11. On the Mend

My drug was different,

Bonds, empty promises, and cheap love.

And I can't go back through that rabbit hole,

It isn't real,

Just like water in a desert,

It was a mirage,

I fell for it

And died.

The first thing that Layla thought as she woke the next morning was to locate the bathroom. The unfamiliar setting played tricks on her hazed mind, but what mattered the most was finding that blasted toilet. Layla gingerly sat up and instantly regretted it as she grasped her pounding head then tasted the bile gathering in the back of her throat and swim forward toward the tip of her tongue. She scrambled out of the bed and raced to the closest door and thanked the gods that it was the bathroom. Her body jerked violently from the stomach as her body seemed to spasm as she vomited into the commode. Oddly she felt better but tried everything in a low gear. She looked around the brightly lit bathroom and remembered she was Sora's house for the remainder of the vacation. It was ok to be in the house but the shock of being in Sora's bed after such a night made her stomach drop. Her possible humiliation made Layla heave into the toilet over and over again until she was too tired to lift her body.

Sora woke to a bang and the sounds of a person sick or dying in her house, and she winced as she knew it was Layla in the bathroom ejecting the contents of her stomach. Sora got off the hard wood floor, cracking her back and neck on her way off the floor and stood in front of the painting and shook her head as she bent to get her coffee cup and headed to the kitchen for another pitcher of water and the BC tablets from the guest bathroom. Sora opened the door to reveal no one in the bed then set the water on the nightstand. Sora opened the door to her bathroom and found Layla curled up into a ball on the cool tiles of the floor. Sora shook her head and went to her.

Layla could not move a single muscle and her chest and throat burned. She was about to slip back to sleep, into a world of cool black, when she felt hands on her body turning her over. Once they got her on her back they went under her shoulders and knees. She felt the very strong arms lift her from the cold floor. Layla could not open her eyes to see who it was but knew it was Sora. She tried to bury her face into Sora's chest to hide her shame but only succeeded in blocking out the light. She felt the body against her gently pull away and she gasped at the cold air that streamed between them. Layla was thankful to be laying on something soft as Sora re-positioned her on the bed. She felt the covers come up over her hips and then two hands came to the sides of her face.

"Layla, open your eyes," requested Sora.

Layla wanted to try to open her eyes, see that smiling face but her lids were so heavy that they felt that they were glued shut. She tried once more and cracked her eyes then instantly snapped them shut as a piercing light set her eyes on fire, shooting bullets through her brain, and made her stomach do flips like it was on a rollercoaster.

"The sun… I don't want to."

Sora silently smiled as she remembered her first hangover, and got up to close the blinds then went back to the bed.

"Try it now, Princess."

Layla opened each eye separately but could not focus.

"You are blurry," Layla stated and Sora could not help but think she was adorable like this.

"It is because are dehydrated, worn out," she laughed while shoving a glass of water and two Aspirin in Layla's hands, "and hung over."

"Oh god this sucks."

Sora laughed and then fed Layla the BC power tablets and made her chase it with water.

"Other than hung over, how do you feel?"

"I feel like a bed of roses, how do you think I feel?" Layla snapped at the laughing Sora.

"Alright then, I will leave you alone. I'll check on you in about an hour. Take it easy, rest; this is, after all, my fault."

As Sora got off the bed Layla only closed her eyes and cursed herself. It was only after Sora turned back and playfully winked at her did Layla see the mask covering Sora's face. It was that happy-go-lucky mask that hid everything from every one but Layla. She knew Sora was taking the entire burden on herself but Layla had to admit that she did not expect to see such a convincing mask this time. She fell asleep trying to remember what happened.

The smell of eggs, bacon, and other fried foods wafted to Layla as she woke from dreams of hands on her body and lips on her neck. Her stomach seemed to lurch just a bit but she found she was alright. It was 11am. She felt it was time to get up out of these clothes, and into a shower. As the water seemed to beat Layla back to a half dead state she found herself slightly wounded. She could not remember what all happened last night but she had the sinking feeling she messed something up. Her hand clutched around her heart and found that it was beating faster than normal. She needed to apologize but she could not remember what she needed to say she was sorry about. She felt like a creep because Sora definitely knew something but would not tell her, even if it was wrong, she would still carry the guilt with her as her burden and hers alone. The rapid fire thoughts caused Layla to black out for a moment. When she opened her eyes she found her self looking at the ceiling and her head throbbing from where she made contact with the floor.

