Chapter's title comes from "This is why I need you" by Jesse Ruben.
More Ballie fluff and angst.
Chapter 14: Love is the what
Revenge.
It is an entity of its own, older than humanity itself, born from the union of the darkest hatred and the vilest sense of injustice.
It is powerful and ruthless, cruel and cold, impulsive and flawed and tragically human. It brainwashes everyone, kids, teenagers, adults from all over the world, and tricks them into thinking that their lives will be cured of all wrongfulness if they just take what they deserve.
It sings a wicked song that enchants its listeners and makes them believe that the dead will come back to the land of the living, and that the balance of the world will be fixed if they choose war over forgiveness.
Revenge is a sweet, delicious promise that lure people into its arms, only to choke and suffocate them.
An eye for an eye, the tempting law of retaliation, the kingdom of revenge is the one to cross to reach the door leading to paradise. Everyone forgets about the countless poisonous thorns scattered all over the entrance. Everyone believes that those thorns are mere accessories created to scare the weak, those poor human beings who are not fierce enough to fight for themselves.
Revenge has always been her motivation.
When she was beaten and left for dead, when she was raped and tortured, all she'd thought about was the one day she'd make them pay for all of this. It was what had kept her going, the knowledge that someday, she'd stand above them and watch fear exists in their eyes.
When she'd met Kaz, when she'd earned her place within the Red Right Hand, she'd tasted freedom, tasted justice for the very first time. Real justice, not its foolish twin made by the imperfect societal laws. Gone were the feelings of inferiorities and the everlasting sorrows that characterized her life.
She had felt at the top of the world, like finally, finally something was fair. Finally, she was getting fair value for all the shit that had rained on her during the past years of her life.
And as she stares at the empty garage while the smell of gasoline still irritates her throat, she starts feeling sick, a kind of sickness that isn't born from a virus or a bacteria.
She closes her eyes, and her world turns black, only for her imagination to play tricks on her.
She imagines a house with locked doors and an inferno burning in its garage. She imagines the hungry flames peaking from the smallest opening between the garage door and the hard road, and she thinks she hears the sparks devouring everything that stands in their way. She imagines a solitary shadow moving frantically behind the curtains, counting down the seconds to his life.
She opens her eyes as the extremely real flame starts burning her fingers and something new is creating fireworks within her.
As powerful as revenge, as destructive as it is.
Regrets.
Fuck.
She blows the flame in a quick exhale and runs away as fast as she can, jumping over the obstacles and dashing from one intersection to another. She runs with the imaginary memory of the sound the match made when she'd dropped it to the floor. She runs with the imaginary heat from the sudden burst of flames licking her face. She runs with the imaginary shades of orange and yellow engraved in her mind.
She runs with the fear that someone is going to catch her and realizes what she's done.
What she's almost done.
She runs until her legs are trembling under her weight and her lungs are crying under her skin. She runs until Harry's house is so far away that she doesn't quite recognize the streets anymore. She runs until all she can hear are crickets and the sweet gush of warm air surrounding her.
Regrets are her sworn enemies.
Enemies that threaten to make her feel things she doesn't want to feel, like fear and doubt and guilt, things that could have killed her when she lived in the streets and sold her body for money. Never in years had she allowed herself to have regrets, and maybe that had been the key to her survival.
Revenge used to make her feel better. It used to be the only antidote to the perpetual pain she was victim of. If she could inflict pain to her abusers, then she'd have a reason to live. She'd naively thought that it would remain the same, that even today, revenge in Bea's name would feel like a blessing.
She'd been wrong.
Now there is Bea, who taught her to love when she wanted to hate, and to forgive when she wanted to murder. Bea, who taught her to laugh when she was overwhelmed with sadness, and to care for her life in a way she never had before. Bea, who would probably look at her with so much disappointment in her eyes if she learned the truth.
Bea, whose memory is causing Allie to have those damn regrets in the first place, and Allie wants to dismiss her existence but she can't, she never will.
Bea, who was still on the receiving end of a death threat, and Allie thinks that for that reason alone, her plan was justified.
The feeling is gone within seconds.
Harry isn't her fight, she realizes dreadfully. If it were, maybe it'd be easier. Maybe it'd be less frustrating for her and a little simpler to deal with. But it's not, and all she can do is watch and wait, and it's most painful part because she wants so badly for him to pay for his crimes.
To pay for making Bea believe that she wasn't worthy of love.
The thought of getting a fix briefly crosses her mind, like it always does when she's feeling anxious and out of place. Maybe forgetting her own existence will make her forget that she'd almost crossed the fragile line between right and wrong. She breathes harder as she comes to a stop, in front of Bea's apartment.
She could keep going, straight ahead and then a left, two right, and straight ahead for a mere two kilometers. There, she'd find an abandoned building, with dealers ready to sell gear in exchange for money and a part of her soul. She's well known, and there's no doubt that they would let her in without questioning her whereabouts. If anything, they'd just cheer for her, happy to have a loyal client back.
She could keep going and follow the road that she will never forget no matter how hard she tries to.
Or she could walk in the apartment and pretend like this night never existed.
She hates that, no matter how's long it's been, and how much better she's doing, the idea of taking drugs still visits her now and then, especially in her vulnerable moments. She can't fully accept that it's something she'll have to live with for the rest of her life. Something she wants, something she believes she needs, that might destroy her life if she ever fails at resisting temptation.
She won't take drugs, she sings in her head like the chorus of her favorite song. She walks into the apartment and stays immobile for a few minutes, welcoming the darkness.
The soft sounds of the imaginary firetruck's sirens guide her through the night, along with the harsh clanks of the imaginary prison bars locking her in.
One week flies by, during which Allie pretends that her life isn't spiralling out of control whenever she talks with Bea. If Bea senses that something is wrong, she has the decency not to ask and Allie finds it harder to lie with every passing minute.
She should have focused more on the after of it all because there's only so long she can live with this heavy burden on her shoulders, and she can feel her spine bending under the weight. She knows Bea doesn't know about the plan. Bea would have mentioned it otherwise, but by some kind of miraculous divine gesture, Bea has been left in the dark by Harry.
Harry, who must have seen by now that there were gasoline on the floor of his garage and that the electrical panel was tampered with.
Harry, who must have wondered why his front door was practically locked from the outside.
Harry, who might be looking for someone to blame, for some kind of explanation.
Allie wonders when her mistakes will catch up with her and she hopes she will have enough time to figure out her next move.
She has no time at all and she knows it, and every time she thinks she's found the right way to tell Bea about her reckless plan that didn't go through, Bea tells her that she misses her and Allie turns into a useless smitten puddle joke of a human being.
She does the only thing she can do. She watches the news every day with anxiety controlling her soul. She watches intensely and listens to every detail, but they never mention anything about Harry, much less Harry's uptown neighborhood.
Allie never lets her guard down.
The first time they have a videocall, Bea is so nervous that she thinks she might pass out. They've settled the date, the hour, even the minute when the call will be made, but it doesn't reassure her at all.
She sweats like it's the middle of summer despite the chilled air of her surroundings, and she paces a dozen kilometers in the small hospital room only. The only reason she stops is because she doesn't want Debbie to vicariously get stressed too. But then, she starts practicing how to say hello to the mirror and she feels even more ridiculous.
