jason's shoes. She felt the couch dip next to her and her heart began to beat out of her chest.
"Alison, sweetie," Jessica hedged, "what did you mean this wasn't the first time."
Alison lifted her head slowly, "You don't need me to spell it out for you." She made eye contact with Jessica. "And I don't really think you want me to."
"How long has this been happening?"
"It doesn't matter, I haven't cut for a month," the blonde tried to sate her mother's apprehension.
Jessica flinched at hearing her daughter's methods and reached for her phone. "We have to tell the doctors about this."
"No!" Alison grabbed her mother's wrist in a panic. The pounding in her chest, and sitting up from her nap too fast, created a nauseating throbbing against her eardrums. "They can't know! They'll put me back in inpatient!"
"How am I supposed to know that you won't cut again? You just told Jason you couldn't control what you did."
"Because I promised Emily," she willed her mother to believe that she wasn't that kind of danger to herself anymore.
"Emily knows?" She wasn't sure why she asked. Of course Emily knew.
Alison only interacted with Jessica long enough to exchange half-hearted pleasantries, as if she were running into an old friend after 10 years. She thought that Alison had forgiven her when she hugged her during discharge, but she was starting to get the feeling that maybe she never would. Not completely.
"Mom, if you tell the doctors it's only gonna make it worse." She saw flashes of the bank sign and remembered what it felt like to cry herself to sleep that first night. Somewhere in her head she knew that her mother loved her, but that didn't stop her from feeling like she had been thrown away. "I can't go back…" Like she was the experiment that went wrong. "I won't come home again if I go back." Alison's voice cracked as the tears from that night sprang to her eyes. "Please don't send me away again."
Jessica hoped Alison couldn't see her tears through her own. When she called the ambulance to take Alison for emergency intake, it was because she didn't know what else to do. If she had just let her continue to stay home, Dalton would have called child services. She didn't think she had a choice, and maybe she didn't. But now she could see that the hospitalization damaged her in irreparable ways that she would never be able to understand.
She put her phone away and put her hand on Alison's leg. "Okay," she nodded. The blonde let go of her wrist. "There's no manual for this, Alison, but I am here for you. I always have been. All you have to do is tell me what you need and I will always try to find a way to make it happen. Always."
Alison sniffled and allowed her mother to hug her for the first time since she was discharged from 21 West. "Aria said you'd always be there even if I didn't want you to be."
A loving smile took over Jessica's face and she placed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, "Sweetie, where do you think you get your hardheadedness from?"
Alison's phone went off and she instantly recognized the swimmer's ringtone. "It's Emily," she fumbled for the device. "I'll call her back in a minute."
Jessica smoothed the back of Alison's hair, "I'll leave you to it."
Jason silently moved from the coffee table and replaced Jessica on the couch, unsure of how to carry on a conversation after that. He didn't actually know if Alison wanted him there right now, but sometimes his presence was all she needed. She was really the only reason he came back to visit. He felt guilty that when she needed him most, he wasn't there.
Alison took a deep breath. "You didn't have to clean all that up," she said apologetically. "I would have done it when I woke up."
"I know, I wanted to. My little sister was hurting."
"More than after you watched The Brave Little Toaster," Alison said, letting her impeccable sardonicism show.
"My emotional response was completely healthy," he contended lightly. "That movie was a tearjerker."
"Mhmm," Alison smirked. She took great pleasure in reminding Jason that the first time she saw him cry was because of a sad toaster.
"And hey, I'm not saying you should make a habit out of this, but next time, break that ugly bowl in the dining room that Mom won't get rid of," he teased, nudging his sister's shoulder, causing her to playfully roll her eyes.
It felt good to know that she and Jason could still fall into their old banter. She tapped Emily's name and pressed the phone to her ear, smiling when she heard the brunette pick up.
"Ali?" Emily's voice pattered through the speaker. "I'll be there soon. Are you okay?"
Alison smiled into the phone at her girlfriend's concern. She could imagine the cute thing the brunette did with her eyebrows when she was worried. "I'm fine, baby."
"I thought her name was Emily," Jason cracked.
Alison rolled her eyes again and whacked him in the chest with her non-injured hand.