Sora floated around the kitchen getting breakfast ready dishing food onto plates when she heard a loud bang and a thud. She ran down the hall, into an empty bedroom. She heard the sound of the shower and cursed. Sora ran to the door flung it open to find Layla sprawled on the floor on her back trying to get back on her feet.

"Geez, babe, what is it with you and my bathroom floor?" she joked as she wrapped a towel around Layla and helped pull her up and sat her on the toilet lid. Sora turned around and got the bathrobe and put it around Layla as well adding a little more privacy for her. She looked or felt her way around Layla's head and felt the small lump just as Layla hissed.

"You will be fine but I am going to help you get your clothes on and get you to the kitchen," she said calmly and jovially.

"You know how much I really don't like you right now?" complained Layla as Sora fussed about bringing clothes and a brush out of nowhere.

"Oh, you love me, and you know it. It's not my fault you couldn't take a little wine, Princess."

"How are you not hung over? You drank way more than I did, right?"

"Up," Sora demanded of Layla's arms then, "there is no real drinking age in Europe and Asia." Her words cut off as the towel was secured around her waist so she didn't have to worry about embarrassing herself when it came to Layla's form. Layla put her hands up over her head and Sora shoved her arms through the T-shirt sleeves. By the quickness and preciseness of all of Sora's actions Layla wondered if Sora had to dress some one else before. Thoughts flipped upside down as the back of Sora's hand brushed against Layla's breast as she pulled the shirt over her torso.

"Sorry," murmured Sora then stood up and eyed Layla.

"What?"

"You can put your own pants on. Here you go." Sora politely looked at something on the other side of the room with her back to Layla.

"I am finished. You can turn around now."

Sora was looking at a very peculiar item on the dresser and then shoved it in her pocket. As she turned around she motioned for Layla to sit in the chair.

"Sit, kiddo, we need to brush that head of hair of yours."

Layla complied and found the chair. She was not used to this sort of treatment, this much attention, and was not sure how she felt about it.

"Tell me when it hurts."

Layla nodded when she saw Sora get behind her and start brushing her hair in long even strokes. Layla could not even feel the times Sora had to get the knots out and the longer she stayed where she was the more she felt a secret bliss.

"Ok, we are done. Let's go." Sora held out her elbow for Layla to clutch to as she stood to make the world stop spinning. Sora walked out of the door and to the kitchen making sure Layla was fine. When Layla saw the plates of food she felt her stomach flip over again. Sora grabbed her hand and motioned her to the stool.

"The quicker you eat it the better. Oh yeah, and this too." Sora placed a glass of red wine right in front of her and started eating as if nothing were wrong. Layla yanked up a fork and set to work on her food. She almost lost it once or twice as she saw Sora eating with gusto. She was not rude; her manners were impeccable as always, it was just eating that got to Layla. She put her fork down then Sora eyed her then nodded to the glass of wine.

"I am not drinking that," claimed Layla defiantly.

"Yes, you are," Sora said simply.

"No, I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

Sora cocked her head to the side then picked up the phone and dialed a number. She leaned up against the counter staring Layla squarely in the eyes not backing down.

"Hey, does a cure for a hang over consist of drinking what you drank last night?" There was laughter on the other end of the phone then Sora handed Layla the phone. "It's for you sweetheart. I'll do the dishes."

Sora took everything from the breakfast or was it lunch, away except for that glass of wine.

"Hello?"

"Layla, Love, drink the glass of wine."

"Sarah!?"

"Yeah, I think you should trust her on this one. I have a feeling she has been through this once or twice before."

Layla sighed, "What do you know about last night?" Layla desperately needed facts.

"What do you remember?"

Layla began to see that Sora and Sarah were going to make her figure this out on her own.