She waits apprehensively for the moment she knows Allie will call like it's going to be her demise. She doesn't understand why she's such a messy mess. Allie knows her. She knows Allie. They know each other well. They kissed and shared their deepest issues with one another for God's sake, so why the fuck is she so scared?
The last time they spoke on the phone was just yesterday and it went perfectly fine. Except for the recent ways Allie's been stumbling on her words and laughing nervously in a way that doesn't really fit her, the call had been perfectly normal.
Bea has an explanation for the change of behavior and it makes sense to her: they've been away from each other for so long that they don't know how to act around each other anymore. And this panicked state she's currently in over a small video call proves it even more.
It's been three weeks since they last saw each other, and Bea is starting to believe that this is enough for Allie to forget how she looks like. And the second that Allie sees her again, then she might realize that Bea isn't who she remembers her to be. She might not want Bea anymore, when she sees the hospital room around the redhead, and the dark circles under her eyes, and the exhaustion tattooed everywhere on Bea's features.
It's stupid, irrational, and yet, it terrifies Bea.
She rushes to get a cup of coffee because it's late, and it's dark, and she will hate herself if she falls asleep before Allie calls.
A few minutes later, her pocket vibrates and she almost drops her coffee to the floor as she stumbles to press the right button on her phone to answer what she is sure is a very impatient Allie.
Allie looks just the same, eyes bluer than the color blue, brighter than the brightest sapphire.
"Hey," Bea says casually, cursing herself in her head.
"Hey yourself," Allie replies just as casually.
They're hopeless dorks, but the way Allie smiles erases Bea's fears in a second, and the way Bea grins shyly soothes Allie's worries instantly.
Bea is just as stunning as Allie remembers her to be, and Allie is just as breathtaking as Bea remembers her to be.
It doesn't matter that the image is a little blurred. They might be thousands of kilometers apart, but they feel like they've finally come home and the pain lifts from their chests.
"I'm looking for my girlfriend. Have you seen her?" Allie asks with an innocent look. "She's gorgeous, has flamboyant red hair, hypnotizing dark eyes, lips to die for…"
"Sounds like quite a catch," Bea smirks with a trace of shyness. "I've seen her around. Got a message for her?"
"Tell her she stole my heart weeks ago and I still haven't gotten used to being a zombie so I want it back."
"You're full of shit," Bea laughs.
"Yeah, I am, I don't want my heart back. Who needs a heart anyway? Being alive is overrated. She can keep it as long as she wants."
Bea rolls her eyes playfully and Allie winks, and they spend a small eternity staring at each other in silence and tracing lines with their irises.
Bea didn't think it was possible for her to miss Allie more than she already does, but seeing her like that, joyful and a little sad at the same time, makes her heart ache for the distance she can't cross.
"You're beautiful," Allie murmurs.
Bea blushes, as if even today, she can't believe those words and the way Allie pronounces them like there is no greater truth in the universe.
She still isn't used to the idea that someone, someone like Allie, finds her beautiful, inside and out, especially when she's been told for years that she was worth nothing.
It all feels surreal.
"How's sleeping beauty?"
Bea glances toward the hospital bed. She doesn't know if she's gotten used to the sight of her daughter or if it's because Allie can see her too, but the hurt is not as sharp as the day before. There's still too many needles and not enough signs that Debbie is conscious, but at least, her daughter hasn't gotten worse.
"Nothing has changed," Bea declares. "She's still sleeping."
That must mean she's doing better, right? Bea refuses to believe otherwise.
"She'll get better," Allie states. "And how are you?"
"Better."
And it's true. For the first time, it's true, and she isn't lying or pretending to be something she's not. She doesn't have an empty stomach due to spending hours in Debbie's room without moving. She doesn't feel like she might pass out whenever she blinks because of the lack of the sleep.
She's better.
It's not easier, but Allie helps.
"You miss me?" Allie charmingly wonders.
Bea chuckles because yes, she does, and she won't pretend like she doesn't anymore.
She will forever be grateful that Franky has gotten the internet because the sight of Allie reminds her that this feeling of missing someone is temporary. She might be feeling like her heart is being stretched to its limits, trying to reach Allie across the distance, but she knows now that someday, it'll be back to its normal shape.
She looks outside. The moon is full and no stars pierce through the polluted sky, and it would send her into a grey spiral of emotions any other night, but not tonight. Tonight, she believes that all the stars in the universe exist only within Allie's shining eyes.
"I miss you," she breathes.
"Me too," Allie replies instantly, like she's been holding on to these words for too long. "But we're together now, it's all that matters."
Bea smiles because Allie is waiting for her. She's not gone, yet, claiming that it's taking too long for Bea to come back. She's not blaming her for being far. She's not mad, or angry, or resentful. She's supportive and patient and just the same woman as before, the one who transforms Bea's life into a rollercoaster of the most extravagant discoveries.
"What have you been up to?" Bea asks curiously. "Have you found a job yet?"
She knows how important it is for Allie to contribute to the apartment, and she's hoping that those weeks have led to interesting opportunities.
She hears the hesitation before she hears the words. She hears the moment Allie opens her mouth and closes it, and the moment her breath itches in her throat in a quiet, hidden way. She hears the moment where Allie decides to change her answer. She notices the way the silence lasts too long and the way Allie's voice trembles when she replies.
"No job, but I'm working on it," Allie answers.
"Really?" Bea replies, analyzing Allie's unspoken words.
"Yeah, it's a mess out there. But I'm getting to it, I swear."
That wasn't a lie, and Bea nods, fully aware that something's wrong, but not enough of a fool to ask about it on the very first time they see each other again in what feels like ages.
This is a good time. This isn't a moment she wants to ruin. And she knows too well what happens when she accuses someone of lying. A punch in the face, a kick in the stomach, a look of disgust and a few words that are meant to hurt and destroy.
Allie wouldn't do any of this, Bea knows, but the fear is still there, and nothing else matters for a few seconds.
She tells herself that Allie must have a good reason and she makes a mental note to remember about it later.
She stares outside again. The moon is judging her without a word and Bea shivers as Allie tells her all about her plans for today.
Bea shakes her head and focuses on the blonde's words. It doesn't matter, what Allie might be hiding, because right now, of all the places Allie could be tonight, she is here with her.
The second time they videocall, the tension is still there, but it's slowly disappearing into the ambient air. Allie arrives fifteen minutes earlier at Franky's place. Franky winks when she says she'll be back in an hour, and Allie rolls her eyes, just like the very first time, knowing too well what the brunette has in mind.
They've had their last call less than twenty-four hours ago, and Allie is already on the edge of her seat, trembling with impatience as she counts down the seconds before they see each other again. She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the blonde mess on top of her head. She knows she shouldn't care so much, but why in the hell is this one hair standing straight on her head?!
By some kind of miracle, she manages to calm herself down and focus on the wonder of technology that allows them to see each other.
She thinks they've found a way to thrive, to kill the feeling of missing someone, to beat the distance trying to keep them apart. The ocean can try to separate them, but it will never win. They're stronger than whatever situation life throws at them, and they're getting good at proving it.
She sits on the couch and connects her phone to the internet. It takes a few seconds to load and then she's on, with a few minutes to spare before it's time for her to contact the woman she dreams about.
She searches for information about Harry and the police, but she finds none. She comes to the conclusion that she's safe, for now, and that no one is looking for anything. It quietens the beating of her heart, but it doesn't repel the worrying thoughts in her mind.
