Tonight, unconventional conventionalists, lend me your ears as I have an important announcement to make:

For the first time in what feels like FOREVER, I am finally writing ahead of what I am posting! Woohoo! Screw you, Chapter Thirteen, suck on THAT.

Thank you once again to my reviewers (one of these days I will dedicate personal messages - when it isn't in the small hours of the morning), and once again, please don't be shy for shy quiet readers out there. It makes me so happy to read reviews! I could literally explode.

All hail Toothless the Dragon.

Watching Columbia in a constant battle with herself weighed far too heavy on Sprite. Not even Magenta knew about Columbia's opportunity, so responsibility fell to Sprite and Sprite alone.

Except, she couldn't always be there to save her.

Columbia was headstrong. Outspoken. Not much of a filter between her head and her mouth. The eventual disclosure of all that she held secret was inevitable - nothing but a matter of time. And, due to holding it in longer and longer each day, some of these little slips had happened already.

The first one occurred on the same day.

After Frank had woken himself up, he sprang right back in to that lovely mood, and continued being excited and playful towards both his firefly and his little mouse. Although (Sprite tried not to feel jealous) Columbia did get more of the attention.

He hasn't seen her for seven days. The novelty will wear off in a bit.

And sometimes, Frank could trick you into thinking that today, on account of his sunny disposition, you could get away with anything.

Sprite saw it in her face before it happened. She just knew - endangered species communicate with each other non-verbally every day - that Columbia was going to chance it. She was going to through caution to the wind, vanquish all her wariness and tell Frank everything on the spot. She might even ask his permission to leave. Because Columbia was optimistic, Columbia was naive, and after all this time, Columbia was in love.

Frankie would never hurt you.

'Columbia!' Sprite yelled before she could say anything. She glared rather aggressively at her, who hunched her shoulders a little, frowning. Sprite didn't want to upset her, but hearing of Mr. Dancer's unexpected, brutal murder a few days from now would be far worse. 'I forgot to tell you that Magenta's making cupcakes. She knows you love to decorate them. Would you go in and see if she needs any help?'

Frank had not caught any of the silent interaction between the two. He had snagged his nail in his fishnets, and spent an awfully slow, meticulous few minutes unpicking the thread without ripping a hole. Thus, he frowned in surprise upon seeing Columbia with her back to him.

'Firefly!' He called. 'Where are you going?'

She stopped in the doorway - twitched - sighed.

'I need the bathroom.'

They both watched her skip (yes, skip) towards the stairs. She misjudged the position of one of the steps and landed clumsily, one foot twisted awkwardly beneath her. Frank dashed forwards, but she got up unhurt, and came back in one piece a few minutes later.

The second time, Columbia was not so lucky. On account of Sprite making herself unavailable (she had acquired a rather persistent headache, and had taken to her own bed to lie down), Columbia and Magenta were in their room together. Despite only lasting seven days, it felt much longer since the dynamic duo had had this down-time to themselves. They'd missed it.

Columbia's limited edition galaxy print of A Night At The Opera spun rhythmically atop her turntable. Mercury screamed about a sewer rat, decaying in a cesspool of pride.

Magenta sat in deep concentration, styling her hair just the way she liked it. Adding volume until it was at least twice the size of her head.

Occasionally batting questions and comments back and forth, both absorbed in doing their own thing and completely at ease with themselves.

'Tink did really well to manage all that time on her own.'

'Yes. I was proud of her, I must say. Frank was too, although I don't enjoy thinking about that.'

'Mm.'

Spritz. Tick. Pop.

'Why did you put that vulgar accessory on that poor dog of yours?'

'It's cute! It's only a bandana, and Earnie looks so handsome when he's wearing it!'

'All it takes is for my Kaiser to mistake it for a toy and that dog is toast.'

'Maybe you should train him then. My pet is well behaved...'

Cough. Shift. Yawn.

'Are you happy to be back?' Magenta looked past her reflection to survey Columbia on this one.

'Sure I am. I love it here, getting to see Tink and Frankie again. I've also got my audition to look forward to so at least it won't be exactly the same.'

Magenta put her styling products down. 'What did you say?'

Columbia jumped. Her face, turned away from Magenta, thank heavens, contorted in fearful shock as she mouthed, 'oh fuck!'