"I don't remember much," said Layla as she turned from the kitchen but did not go too far.

"Then it must not have been important."

"Then why do I feel like I did something really horrible? Like way out of bounds horrible?"

"Has Sora treated you any differently?"

"She seems like she has a lot on her mind or just inside of her own head."

"I really can't help you but if I were you I would really try to remember what you did last night."

"Hmm."

"Layla, drink the wine."

"Fine!"

"Give me back to your torturer."

"Here," said Layla giving the phone back to Sora.

"Thanks," Sora said taking the phone, "Don't eye it. Sometimes it is better just to chug it. Down the hatch."

Layla heard another bout of laughter on the other end of the phone and scowled. Picked up the glass, chugged it, then practically threw the glass at Sora's smiling face and went to lay down where there was a pillow.

"Thanks Sarah, I did not want an argument over a hang over."

"Not a problem. Sora she doesn't remember," Sarah said as if she were trying to break the news.

"I was afraid of that, but it's alright as long as I get to keep my friend."
"I'm still sorry honey."

"It's alright. We are co-workers after all. This might get weird."

"Love, it is already weird. Don't worry so much."

"You are right; anyways don't you have something for me?"

"Ah, yes. Kalos is sending you an email with the new script. He gave you a company email address, so you just go to the website; log on using your name as a username, and your birthday as the password. Talk to you soon?"

"Of course, thanks for your help. Bye."

Sora put the phone down and went to Layla on the couch; she was already asleep as if there was not a care in the world. Sora pulled a blanket over her from the back of the couch and kissed her forehead. She went to the sitting room and brought back Dante's Comedy and sat in the chair opposite Layla and watched over the sleeping angel. Before Sora knew it she too fell asleep with the book open on her chest.

The sun had fallen and the sky was marred by an onset of clouds. Layla woke to thunder but the rain had yet to fall. The blanket she found herself wrapped in fell to her abdomen as she shifted. Sora was nowhere to be found. Layla combed the house opening and closing doors then she came upon an empty room with drawings and paintings strewn about the walls. Layla entered and beheld the stage and various moments in flight, and hand positions on bars. She came to fine a picture of two hands clasping and memories came back to her. She made her way around then gasped at the painting on the easel. She was looking back at her self but something was different. The woman in the painting looked gorgeous, lustful, and passionate. The moonlight played on the woman's hair gave a golden glow about her as if she were an angel. If this was the way Sora saw her then she must be seeing a different person, maybe even a twin of Layla for she truly never felt the way the portrait of Layla looked. She shut her eyes and tried to remember what happened last night, and why her whole body became warm at the sight of this painting.

"You were not supposed to see that," toned Sora leaning in the door way causing Layla to jump. Sora was dressed in the usual black jogging pants and black t-shirt. She dropped a small pack at the door and walked toward Layla. Layla felt a sense, a pressure emanating from Sora as she stalked with a feline grace toward Layla. Sora had a look in her eyes that both captivated Layla but could also send her running for the hills as fast as her legs could carry her. Sora brushed past Layla to the closet and pulled a canvas cloth out and dropped it over the painting. Sora kept her eyes down and narrowed in a dangerous concentration. Sora went back to the door, picked up her pack and motioned for Layla to vacate the room. Layla stood momentarily torn between being defiant and proud, or complying with Sora's stern wishes. Sora stood there with her arm raised indicating the hallway like a valet. Layla exhaled and walked up to the door but the closer she got more raw pain oozed from Sora as if Layla unearthed a hidden secret. Sora's eyes seemed to have grown black as a hurricane filled sky. Layla slowly approached Sora and raised her hand to her cheek only to have Sora flinch away from her hand as if it burned her. Layla snatched her hand back and brought it to her chest.

"Are you angry with me?" asked a timid and mildly frightened Layla.

"No, not really," Sora replied evenly.

"Then what is wrong?" asked Layla inching into Sora's space knowing without a doubt that if she could get her to look into her eyes, to look through her, she and Sora would be fine. But as Layla inched even closer Sora turned her head to the side and tried to disregard Layla's advancement.