"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his chest. "No more picking fights with emotionally disturbed sisters."
# # #
Emily put away the few groceries for her mother that extended her little trip home and jogged up the stairs, past her parents' bedroom.
"Emmy, is that you?" her father's voice called out.
She cringed and paced back a few steps. Things hadn't gotten any less awkward between them since she blew up at him at dinner. Other than the basic salutations, she hadn't really talked to her father—not the way she'd hoped she would when he got back.
"I'm just picking up a few things. I'm staying at Ali's tonight."
"Is she alright?"
Emily puffed her cheeks out as she exhaled, "I don't know." She saw another question about to leave his mouth and started toward her room again before he could ask it.
She sorted through her drawers, packing a change of clothes for the next day and changing into sleep shorts and a tank top. It was 35 degrees outside, but she would just be cold for the few seconds it took to run to and from her car. She reached for her phone charger, but remembered that she bought an extra to leave in each of their rooms. They learned their lesson from having to live with bricks in their pockets the day after spending the night at the other's house.
When she was done, she hiked her bag over her shoulder and made her way out. The sound of a book's page turning reminded her of her father's presence. She slowed her steps as she approached the bedroom door, contemplating going in and having the talk that was so blatantly inevitable that Alison could point it out while slipping in and out of consciousness. Avoiding him like the plague might have been hurtful, but she couldn't see a way to easily break through the wall that had seemingly erected out of nowhere.
There wasn't an easy way. This had gone on long enough and she was tired of waiting for one of them to bite the bullet.
"Dad?" she stepped into the doorway.
Wayne put his book down, "Yes, baby?"
"Um…" She stood nervously in the doorway, shifting on her feet, cursing herself for not planning something out before starting this conversation. "Uh…Mona's back at school. That girl I told you about from inpatient. Like you said, therapy and the right meds and she'd be ready to re-join society." She wanted an easy in to this talk, but did she really just say the most irrelevant thing she could think of?
Wayne nodded in understanding, patting Pam's side of the mattress.
Emily reluctantly uncrossed her arms and dropped her shoulders as she made her way over to the bed. She sat crosslegged with her back against the headboard and let Wayne pull the duvet up.
"You didn't come in here to talk about Mona, Emmy," Wayne said, conversant with his daughter's tactics for dodging conversations like this.
Emily looked down and fidgeted with her fingers. "I came in because…" She squeeze and pulled each knuckle until she heard it realign, something she learned from her physical therapist after the shoulder injury.
"Because what?" he pushed gently.
"Not talking…isn't working."
"I know how hard things have been for you—"
"No you don't," Emily quickly opposed in a half-sneer, half-frown. "You don't know anything about me anymore."
"What?" Wayne chuckled, dismissing the absurd statement. "You're Emily Fields, my little girl. I'd know you anywhere. I've got a picture of you in my wallet."
"I'm 8 years old in that picture," Emily tried to reason. "I'm not that innocent, sweet little girl anymore. I'm not. I can't be."
"It's the same girl. It just needs a new picture."
"You saw what I did at dinner the other week." Emily grimaced and clenched her fists in frustration, but did her best to stay calm. "I didn't even know I had picked it up until she told me to put it down."
Wayne realized she was talking about Nate. "Emmy."
"I killed someone," Emily painfully let out, her voice shaky. She hated saying it out loud. The way it made her feel like she needed to run to the bathroom to clean blood off her hands. The way the words clawed their way out of the pit of her stomach and burned a trail up her throat, making her feel like she had to vomit every time she said it. Everything about it felt wrong.
"You and your mother were attacked."
"Someone had a life. Someone was a living, breathing person, and I…" Emily's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to say it again.
"You killed someone," he reaffirmed. Though he never wanted her to join the army, he used to wonder how his daughter would manage. Emily had an inner beast, an inner fire, ready to go up in a blaze if she needed to defend herself or someone she loved. She had the forthrightness and discipline of a good soldier, and if not for her botched rotator cuff, the athleticism for close-quarters combat.