The fire didn't happen, she repeats herself constantly in her head. It didn't happen, so why is she always on the edge of breaking down? Why does she act like it did happen?
Because Bea will still be disappointed in her.
She doesn't know what to tell Bea, but she's well aware that the longer she waits, the more she risks in this relationship. She can't hide anything from Bea. Lies aren't good in a relationship, especially one like theirs, where both sides have been hurt too much in the past.
And even if the fire didn't happen, even if she ran away so fast that lightspeed became jealous, Allie knows that she needs to come clean to Bea because she almost did it. She almost set fire to Harry's place, and that fact alone is enough to build a wall between them if it ever comes out from the wrong mouth.
She's gambling with this traitorous truth and she loathes this kind of responsibility. It was never supposed to be about hiding something from Bea. It was never about betraying Bea's trust. It was never about being scared that Bea might hate her.
And yet, it turned to this, and now she's wishing she could travel to the past to change everything.
She planned everything except the way to deal with those unpleasant feelings.
She sighs loudly and puts on her stoical mask on her face while she clicks the call button.
"I don't know if you've ever been here, but it's too damn cold for my own good," Bea declares as soon as the signal connects them. She's wearing a hat with the hospital logo on it, and Allie finds it instantly too cute for her to handle.
Allie smiles, incapable to stop herself. There's something about seeing Bea that just makes her irrationally happy, no matter what the hell is going on in her mind. Maybe it has to do with the fact that whenever Bea is here with her, her heart goes racing a thousand miles per hour.
"How cold is it?" she asks, aware that it is winter on the other continent.
"It wasn't that bad until now. They're hit by a cold wave and those useless walls do nothing to stop it," Bea groans. "I didn't even know people could survive this. I'm turning into ice."
"You look adorable with that hat," Allie smirks, imagining the wild red curls on Bea's head puffing out as soon as the hat would be removed.
"I look ridiculous and I hate hats, and this one's no exception," Bea stubbornly answers like she hadn't spent thirty minutes before the call trying to fix her hair and makes herself looks perfect for Allie.
"You still look adorable," Allie shrugs. "And beautiful."
She grins wider, thinking she can see Bea turns a light shade of pink.
"It's hot here. I could use some snow," Allie sighs. It's always ridiculously hot in this country. "I think we're going to have a stupidly high electricity bill because of the many times I stuck my head in the freezer. Sorry. I couldn't stand the idea of taking a third cold shower."
Bea lets out a chuckle and Allie dances in its symphony.
"How's Debbie?"
"Please, take the cold away," Bea groans. "I asked for an extra blanket for her. I don't know if she can feel the weather, but if she can, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't want to wake up for that reason alone."
"Any sign at all that she might wake up soon?"
"No," Bea replies, and with that single word, Allie feels the weight of the world resting on Bea's shoulders.
Allie feels another kind of weight drops on her own shoulders, thinking that she should be able to do more, that she wants to do more, but she can't. She wishes she could take Bea's place, be the one with a loved one fighting for their life, be the one waiting and drowning in a sky of uncertainties, be the one hoping and losing hope within the lifespan of a second.
But she can't. She's already done enough. Hell, she's already done too much because of her recent actions, and she's praying that she's hasn't jeopardized anything with her recklessness. All she can do is keeping calling Bea, keep reminding her that there is hope and that she won't ever leave her alone.
"Sometimes I think she knows I'm here, and that's why she's not coming back," Bea whispers sadly.
Allie shivers at the way Bea believes in those words. It baffles her that, after all this time, after everything they've gone through, Bea still lacks a fundamental layer of trust in herself, and there's nothing she can do about it.
She could tell Bea all the compliments in the world, serenade her with a song combining all the different ways she sees her, and write her an endless poem about why she's come to care for her, it won't do anything unless Bea decides to believe it herself.
"She's probably still mad at me and she doesn't want to see me again," Bea laughs coldly. "I guess I can't blame her."
"She'll be back. You know how these young adults are. Trying to act all though and shit," Allie replies, trying to redirect the conversation.
Something suddenly clicks on the other side and Allie frowns, thinking the call has disconnected when Bea stops moving altogether. It's almost comical, the way Bea's frozen in the middle of her action, mouth half open and eyelids fluttering down. Allie thinks it's convenient, the way the call interrupts the conversation, choosing the right moment to slice through the tension as if it had a mind of its own.
"Sorry about that," Bea says, a few seconds after the image stops being still. "I had to reject Harry's call."
Allie's posture stiffens and a few drops of anger contaminate the peaceful lake of her emotions.
"He's calling you?" she says through gritted teeth, jaw clenched and eyes scanning Bea's face in search for any hint of distress.
Flashbacks bring her back to that fateful night, and she can only imagine what Harry wants to ask Bea, what he wants to accuse her of.
How dare he call her? How dare he still call her, threaten her, and go after her? The truth will come out, sooner than later, Allie is mortified at what's going to happen next. Not only will he never stop, he will also tell Bea about the gas and the panel and the door, and then Bea will never forgive her.
Which is stupid because Harry isn't even aware that Allie exists, so how could he blame her?
Allie thinks her heartbeat must be breaking records and the heat of the summer has nothing to do with the way she's suddenly soaked in her own sweat. She shakes, and almost passes out from the gripping fear strangling her.
She's fuming too, but the smoke clouding her judgment vanishes when she hears Bea laughing.
Allie has been confused many times in her life, but never as much as this very moment.
"I know what you're thinking," Bea explains. "I won't answer. Not anymore. If he wants to talk to me, he'll do it through my lawyer."
Allie watches silently as Bea starts positively glowing.
"He called me a few days ago. I didn't tell you about it because I couldn't quite believe it myself," she scoffs in disbelief. "He threatened me."
Allie knows all of this because she was there, and she heard it, and she acted, and now, she doesn't think she's ready for whatever it is that Bea will reveal to her. Alarms are going off in her head and deafening her, blocking all sounds from the outside world except for Bea's voice, quiet and insanely loud at the same time.
"He threatened to kill me. And guess what I did?" Bea looks like the proudest person on Earth and Allie is livid. "I told him to fuck off. I did it. I stood my ground. So now, he can't get to me, and I won't slip again, I won't let him in again."
Bea is bright with joy and pride, and Allie feels smaller than she's been in years.
Fuck.
Bea did it.
Bea told him to piss off, and Allie never knew it, never even suspected it, and she acted impulsively, thinking that it would protect Bea. Of course, Bea would know to protect herself, what the hell did Allie think when she wanted to drop the match and light up the sky?
Relief roars savagely in her head and takes over her senses.
Allie knows Bea is strong and impossibly stubborn. Allie knows that Bea would never let Harry win in the end. She knows that Bea would not have let him hit her again.
But Allie also knows what it's like to be beaten, to be kicked, and crushed, and have her dignity ripped apart from her. Allie knows what it's like to lose a life under someone else's punches. Allie knows what it's like to lose a loved one she could have protected better.
Allie thinks she's going to throw up from the whirlpool of contradicting thoughts wrecking her brain.
She's shaking on her seat, unsure how to react, happy and petrified at the same time, cursing her past and the existence of the Red Right Hand, and its everlasting influence on her.
"I'm – I'm proud of you," she stammers. "You didn't talk him after that?"