"What are you doing?" asked Sora's voice just above a whisper. Sora's heart was pounding and she was angry more with her self for not putting the painting away than with Layla intruding in her privacy. No matter how angry she was, she could not deny the basic fact that her body pulled and ached to be wrapped in the comfort that was Layla. Layla still kept a steady but slow advance to Sora.

"Are you angry with me?" Layla asked a second time. Everything Layla did she did on instinct, a pure drive to bring Sora, her Talia, back to her in their world where everything else was but a whisper on the wind, and all that remained were the two of them.

"Stop," Sora commanded. Sora could not let Layla run everything especially when she had no recollection of the night before, and how she made Sora feel.

"Layla," Sora whispered painfully as she let a hot tear slide down her cheek only to fall to the floor.

"What's the matter?" asked Layla slowly bringing her hand up to take the next rolling drop from her tanned cheek. Then Sora's hand shot out startling her and stopping her.

"You can't do that, not right now."

"Why? Why can I not care enough to take away your tears? Why can I not be let through your doors?"

Sora looked at Layla and a wall of air slammed into Layla's chest, suffocating her. The air in her lungs ripped from her chest and felt a trail of hot pain in its wake of such loss. Sora's eyes were black as a moon filled night but as warm as the sun. She was aching from pain that was almost unbearable and when Layla stretched her fingers in Sora's grasp she caressed the line of her jaw. She saw raw obsidian, power, magic, and…desire in her eyes. It was at that moment that she knew that every time she touched Sora she sent her into and unknown realm of need and want.

Sora almost leaned into her touch, but reluctantly lowered Layla's hand to their side. That time was due to Sora's heart that she could not let Layla into. She would die for Layla, but would not, could not give her heart so foolishly to a woman who could not know or understand what she wanted. Sora visibly relaxed and let her eyes focus on Layla. The caring and concerned Layla that cared so deeply for Sora stood before her, but she did not know what she did. There were no masks, no fake smiles, just a passing current of chemistry that enveloped both women. Sora took her hand and fingered a lock of Layla's hair and swept it back behind Layla's ear and rested her hand on her shoulder.

"I am not angry," Sora said softly.

"Are you sure?" asked Layla worried.

"Yes, it is just I do not usually let people see them. That one in particular."

"I see," said Layla.

Sora picked up her pack and ran her hand through her black hair and motioned for Layla to get out. Layla walked through the doorway and then walked with Sora to the sitting room. Sora sank into the leather chair and put her hands to her face. She looked to find Layla sitting on the matching leather sofa on the other side of the room wrapped in that blanket as if it were protective layering.

"That was from last night," Layla stated instead of asked regarding the painting.

"Yes, it was a beautiful moment."

"Is that how you see me, beautiful, passionate, and lively?"

"Layla," Sora said in a warning growl.

"Just answer, Sora," Layla quietly interrupted as she looked to her hands.

Sora stood and looked out of the window as she crossed her arms over her chest. The clouds rolled and the whitest strike of lightning struck the turbulent sea impaling the silky darkness with a force indescribable by human words. Layla jumped when she heard Sora speak.

"No, that is not the way I see you." Sora walked to the door of this room, picked up her pack then looked to Layla. She had a confused and defeated look on her face. She looked hurt and angry. "I see you as so much more."

"What happened last night?" asked Layla as Sora slid open the door.

"You really don't remember?" she asked into the dark facing away from Layla.

"No, I don't."

Sora snapped her head back to look at Layla, to let her know she saw her, knew her better than anyone. "Don't worry about it. That painting is unimportant, and the events of last night were just as unimportant if not forgettable."

Then Sora went out into the dark smattering rain leaving Layla to question the acute pain in her own chest at those words from Sora's lips.