Wayne had no doubt that, if it came down to it, she would be able to pull the trigger, but Emily inherited Pam's wholeheartedness and overactive conscience. These were not bad characteristics by any means, Wayne loved that in the two women he held closest to his heart, but it was these traits that led him to believe Emily wouldn't fare well in a branch of the military that required extinguishing a life. Now, watching the guilt eating his daughter alive, he had obviously been right.
"I know he was going to hurt Mom. In my head, I know. But then I close my eyes and I can still see myself…holding that knife…"
It pained Wayne to hear his daughter speaking like this, exactly like some of his army buddies, able to describe every haunting detail they were hung up on like it was yesterday.
"And I can still feel what it felt like when it…"
He noticed her scrunching up the edge of the duvet and brought her into his arms, "My brave soldier."
"I'm not fighting for the country."
"No, but you're gonna change the world someday. Your mother and I both know it. Alison definitely does," he chuckled and then paused. "I don't wanna be a source of pain for you, Emmy. I wanna be your dad. It's your war, your command." Wayne placed a kiss to Emily's temple, "Just lead me through and I'll follow."
She nodded against his chest that boomed with his soothing deep voice. She registered the analogy he'd used and pulled back. "How did you know about the war thing?"
"Alison may have said something to me last week," Wayne admitted.
"Of course she did," Emily said, a delighted smile spreading across her lips.
"She's…charming," he considered his words for a moment. "And intimidating."
"She said the same thing about you." Alison and Wayne were more alike than they realized—protective, sharp, and frighteningly intimidating. Granted, Wayne liked to be more upfront, and Alison could take people's heads for a spin without even trying, though she didn't have much energy for it lately.
"She also called you her Mermaid," Wayne smirked, remembering the times he would call Emily that when she was a little girl. "She said she wishes she could have seen you swim and that if she has anything to say about it, she will."
Emily sighed. Even Alison's love was stubborn.
"That girl loves you, Emmy," Wayne said almost disbelievingly, sensing her discomfort and changing the subject. He was blown away by Alison's love for Emily, not by the fact that it existed, but by its depth and sheer endlessness.
Emily smiled. "That girl is my heart."
"Go," Wayne nodded to the door, smiling back and lightly pinching her cheek, "I know she's waiting for you."
# # #
"Emily, dear," Jessica greeted sweetly as she put on her coat, "I told you, you don't have to ring the doorbell. You're always welcome here."
Emily smiled politely, "Hi, Ms. D."
"Alison went upstairs," Jessica adjusted her hair. "I'm working late tonight and Jason had to go back up to Syracuse, he'll be back in a few days," she said searching for her keys, getting ready to leave. "She wasn't hungry or willing to talk much when I asked, but see if you can get her to eat something. I don't think she's in the mood to cook, so I left some money on the counter for takeout."
Emily cordially agreed for the sake of not holding up the rushed woman and moved to the side to let her out of the house. Alison was more stubborn than her and she would not eat anything if she wasn't hungry.
She made her way up the stairs and stopped when she didn't see any light coming from under the door. She opened it quietly in case the blonde was sleeping and found her staring at the hole she had punched in the wall. Closing the door behind her, she locked it as gently as possible so she didn't startle Alison. "Hey."
The blonde turned around and padded over to her, smiling softly as she took the swimmer's bag and set it down before bringing her arms around her neck.
"I can help you fix that wall," Emily offered.
"You certainly aren't diminishing the lesbian stereotype." Alison got on her toes and pressed her lips to Emily's, now barefoot with no heel or wedge to make up the height difference.
"Maybe it'll show a little less when I become a lumberjack in the glorious mountains of Montana."
Alison tilted her head from side to side, "You do wear a lot of flannels."
"You love my flannels," Emily defended in a playful whine.
"I do,"Alison chuckled against the brunette's lips and lowered her heels back down to the floor.
Emily inspected the blonde's face, frowning slightly. "You've been crying again."
Alison nodded slowly. "I told my mom and Jason about the uh…the cutting."
Emily squeezed Alison's hip, shocked that she had told both of them, but happy that they finally knew. "I thought you would have started with Jason."
"I would have," the blonde agreed. "He was always easier to talk to."