"I didn't," Bea replies, beaming with this newfound royal power of hers. "I shut him down."
"That's fucking amazing," Allie curses, exhilarating.
She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there's nothing but joy in them.
Bea did it.
She sighs loudly, still trying to tell her body to stop trembling.
"Are you okay?" Bea asks, concerned at Allie's strange behavior.
"Yeah, it's just the weather, you know?" Allie mutters, hoping that Bea won't insist. "I'm happy for you, I'm so incredibly happy, Bea."
"I have an idea!" Bea claims loudly, her fierceness so strong that it slaps Allie in the face. "Wait here."
Allie watches as Bea gets up and practically runs out of the frame. She stays, of course she does, even though she wants to run and hide, never to be found again. But where could she go? Wherever she goes, Bea will find her, and no matter how far she runs, her heart will guide her back to Bea.
Her heart will guide her and her brain will torture her until she tells Bea where she's been, what she wanted to do, and how close she was to do it.
Bea comes back and Allie's eyes widen at the sight of a small cone in Bea's hands.
"What is this?" Allie asks, hoping that she sounds as normal as she can.
"Ice cream," Bea grins with complicity. "To cool you off. I'll eat it and you can pretend the cold is being transferred to you."
It's silly, and childish, and it has no chance to work, but Allie loves it.
Allie thinks she can see goosebumps appearing on Bea's skin as the older woman starts eating the cold treat, and she wonders why, why does the world keep reminding her that she doesn't deserve any of Bea's kindness right now?
"Are you cold now?" Bea asks, licking her lips as the ice cream melts.
Allie wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss the flavors directly from Bea's lips.
"I am," she smiles, grateful and shattered at the same time. "I'll be back."
She comes back with a fuming hot chocolate topped with a few mini marshmallows. The first sip burns her tongue and leaves a stinging pain in her mouth, but Bea's smiling like she knows Allie is trying to warm her up, and everything is better, and everything is worse at the same time.
Maybe if she does this sweet action, it'll erase the gargantuan mistake she made.
"Are you colder now?"
"Yeah. Are you warmer?"
Bea nods ardently, her soul pulsating at the sight of Allie.
"Yeah."
The third time they see each other, there's no tension at all. No stress related to the fear of being rejected, no anxiety related to the idea that they might not appear just as beautiful as they want to be. They both accept the fact that this small videocall, this glimmer of light in the night, is the only way they can fight the madness threatening to take them both over, so there's no point thinking about the little details.
Bea wakes up a few minutes before the call and she doesn't bother trying to brush her hair. She glances at Debbie, scanning her daughter's body to make sure nothing has changed over the night. She lets sadness dig deeper inside her heart when the same lifeless sight is offered to her.
She told Harry to piss off. She fought back and meant it. She came all the way here. She's risking her future with every minute she spends here. And none of it is enough to wake Debbie up. It's too little too late and she knows she will never forget this moment, this feeling.
She swears never to be too late again.
She stays immobile, lost in her thoughts until the familiar ringtone disturbs the silence.
"Good morning," Allie grins at the sight of her sleepy girlfriend.
"Good evening," she replies, half of her mind on automatic mode.
"You look great."
It seems to be a recurring theme for them to start a conversation by complimenting each other, except this time, Allie's tone is full of mockery and Bea snorts at the comment.
"I knew you'd like it. I planned to stay up late and wake up looking like that just for you."
"You know how to get to my heart," Allie answers, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Did you ever doubt it?"
Allie pretends to think about it and Bea blocks the camera with her hand.
"Hey! Come back!" Allie yells instantly. "You can't rob me of your sight or I'll call the police."
"Oh yeah, and what are you going to tell them?"
"Someone stole the most precious masterpiece in the world and I want it back."
Bea explodes with laughter and she thinks she wants to start every day just like that.
"I have something for you," Allie declares, not wasting any time.
Bea can't blame her. Most of the time, they still communicate with their phones and voices. Whenever they are lucky enough to videocall, they are constantly aware that time is a rarity.
Bea frowns when Allie pulls out a phone from her pocket and quickly dials a number, making sure the call is on speakers. Bea hears the ringtone and a voice she recognizes replies within seconds.
"Bea?" the voice asks tentatively. It's small, and weak, but it's also so loud that it pierces through Bea's eardrums and pounds on the redhead's brain until it turns to mush.
Allie waits for Bea to answer, except Bea is speechless.
"Is anyone here?" the voice asks again, coughing the words out.
Bea's insides are all tangled up and she mentally tugs at them, trying to separate them. They twist even more when the coughing doesn't stop, and Bea absently raises a hand, hoping she'll reach the other side. But her fingers knock on the screen of her phone and she's painfully reminded that she's somewhere else.
"I think you broke her," Allie whispers after a few seconds. "Hold on."
Allie pokes the camera like it's going to poke Bea's head, and it works, and Bea blinks, and blinks and blinks again until her voice comes back, unstoppable.
"Maxie? Is that you? How are you?" she throws questions at the woman on the phone, not giving her the time to answer. "Are you still at the hospital? Did the operation go well? And – "
Someone laughs, and it sounds like life coming back to tell her that she cannot give up, no matter how hopeless a situation may appear to be.
Life has the most enchanting laugh.
"I'm good, Bea," Maxine replies, so far but so close at the same time. "I'm still recovering from the operation, but I'm fine. I'm alive."
Yes. She's alive. And if Maxine is alive, if she's out there, with a beating heart and her comforting warmth unshattered, then everything is going to be alright, Bea thinks.
"I was so worried. I thought I…"
She can't finish her sentence, but Maxine does it for her, and Bea wonders why she has ever thought that a stupid cancer would be enough to take her friend away from her. No cancer can take away someone like Maxine. No cancer is strong enough to take love and friendship and family away.
"You thought you'd lost me?" Maxine asks softly. "I thought I'd lost me too. And then Franky came to see me. And Booms. And even Allie. And in their eyes, I could see myself. Even without my hair and my breasts, I could still recognize the person they saw. Me."
"We would never let you go… I'm so happy to hear your voice," Bea replies. "I might be even happier than I am to see Allie," she adds with a teasing tone.
Allie gasps and pouts, and it's still the most beautiful sight Bea has ever seen.
"I can't talk for a long time, love. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. And that I hope you're surviving without Allie by your side. I know how lost you get without her."
There's a twinkle in Allie's eyes and Bea tries not to let her heart jump out of her chest, but she thinks she can still see floating in the air around her.
Stupid useless organ.
"Don't even try to deny it. And if it makes you feel any better, Allie isn't better than you."
Bea chuckles and Allie rolls her eyes, and Maxine laughs like she can see them.
"When are you leaving the hospital?" Bea asks.
"Soon. A few days. I called Wentworth to let them know. Once I'm fully recovered, I can go back, and I'll start searching for a better place to be."
"Don't rush too much," Bea warns. "I – I need you to stay safe and healthy."
Maxine's voice hums approvingly, and Bea can feel the embrace coming from the other side of the phone. She imagines Maxine's strong arms around her shoulders, sharing her inner strength with her. There's no place she'd rather be in the moment, except maybe Allie's arms.
"How dare you insinuate that I won't make it," Maxine challenges, half serious. "If anything, I'm the one who should be worried about you. I was surprised when Allie suggested we talk on the phone. I thought you'd be too focused on your daughter to function properly."