Sora ran and she knew it was from Layla, the only person that felt right in everything that they did together. The way Layla looked at Sora for weeks could now only be explained by Layla's confusion and her inability to comprehend the gravity of being around her. Sora practically flew down the steps of the cliff face. Her legs carried her farther and farther down the beach, her feet sinking into the cold wet sand. It left her feeling gritty and course. Sora laughed at the irony of that thought. She was course with Layla to the point she almost shoved her out the door but Sora wanted her with her. The rain pelted Sora in the face and stung her hot sweaty cheeks. After she ran her legs off in one direction she came to a slow stop. She had no idea about how far she ran, but no matter the distance the ghost of Layla remained with her, lingered on her skin. She slammed her eyes closed and lashed out at invisible foes, some her inner demons, some were self, and some her figments of Layla and thoughts of dreams that for once could be possible. Then she shot off sprinting back toward the house at breakneck speed. There was nothing, no pain, no breath, no peace for Sora. It was just the agonizing torment of having in your hands the one thing you truly craved to posses only to watch it turn to water and slip through your fingers. She screamed at the wind, and lashed out at the rain as she came to the cliff steps. She collapsed holding her injured side feeling emptiness settle in her chest but this emptiness she chose. Layla could not want her, love her. She was a demon playing an angel, it was impossible. The thoughts of a broken fool spun a web of doubt through her mind and reached her heart. Sora thought back and tried to remember how many times she shoved Layla away from her only to find the true angel still there waiting with arms wide open. There answers Sora found were like a sharp dagger to her own heart, a dagger she plunged into her own chest. Her time of self-loathing and pity had come to an end, and it was time she let everything go and be reborn like a phoenix from their ashes. She wanted to truly live and almost cried at the thought. Still unsatisfied and with energy to burn she shed her clothes and jumped into the salty foam of the surf. When she popped up from the surface she swam until she hurt, then fought the tide back to the beach. She let the salt purify her body, the exhaustion purified her spirit, now she took the choice and made one that could purify her soul, but only if she will have her.

Layla wanted to call out to Sora, chase after her, but something deep inside screamed for her to leave her to her own devices. Layla, finished with crying, finished with self-pity, let the girl fly from the room, let her fly from her. Layla took another shower and under the steam she decided not to be angry but to be understanding. Her friendship with Sora had progressed far beyond any typical friendship and into something deeper, as if they were tied together by an invisible thread that the fates govern. She got out of the shower, dried off, then slipped into Sora's pajamas. As she buttoned up the shirt she raised it to her face and breathed in the soft sweet smell that was distinctly Sora. She brushed out her hair and blew it dry. Only an hour later she settled into the bed and tried to make her thoughts stop. She turned to her right side facing the wall then the door opened and the smell of salty ocean filtered into the air. Sora slowly closed the door to keep from disturbing Layla and limped to the bathroom holding her side. Layla fought the urge to help her. She heard the shower turn on and hoped that Sora was alright. Layla imagined Sora under the water, and then the heat from her cheeks traveled and settled in the pit of her stomach. Layla tried hard to quiet her mind but she caught a glimpse of Sora's naked body as she exited the bathroom after an incredibly fast shower, and almost whimpered at the fascinating feelings that almost erupted from her. She kept her face to the wall and listened to all of the quiet sounds and shuffling. Then the bedroom door opened and Sora went out and closed the door behind her. Layla's body relaxed but she could not neglect the fact that she was disappointed, that she felt a loss blanket her and made her shiver. Then there was a depression on the bed and warm strong arms came around her tightly surprising her. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not hear the door open and close. Those arms embraced her tighter still, and Layla's breathing quickened as Sora pressed her breasts to her back and molded her body to fit Layla's. After a few moments of trying to calm her breathing, Layla heard those words whispered into her ear that became the moment she cared for Sora those weeks ago.

"I will not drop you. I will catch you and you will never fall if you are flying into my arms." It was whispered right above her ear and the wisps of breath that caressed her lobe made her shiver and close her eyes. Sora's arms tightened around Layla's waist protectively, possessively, and, most of all, lovingly as they lay together. Layla exhaled and let her body relax into Sora's seeking safe warmth in a world that did not seen quite real.

"I am so sorry, Layla," whispered Sora into Layla's hair. Layla laid her arms over Sora's across her abdomen and stayed like that giving what she could to the one person who has asked nothing of her but her trust.