No matter what she did, Jason made it a priority to treat her like she could never disappoint him. She needed to get unconditional love from somewhere and it wasn't going to come from Kenneth. Of course there was Jessica, but she was usually too caught up in trying to figure out why her marriage was sinking. Even as a little boy, Jason would try to stay home from school because he felt like he had to take care of his baby sister. Kenneth's neglect forced him to grow up quickly, for no one other than Alison.
"I didn't actually mean to tell either of them. Jason was asking me what happened in here after he cleaned up all the glass—he's probably the reason why that mirror from the bathroom is sitting there," she pointed to her vanity, "I ended up blurting it out to him. She just happened to walk in when it got good," the blonde said facetiously.
"What did she say?"
"Well, she almost called the doctors to have me sent back to inpatient."
"What?" Emily's eyes widened at the thought of Alison being hauled off again. "You talked her out of it?"
"I told her I made a promise to you," Alison confessed.
"Why did that stop her?"
Alison smiled at the endearing confusion furrowed at Emily's brow. "Because I break promises to myself. I can't break promises to you," Alison said honestly. The brunette smiled back at her and she placed another kiss to her girlfriend's soft lips. "Let me get changed," she slipped out of Emily's arms and went over to her closet. "What took you so long?" she asked.
Emily put her shoes to the side and plopped herself down on the bed, resting her back against the headboard and absentmindedly tracing the buttons of the old-timey phone on the side table. "I had to pick up groceries for my mom and then I had a weird talk with my dad." The swimmer looked over at Alison who was standing in front of the open wardrobe, trying to remember what she had opened it for. "PJs," she prompted.
"Ah," the blonde remembered. "Thanks. Good weird or bad weird?" Alison asked, rummaging through the bottom of her closet, fishing out a tank top and the Sharks sweatpants.
"I don't know," the brunette shrugged. "Both? He called me a soldier," Emily said quizzically.
Alison closed the closet doors and carried the sweats and tank top across the room, setting them down on the dressing table. "Aren't you?" the blonde queried, unbuttoning her cardigan.
"It's hard to see it that way right now."
"So just a mermaid then?" Alison joked lightly, pulling her top over her head.
"No." The brunette didn't foresee the conversation going this way, but the answer was out before she had time to think.
"Since when?"
Emily sat up, looking down and playing with her fingers. "Since I can't swim." All of the trophies and medals she had ever won were crammed in a box and stored in the attic. After she tore her rotator cuff, she made her mom remove almost everything pool related from her room, only keeping a few things like the swim apparel tucked away in her drawers.
"That tattoo on your neck begs to differ," Alison stated as she stepped out of her jeans. "Isn't that why you got it?"
Emily didn't answer, sucking in and biting her bottom lip as she tried to keep the tears at bay. The reminders of her success became too painful to look at every day, eventually becoming reminders of loss. And God, would it make her sick if this damn tattoo became one of them.
Alison turned around, frowning at the sight of tears brimming in the swimmer's eyes. She slipped out of her bra as she walked over to the bed and used her knee to hoist herself onto the mattress to straddle Emily.
The brunette moved her hands out of the way, instinctively resting them on Alison's hips. Her eyes traveled up from the waistband of the blonde's panties, to her supple breasts, and finally to her cerulean blue orbs. Emily sighed up at her girlfriend, "What are you doing?"
Alison kissed the corner of Emily's mouth, letting her hands roam over her shoulders until her arms were wrapped around the brunette. She ducked her head down into the crook of Emily's neck, and pressed her lips to the tattoo that adorned the olive skin.
"You're going to swim again."
"Ali," Emily croaked. She stammered her words out, taken back by the sudden rasp in her voice. "I told you, that's not…even if I could…"
"We'll find a way to get you back in the water," the blonde murmured.
Emily couldn't protest, pulling Alison closer and splaying her fingers as she ran them over the blonde's back, wrapping her other arm completely around Alison's waist to grip the side of her hip. She rested her head against the blonde's collar bone and allowed the gated tears to fall.
Alison bridled a whimper for Emily, feeling the droplets skim down the side of her breast and down her rib cage, finally understanding how much not being able to swim was hurting her. "You're going to swim again, Mermaid," she reiterated. "I promise."