Bea remains quiet.
"How long has it been since you left this hospital room?"
"I just woke up, give me a chance."
"You know what I mean. You look like you've been living on this chair. You look like you haven't slept well in days, and I'm sure I can smell how stinky you are from where I am."
"You can't even see me!" Bea protests, her mouth hanging open while she's shaking her head fervently.
"You're right, Maxine," Allie retorts, sticking her tongue playfully at Bea.
Bea rolls her eyes and groans an excuse that can't be heard properly.
"I have a good intuition. And I know you. So, since you've been there for so long, how is Debbie?" Maxine asks.
"Unconscious," Bea says with a dull voice, seemingly putting an abrupt end to a lightweighted conversation.
There's a moment of silence, and Allie isn't sure what to reply, but Maxine does.
"So she's alive," Maxine replies knowingly. "She's just being an ass and making you wait longer than you should."
Bea scoffs, halfway through the process of healing herself.
"Yes, she is," she admits.
"You know she won't give up, right? So don't you dare give up either," Maxine repeats. "I want to meet her. I want to knock some sense into her when she's here, and she owes me an explanation for making her mother so worried."
"She won't let you place a word," Bea grins. "She'll bites back and you'll find yourself stuck in a corner."
"I wouldn't expect anything else from your blood," Maxine concedes. "She's a fighter, there's no doubt about it, just like you are."
Bea nods even though Maxine can't see her. She meets Allie's eyes. There are too many emotions hiding in them for Bea to see them clearly, but she recognizes the overwhelming amount of support.
"You need to get out of there," Maxine shoots at her, the words hard and soft at the same time. "Hospital food isn't something you should have for every meal. And I bet a full night of sleep and a long shower would do you good."
"I don't want to," Bea answers like a petulant stubborn child. "And you can't make me."
"If Debbie wakes up and sees you looking at her like that, she'll hardly recognize you," Maxine chimes in return. "And then she'll scream, and she'll alert security, and you'll be kicked out of her room with no chance of being readmitted inside."
Her statement is full of nonsense, and it brings a spark of joy in Bea's eyes.
"Yeah, I'm sure that'll happen," she says with sarcasm.
She receives a look from Allie and she can only dismiss it with a quick move of her hand.
"I knew from the first time I met you that you were a warrior. A smart one. Don't make me be wrong, you know how much I hate it," Maxine declares. "I'll have to hunt your ass down in America. And then Allie here will hunt mine. And then Franky will go for Allie, and then who knows will come for Franky after. It'll be a never-ending massacre. Do you really want to be the one starting it all?"
"Are you sure you're not overreacting a little bit?"
Maxine's voice sounds like a parody of herself when she answers.
"Me? Overreacting? Bea Smith, I will never overreact when it comes to you because it seems to be the only way my messages can reach you. Now, I need to go but tell me you won't ignore my advice again."
Allie quirks an eyebrow, silently questioning Bea about what again means, and Bea momentarily looks like a headless chicken, fumbling with her words and unable to let out a single clear sound out of her mouth.
"Bea?" Maxine accuses through the phone. "Did you forget, AGAIN?"
Bea doesn't say anything, leaving Maxine to guess the obvious answer.
"I don't know what to do with you, woman!" Maxine sighs. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? Just take care of yourself, go spend a night in a hotel, sleep, rest. Act like you're alive."
"Same for you, Maxie."
The call ends and Maxine is gone, and Bea wishes she wasn't because now, there's only her and Allie, and the echoing again.
Maxine sounded good, Bea reminisces. Good, great even. Better than she's been in a while. Cancer free? Bea had been so excited to hear another familiar voice that she completely forgot to ask. She makes a mental note not to forget about it next time.
"What was that about?" Allie wonders, narrowing her eyes at Bea.
Bea shifts on her seat and directs her eyes on Debbie, whose ghost is probably judging the hell out of her right now.
"Come on, Franky's coming back soon. Don't make me beg for it, unless…"
"Do you ever think about something else?" Bea deadpans, the corner of her mouth twitching to fight the smile that threatens to split her face in two.
"Only when you give me the opportunity to, which is always," Allie winks.
Bea wants her stomach to stay still for more than a minute whenever Allie is around her, but it seems like an impossible request to ask her body. The second she thinks about it, her heart joins in and beats faster, soon followed by the familiar butterflies having a party in her chest.
Alright, she wants to scream, she gets it. She's doomed to feel this way for the rest of her life.
"I told her that I…" she takes a deep breath.
There's no easy way to say these words and she hates that the most important things to say are often the hardest ones to pronounce.
Then again, if it was so easy to let them out, they wouldn't hold as much power, they wouldn't mean as much. They wouldn't carry so much within them.
"I - I like you."
Allie hears it for the first time and gasps.
It's shaky, and nervous, and honest.
Bea stares directly at her through the camera. Sure, she's done things before. She's given Allie her time, her energy, and many opportunities that Allie had stopped hopping for. She's cared for her, and showed that she cared with actions and reactions, and initiatives. But to put words on those actions, to justify them with such confession, it is something that Bea never thought she'd be able to do.
"I like you, she repeats.
It's soft, and calm, and sure.
It was written in stone and now, it's carved in gold, and it's not going anywhere.
I like you.
It's light, and gentle and innocent.
It's light enough that they don't fear those words like they would others, heavier ones.
It's gentle enough that they don't feel forced to think about expectations that have yet to come.
It's innocent, and it's said in a tone which Allie never knew existed. Bea didn't say it in exchange for sexual favors. She didn't it with a voice shaking from desire and a mind blinded by lust. She didn't say it with a tone that suggested she was intoxicated or drunk, or half alive and unaware that she was even pronouncing those word in the first place. She didn't say it to manipulate her, or to trick her with fake feelings and glorious lies.
Bea said it because she meant it.
She meant it and she didn't take them back afterwards, didn't do anything but repeat them again.
For the first time in her existence, Allie accepts them as they are.
I like you.
Allie walks down the sidewalk to where she knows she'll find the teenager again. Walk? No. She skips, she dances, she floats, she flies. She's on a high of dopamine created by the words Bea just told her. And dopamine feels good. Dopamine feels like the doors of Heaven have opened for her. She doesn't ever want to live without this feeling, this real feeling that isn't created by stupid little pills and their friends.
She wants to share this feeling with the entire world.
Words, she thinks, are more powerful than drugs, and this is the proof. Bea likes her. And chances are, Bea likes her. Bea, this freaking ray of sunshine in Allie's life, likes her. And Allie knew it, long before Bea told her, but to hear it, to have it confirmed by Bea's voice, it gives her a kind of reassurance that she hadn't known she needed.
So, she doesn't care who judges her. Right now, she's walking on a freaking rainbow. And she's walking amongst birds and butterflies and she feels like she's in one of those happy Disney movies, until she reaches the place she's been coming to for the past few days, always around the same time. She isn't sure whyshe keeps coming, she just feels the need to.
She sees the silhouette sitting at the same spot as usual, with the same dirty hat in front of her, and with the same somber expression on her face. The girl doesn't look up, doesn't say hi, doesn't even acknowledge Allie's presence. Sometimes, Allie thinks that this girl's body might be nailed to the sidewalk.
Allie doesn't mind. The girl hasn't spoken to her ever since their very first encounter. It's a good sign, really, because she hasn't told her to piss off or who knows what else. Allie knows herself that she is lucky to receive the silence treatment rather than some less appealing alternatives.
She sits next to the teenager and says nothing.
It always starts like that. She sits next to that girl, waits, and eventually, she receives the slightest sign that her presence has been accepted. Today, it takes more time. The girl doesn't move at all and Allie starts wondering if she should leave.
And then, the stranger moves one millimeter closer to Allie. Anyone else might have been fooled, but not Allie. Her trained eyes from her years of living in the night see everything. It's her signal to start, her signal that tells her she's welcomed to stay.
It doesn't matter that the teenager doesn't answer. Allie knows that she listens, and somehow, listening is more important.
"Hey stranger, how's your day?" Allie chirps, still on her cloud of happiness. "It's me, stranger number two."
Allie hasn't told her name either, and it doesn't seem to bother the girl.
Allie doesn't hear anything in return, just like any other day. It's fine. At least, the girl is here, not somewhere lying on the floor. Allie's always worried that someday, she'll come here and there'll be no one to talk to.
"Still crappy, eh? I know how that feels. The bad days just keep on coming," Allie nods, looking ahead at the people walking on the other side of the street. "But you know what? I'm ready to share my happiness with you."
That's one thing she's noticed too. People mostly move to the other side of the street, as if this side was contaminated with radioactivity. She doesn't have to think too hard to guess how the girl must feel about it.
"I just wanted to talk to you a little. If you agree, don't say anything."
Silence.
"Great! I never told you about that, but I almost did something stupid a few days ago. Do you want to hear what it was?"
The teenager doesn't move.
"I knew you'd say yes," Allie grins. "You really like listening to me, don't you? Here's what happened. I almost ruined everything with the woman I care about by setting a house on fire. Her ex's house, to be precise. Can you believe?"
Allie waits, expecting a reaction from the girl, but there's still nothing. If anything, she even seems to become bored, as if being an arsonist was not a big deal.
"I was stupid. I thought I could make a problem go away with fire. I know, I know, not my wisest move, but I had good reasons to believe that if I didn't do anything, I'd lose her," Allie explains. "I was so close to ruin everything, but I stopped. I ran away. The problem is that even if I didn't do it, I still have to tell her about it. And that's the hard part. How do I tell her without losing her? You see my problem there?"
She glances at the teenager, more out of a reflex than anything else.
"I could tell her that I didn't mean it, but the thing is, I did. I really fucking did. I had a whole plan and I could already see it coming to life. And this woman, she can read me like an open book. I can't lie to her. She probably already knows I'm hiding something and she's been kind enough to give me time to figure my shit out. You don't have all the details, but the main point is that I thought she was in danger and I was ready to sacrifice everything to save her. Even though she doesn't need me saving her, she's strong by herself," Allie rambles. "But now, she's oversea and I can't really tell her by phone, it just seems… wrong. And a very bad idea."
She sighs. She isn't sure why the teenager doesn't kick her away during those strange meetings that they have, during which she rants and speaks of nonsense. Maybe she's a better storyteller than she thinks she is. Or maybe the other girl really needs the distraction. Either way, Allie doesn't mind.
"She told me she likes me," she daydreams with a grin on her face. "It makes it even harder now. I'm scared, you know? I'm scared that - that she won't like me anymore. Because, well, I like her, obviously."
Allie pauses. She expects the girl to get up and leave now that she's talking about a subject as dangerous as emotional attachment, but it hasn't happened before, and it doesn't look like it's happening today either.
Allie nods to herself. She might be talking impulsively, but she thinks of every single word she says, and she consciously tries to not scare the other girl away.
"I'm terrified, really, that she won't like me anymore and then I won't know what to do with myself."
She knows, she's certain that the girl heard her. The girl heard her admit that she is scared, loud and clear, and Allie knows that this is a small victory itself.
When she was living in the streets, she thought fear was inexistent. No one ever admitted when they were scared of something because that was a sign of weakness, and weakness was what got you killed. So Allie had learned to shut down her feelings, unaware of the devastating consequences of such actions.
She hopes that she can teach the girl that it's okay to be scared, that it's normal.
"I'm scared because this woman, she has superpowers. She makes everything better. She makes my life a glorious mess rather than just an ordinary, boring mess, you know? She makes it easier to live."
So, so much easier. The kind of easy that Allie hadn't known existed until she met Bea.
Life is always hard, but sometimes, she thinks, you meet just the right people to make it easier every day.
"What do you think I should do?" Allie asks.
She listens to the air and the sounds of the cars.
"You're right, I need to get over this. I need to get my shit together and tell her," Allie hums approvingly. She casts a look at the girl again. She thinks she sees her mouth open a little, but there's no sound coming out of it. "It's important to tell the truth. You can't have a relationship based on lies."
Allie stops talking for a second, as someone drops a coin in the hat. She tries to ignore the feeling of déjà vu that washes over her. Not so long ago, she was the one collecting coins. These meetings are confronting her to herself and she isn't sure if she likes it or not.
"Anyway, that what's on my mind these days. I wish you never have to deal with that situation. If you find someone you like, communicate. Don't make a mistake like I did. And you're probably wondering why I'm telling all of this."
She smiles, even though no one is looking at her.
"It's nice to talk to you. You probably don't believe me and you're wondering why in the world I would stop here and just tell you all about my life. I wouldn't believe me if I were you," Allie chuckles. "I'd probably think I'm a lunatic too. I assure you I'm not."
She looks at her hand for a moment.
"Like I told you, I've been at your place. And I know that you're not me, but a part of me understands a part of you."
In her past visits here, she'd spoken a little about her own past, about her own story, so the girl wouldn't start thinking that she was trying to rob her or gain her trust to recruit her in a human trafficking scheme.
She told her how long she'd been in the streets. She told her how long it took before she gave up on the hope that someone would rescue her. She told her about all the unhealthy ways she coped with the emptiness, but without too many details. She told her briefly about Marie and Bea, and how one was the worst kind of love while the other was the very best.
But she never told her why she was kicked out of her home in the first place. And she never told her about her expectations from these meetings.
"You're always alone when I come here," she says softly. "And you stopped telling me to leave you alone. It suggests that you don't mind when I'm here."
She takes a deep breath.
"In all honesty, I'm hoping that I can help you."
She thinks she sees the girl's posture stiffening and Allie knows that she's seconds away from being told to leave because she made a mistake. A mistake that she should have known not to make.
"You don't need help, do you?" Allie asks, fixing the bleeding wound as best as she can. "I bet you never do. I bet you're tough and you believe that whatever life throws at you, you can take it."
Allie pretends to punch the air in front of her. She looks to her side and, finding no reaction from the teenager, starts slicing the empty space before her with an imaginary sword.
"And let me guess," Allie says, still stabbing invisible monsters, "you don't care about anyone either? So my story about this woman I care about probably didn't do anything for you. You probably thought 'what an idiot for liking someone', am I right?"
She receives no answer, but she knows what the girl must be thinking.
She knows exactly what her younger self would have thought.
"Asking for help in this world is just as bad as admitting when you're scared," Allie says convincingly, like she believes these words too. "And the worst-case scenario is to like someone, to care for someone on a deeper level, right? That's the moment you're screwed, isn't it?"