Neither girl knew how long they stayed like this, Alison lost in the warmth of Emily's hands running up and down the length of her back, Emily breathing her in, absorbed in the feeling of having Alison so open and gentle.
Alison pulled away to place a tender kiss to the swimmer's lips. When Emily lightly scratched the small of her back, what she thought was supposed to be the most innocent of touches sent heat straight to her core and had her arching herself into the brunette. "Em," she dug her nails into the nape of Emily's neck.
The brunette captured Alison's lips again as her hand moved to her breasts, her fingers flitting over the tip of the nipple, massaging it to a tender peak, while the others raked down her abdomen, down to the heat radiating through her black panties.
The blonde shifted so she could get up to take them off, but the swimmer held her in place. "I'll buy you new ones," she whispered. Not giving Alison any time to respond, she made two quick tears to the fabric and threw the ripped garment across the room, eliciting a gasp from the blonde as the cool air hit her aching flesh.
Alison tugged at the hem of Emily's top, assisting her in pulling it over her head and throwing it to the floor where it joined her now shredded panties. The brunette fumbled with the clasp of her bra for a bit, growling in frustration until Alison took pity on her and reached around to release the stubborn catch.
Emily heaved a sigh of relief and reveled in the feeling of Alison's bare chest pressed to hers. The blonde let out a breathy moan at the skin to skin contact, her lips gently caressing the brunette's, their tongues occasionally slipping past into the other's mouth.
Alison felt Emily run a fingertip through her wet folds and she bit her bottom lip. "Em," she breathed. Her eyes fluttered closed as she lowered herself onto the swimmer's nimble fingers.
The brunette guided her hips forward, building a slow and steady rhythm, each of her breaths growing heavier than the last.
Emily expertly circled Alison's clit with her thumb, easily finding her sweet spot with every thrust into her dripping center. A familiar pressure started to build and Emily could feel Alison tightening around her fingers. She reached a hand up to thread her fingers through Alison's hair, pulling the blonde's plump lips to her own.
The blonde let out a muffled moan into Emily's mouth and looked down as she rocked her hips in tandem with Emily, watching the brunette's coated fingers slowly pump in and out of her.
"Em…" Alison moaned Emily's name, her mumbling too incoherent for Emily to understand anything else.
She dropped her head down to Emily's shoulder as the brunette continued to work her sensitive nub, her walls now clenching around her doting fingers. Her breaths came in small gasps against Emily's neck as the slow waves of ecstasy began to roll through her body.
Emily eased her pace, maintaining a gentle rhythm in Alison until the pulsing between her legs subsided. Her fingers flexed over Alison's curves, warming every spot she touched, making them forget about how cold it was. She still couldn't believe the way the blonde melted under every stroke, graze, and grope.
She listened to Alison's breathing as it gradually evened out, her forehead resting between the blonde's breasts. A slight gasp escaped Alison's lips as wet fingertips slick with her arousal brushed over her scars. "So beautiful," Emily said softly, and she could've sworn Alison's heart skipped a beat.
That never got old, no matter how many times she heard the brunette say it. "Your eyes aren't even open."
Emily placed a kiss between the soft swells, "I don't need to see it to believe it."
Alison's entire body shuddered at the touch of the brunette's lips and she held Emily's neck tighter to steady herself. She leaned down and pressed her lips to the brunette's, gazing down at her girl with a loving smile.
"Come here," she whispered, lazily moving off of Emily's lap and pulling the brunette down with her. She kicked the linens slightly and pulled the comforter up, creating a vessel of warmth from their bodies in the middle of the crisp air that filled her room. Alison lay on her back, taking in the divine goddess hovering over her.
"What would I do without you here?" The swimmer breathed, taking soft sips of the creamy skin as she settled herself half on top of the blonde.
Alison ran her fingers through Emily's hair and lightly scratched her scalp, "Probably never sleep." The brunette hummed out a chuckle, her warm breath tickling the girl beneath her as it grazed over her chest.
Alison cupped the side of Emily's jaw, allowing herself to indulge in the pleasure of having her girl's weight on her, gently caressing Emily's damp cheek as she showered her face with light kisses.
She counted Emily's breaths to sleep, certain that she would be up all night too if the brunette wasn't there.