The girl doesn't reply, and Allie doesn't insist.
"I used to believe that."
It had been easy to pretend like she didn't care, to act like she didn't care, and to scream it out loud for the world to hear.
It had been hell to try to control her real feelings.
"I use to live by those beliefs and I never admitted when I was scared, or when I needed help. And I never, ever fell in love because the one time I did, everything fell apart. But I was so fucking wrong."
She knows the girl heard the truth.
It's okay to be wrong too.
"There are some horrible things in this world. There are some people who are going to laugh at you when you're scared. And some who will kick you in the face instead of helping you up. And some who will betray you so deeply that you'll wish you were dead instead."
She thinks of Bea.
"And there are some who will make your fears go away, help you become the best version of yourself. And love? Love is good. You can try to convince yourself that it's stupid and worthless, and a waste of energy as long as you can, but it'll take much less time, much less efforts to just accept that it's good."
Love has the power to create gods out of mortals. It can break someone's soul and heal it, just as fast. It defies the laws of science and it transforms someone to the best version of themselves, or the worst. Either way, it's powerful enough to trigger that change.
She stops talking, giving herself a few minutes to think about the way she believes in those words now.
She thinks of what she just shared. It'd felt right. It'd felt like she was making a difference. She likes it.
She wants to give herself a high five, but she doesn't want to celebrate too early, nor does she want to look like she's gone insane in front of the teenager.
"I think that's enough for today, right?" Allie smiles. "Sorry, I didn't mean to just throw all of this at you. I guess what I mean is… I'm here. If you need to talk. And if you want me to go, that's fine too. But you haven't said so, so I'm assuming we're becoming the best of friends!"
The girl snorts and Allie's smile grows bigger.
Allie gets up and winces at the way her back aches. Her speech took longer than she'd planned, and she's no longer used to leaning against hard brick walls for long hours.
She takes a glance at the girl, who's still looking down. She sighs and takes a step away. These things take time, she tells herself. She can't just expect an answer simply because sh –
"You're gay?"
She stops in her tracks and slowly turns around, like she's dreaming all of this. She doesn't see anything different when she looks back at the girl, who's still staring down, immobile and seemingly lost in her thoughts.
"Yeah. I am," Allie breathes out, sending a small anchor to the girl lost in the storm of her life.
The stranger looks like she's about to say something, but she doesn't. She nods once, and goes back to being invisible.
Allie frowns and then, all at once, understands.
Allie sees her for the first time.
At first, they think that they found the perfect solution to beat the distance and the time difference that tries so hard to destroy them.
A few phone calls here, a few videocalls there, a few I miss you and a few I care about you. Sometimes, they sing together, shyness gone out of the window, and they laugh until they can't breathe anymore. Sometimes, they quietly get lost in each other's eyes and they try not to blink for as long as they can.
It is enough for a moment. It feels great and amazing, and like every call they make brings them closer. It feels like they are always connected, always together in some way.
But of course, it doesn't last.
The magic of their first I like you doesn't last.
If anything, it makes everything more awful because Allie is trapped in Australia, and Bea is stuck in a foreign land, and these words are uniting to create a broken ladder reaching from one continent to another.
As the number of days they spend apart piles up, time stretches more, moves slower than ever before. And eventually, it feels like every day is eternal, like they are stuck in a cycle that will never end.
Bea wakes up when Allie gets ready to sleep. Bea lives in a restless world, where alarms are blaring every second, where codes are being screamed by the powerful lungs of nurses and doctors, and where everything reminds her of the tragic events that are occurring around her. Allie lives in a slow-paced world, where walks become marathons when she's lost in her dreams, where people speaks in low tones in public spaces, and where everything is summer and bright and full of life.
And paradoxically, every call they have is not long enough, passes by at lightspeed and leaves no trace behind, except for a permanent feeling of longing. Every minute becomes a second, and it doesn't matter if they just look at each other without saying a single word, the end of the call still reaches them too quickly.
It's always the same, and it's always a different kind of heartbreak everyday.
Time is a bitch when it obeys the rules of subjective perception.
Little by little, they notice all the subtle ways that distance exists between them, and every day, it bothers them more than the previous one.
The video lags, the image is blurry, the sound isn't clear enough for them to decrypt what the other is saying. The internet connection cuts, the call is interrupted, the moment is ruined. It didn't bother them at first, because they could somehow still believe that they were both at the same place together. But now, every line across the screen, every misplaced pixel, every miscalculated lapse of time reminds them that the other is not really here.
Little by little, calling each other stops being enough.
Little by little, the feeling that they're connected stops existing.
Little by little, they miss each other so much that the only cure would be for them to find each other's arms again.
They're broken and they don't quite realize it until it's too late.
They're broken, and they don't quite know why until they figure it out.
Distance? Distance is easy to conquer with the proper technology.
Loneliness? Loneliness isn't.
"I miss you," Allie says as soon as Bea's face appears on her screen.
"I miss you," Bea whispers the second Allie's blue eyes focus on hers.
They don't talk. They don't have anything to say today, and Allie sees the way Bea's eyes are closing already. She doesn't have to ask to know that Debbie isn't awake yet, and that Bea is reaching record levels of exhaustion. As much as she wants to look at Bea's eyes and drown in the chocolate shade, she doesn't want to keep her awake any longer.
"Sleep. I'll be watching over you," she offers gently.
"Are you sure?"
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
There are a million thank you's haunting Bea's eyes before she closes them and rests her head on the back of the wall behind her. Her head is heavy and her heart is pleading for mercy, and soon, sleep pities her and takes her away to the land of untold dreams.
Bea falls asleep under Allie's caring gaze and she sleeps better than she has in weeks. She dreams of steady arms holding her and soft lips brushing against hers. She dreams of clouds that look like seahorses and wishes that sound like prophecies.
When she wakes up, she has a lump in her throat and a shiny new scar on her heart when she realizes her screen is completely black and Allie is gone.
"I miss you," Bea chokes on the words when the call connects her to her distant hero.
"I miss you," Allie replies, heart aching while it's being twisted by the universe's cruel tools.
Bea feels a tear in the corner of her eyes and she fights so it doesn't fall.
Allie does the same, and she fails, and when she pretends to have dust in her eyes, Bea feels more powerless than she's ever been before.
They talk about everything and nothing at the same time.
Bea has breakfast and Allie has dinner, and Bea is wide awake while Allie is yawning every two minutes, and everything feels awfully wrong with the way one is getting ready for the day while the other is about to rest for the night. They shouldn't be living in opposite worlds, in opposite times.
They should be living in harmony, falling asleep next to each other and waking up all tangled up in each other's arms.
They try to stay together for as long as they can until Allie needs to leave, and when Bea says goodbye, it leaves another bruise on her soul, another laceration on her heart and another burn on her conscience.
It hurts more than the time before.
It always does.
"I miss you," they both say at the same time.
It's agony in its purest form.
They miss each other so much that images aren't enough anymore. Allie moving on her screen isn't enough to make Bea feel better anymore. It feels like she'll spend the rest of her life missing the blonde and she knows that this isn't the kind of life she wants to live. This isn't even a life. This is a nightmare.
She always wakes up with Allie in her mind, but she can never roll over and kiss her, or gently rock her in her arms. Instead, there's only a gap, a hollowness beside and within her.
Debbie's here, still pretending to be Sleeping Beauty, and Bea wishes she could trade places with her daughter, just for a few minutes, just so she can remember what it feels like not to miss someone the way she does.
She places her head in the palms of her hands and sighs deeply.
She wants to go wherever Allie is, because Allie is the only thing she's sure of. With the unknown fate of her daughter, and the uncertainties surrounding her job, and the fears about the future, Allie is the only constant, the only weight to ground her when she's stuck in the midst of a tornado.
It helps that they talk every day, but it doesn't mean it stops hurting.
Sometimes, Bea wonders if it would be easier to stop the calls, to stop the videos and the conversations altogether. That way, she wouldn't have to feel her insides being smashed every time they say goodbye.
And other times, she thinks that she can't stop. She can't stop calling Allie, just like she can't stop telling her indirectly that she loves her, by using any other expression or sentences. She can't stop being impatient whenever she knows her phone will ring soon. She can't stop longing and hoping, wanting and craving more of Allie.
She can't tell her heart to put her feelings on pause until Allie comes back, no matter how much she wishes she could.
Feelings have a mind of their own and Bea can't control them.
"How are you?" she asks.
"I miss you," Allie repeats like these are the only words that make sense in her crazy life.
"We've been through worse," Bea smiles sadly. "We'll make it through this too."
They've been through worse, yes.
Bea's been through the toxic ramifications of domestic violence and has managed to get out.
Allie's been taken hostage by the barbarous human trafficking organizations that rule the streets and has survived.
But they didn't know each other at that time. They didn't know what they were missing and so they didn't have this kind of pain to deal with. And sure, they went through hell and back together shortly after they met each other…
But they were together.
And now they're not, they are the opposite of together, and Bea can't touch Allie, can't hold her and make all her worries go away. She can only use words, but words are tricky. They work both ways. They mean one thing and then another, and they can be misunderstood, misused. They're sweet and dangerous, and they can heal and kill in the same breath.
"We'll make it through," Allie repeats, her thoughts hurling in her head.
What if Debbie never wake up? Will Bea leave her here, on this island full of abandoned dreams?
The lack of conviction in Allie's words steals another layer of hope from their souls.
"I made something for you," Allie declares when they call other for what seems like the umpteen time.
She tries to break the never-ending cycle of starting conversations with I miss you, but it barely works as the words have a mind of their own and still dig their way into both women's heart. They still feel the unspoken words shake their cores and move mountains around them. I miss you will never be gone until they're back safely in each other's arms. It's part of their lives now, whether they want it or not.
Even when they're in a call, in a video call, in any sort of conversation, they miss each other. Even when they're right there together, eyes locked and smiles lighting up the world, they miss each other.
Allie thinks back to all those times she'd wish Bea would tell her that she missed her. Now, she'd give anything at all to banish those words because it just reminds her of how much they are both suffering from the distance.
A bit more time and they'll have to live with permanent scars from this long-distance bullshit, Allie thinks.
The connection is good enough today so that they can see each other clearly, but still blurry enough so that they can't pretend like they're physically in the same room.
Allie's smile falters and twists when her heart, once joyful and tender, gets a little colder at the sight of Bea. It always aches, always bends, but never fully breaks, as if it was trying to torture Allie rather than send her directly to her death.
It's worse than death.
It's worse than withdrawal. She would go through a dozen withdrawals right now if it meant Bea would magically be by her side.
It's worse than any type of rejection, any type of heartbreak, and Allie doesn't know how she can speak and breathe without turning to dust.
At least, death ends. Withdrawal ends. Rejection, heartbreaks, they're devastating, but they end.
This? This does not end. It's a constant feeling of longing, of missing, of being half of a whole.
And it's not that they depend on each other. It's not that they cannot live, cannot breathe without one another, even if it sometimes feels like it. It's not like the whole universe stops moving and time stills, and the bare concepts of life and death stop making sense to them.
They don't depend on each other, and they can live, and breathe, and exist in a world where they aren't together. Of course, they can.
But it's painful, and Torture with a capital T, and it makes them feel like they're star-crossed lovers learning to live in this lost cause of a life that is their own.
"What did you do again?" Bea smiles, shadows growing under her eyes and fatigue draped over her shoulders in a permanent embrace.
"You'll love it," Allie replies convincingly, pulling a small frame out of a bag next to her.
It's the picture Allie tore apart when she was fighting demons and slashing monsters with her mind, that one night she spent at the shelter with Bea. It's the picture that fell into dozen pieces on the floor, long forgotten by Bea's tired mind. It's the picture of Bea and Debbie, both smiling like life is a beautiful, ethereal thing.
It's glued back together in a way that transforms the once destroyed picture into a piece of art, lines not really connecting, but still fitting greatly with one another. The magic irradiating from the picture is back, and it shoots through the screen to reach a starstruck Bea.
"H- How?" Bea stutters, remembering the time the picture was taken. It was under a lovely blue sky, and the candid smiles had been immortalized by a distant friend she doesn't talk to anymore. She moves her hand up, as if she wanted to get a hold of the frame, but she puts it back down when she remembers she can't.
Frustration strikes like lightning and she remains electrocuted by the broken beauty of this moment.
"I have my secrets," Allie winks.
"I thought you forgot about it," Bea admits.
"Never."
Allie looks down embarrassingly.
"I don't remember much from that night," she confesses. "I remember the pain. I remember wishing I was dead. I remember you were there. That's all. I imagine you remember a lot more than I do, and it's probably not pretty. It was probably awful for you, and I don't think I've ever apologized properly for putting you through this."
"You never needed to."
Allie shrugs, wishing she didn't have to have this conversation online.
"I did. It wasn't fair to ask you to do this for me. It isn't much, but it's something I can do to repay you."
"You really didn't have to," Bea repeats.
"And you didn't have to help me, but you did," Allie retorts. "Now stop saying that or we will never get out of this conversation."
She places the frame next to her after Bea gawks at it a few more minutes.
"It's perfect. You're perfect, you really are," Bea declares softly and emotionally.
Allie has never been anything less than perfect for her, she believes.
And maybe it's the picture, maybe it's the frame, maybe it's the way Allie is looking at her like she knows just how much this means to her, but something in the air chases the blur away, and everything comes into focus.
The way something, someone is applying pressure against her skin.
Debbie. Debbie's hand is moving, and even though it is a small, weak movement, Bea feels it like an earthquake pulverizing every inch of her body, and suddenly, the distance, the longing, the pain that came with it, it's all gone because her daughter is finally moving.
Suddenly, all the waiting makes sense.
Suddenly, all the mistakes are forgiven.
Suddenly, the past is the past and the future opens before her eyes.
Tears fill her eyes and Bea suffocates on the words she can't pronounce, can't free out of her throat.
Allie understands all at once and she screams for her, and Bea doesn't know what to do with all this love.
She's never had so much love before and she can't hold it, can't keep it, and she's petrified with fear that she's going to lose it.
"This is why I – "
She shuts her lips together.
This is why I love you.
She can't say the words.
She said the words to Harry once and he turned to a monster.
She said the words to Debbie and she overdosed.
She's terrified of what might have happen if she says those words to Allie, so she decides she won't say anything.
"This is why I need you," she whispers.
Thank you for reading :) If you're going to SSE events, have fun! If you're going to Wentworth Con, maybe we will unknowingly cross paths.