'I said my...' her shoulders slumped, defeated. 'My audition.' She sighed, hating herself more than ever. She'd only gone and done it now. 'Tink asked me to coach her - you know, she wants to practice being more dominant - but she asked me not to tell anyone because she thinks it's embarrassing.'

Magenta blinked. 'And you need to 'audition' to be her submissive for the night?'

'Well, yeah. I'm not very experienced in that stuff either. If I end up not being very good, she was going to ask you.'

The styling products were put away somewhat abrasively. Magenta chose a battered copy of the Karma Sutra to flip through instead, bare ankles crossed behind her head, sullen-faced.

Would she ever be first choice?

The third and final time (before Sprite threatened to tell Frank for her and have it blow up in her face) was in front of Riff Raff.

Now, straight away that seemed strange. Riff Raff, who openly despised Columbia and all her insufferable cheeriness, had not only stepped into the room with her on purpose, but chose to stay there as well? One might think Sprite's presence made up for it, but Sprite herself was not that stupid.

Columbia and Sprite were engaged in a heated debate when he walked in. Columbia near tears, Sprite at the end of her tether, right at the climax, when Riff interrupted. He shuffled in, sat at the farthest seat away from them, and began writing in a notepad resting on his knees.

'Look,' Sprite said in a hushed tone, 'all I'm saying is you have to make a decision. You need to stop blurting it out, because what if the opportunity is stunted before it's even begun?'

'You're right.' She chewed her lip nervously. 'I haven't even returned his call yet. I don't want him to give up on me and change his mind - unless he already has. What if he's found someone better already, and doesn't want me anymore?'

'You'll never find out if you don't take the first step. In fact, let's do it right now.' Sprite pressed her phone into Columbia's hand. 'It's a nice day, where do you want to go? Beach? Cafe? Shopping? It doesn't matter, but let's just take the phone with us, and make the call while we're there. Nobody will know, and you'll have time to process the decision, good or bad.'

'Okay.' Columbia couldn't stand still for nerves. 'Okay, that sounds like a good idea, the only thing we have to think about is an excuse to go-.'

'I can handle that.'

They both jumped a mile. The voice came from nowhere - unrecognisable, though, it was not. Nasally, sophisticated, a touch too smoky to be plummy (a fact which frustrated Sprite enormously) this disembodied statement preluded Riff Raff unfolding himself from the ground up, unabashed in his intruding.

Neither of them had seen him come in.

Columbia spoke first. Mouth agape, brow furrowed, she looked fit to explode. 'You were spying on us!'

But a dwindling glare scared Columbia into silence. 'Conveniently distracted is more like it,' he commented dryly, before - locking eye contact with Sprite - he continued. 'Venture offsite, if you'd like to. The master's in a foul mood today. In the unlikely event in which he notices your absence, I'll keep him occupied.'

Sprite's stomach turned. Riff scratched the floor. Riff chipped a statue's red fingernail. Riff forgot this, neglected that. The pettier the better, it seemed. Frank would act immediately, even if it was unnecessary. Any excuse to practice forceful sadism.

Sprite created the line between dominance and perpetration.

'And Columbia.' She flinched harder than Sprite used to. 'Good luck with the audition.'

Columbia stared back with a face of utter bewilderment. Sort of touched, mostly guilty, a tiny bit bemused.

Before leaving, Riff gave them a tiny nod of camaraderie. Sprite even though she saw him smile.

Sprite breathed a sigh of relief as she followed the preceding passenger from the bus platform to the smooth pavement. Both, to savour every muscle unwinding in her body, and to be rid of that stench of heinous body odour.

She took a deep lungful of sweet and crisp air. 'Oh, thank God,' she sighed, stretching the last of the knots out of her neck. 'Fucking finally.'

Squinting against the sun, she waited for Columbia to disembark the four-wheeled death trap. One may think Sprite was being dramatic (as Sprite was wont to do) but this burning hatred for public transport spanned years into the past.

She hated it then and she hated it now. It started back in school. Bracing herself for the prospect of boarding a bus packed with children who knew her by her person - not once of the ignorant pricks knew a real thing about her. Enduring the jeers and taunts the whole way there ('No shit, they dug her up?' 'Only marijuana for breakfast this morning?' Or, on the rare occasion where she dared utter a word, 'Hey - did anybody hear something?').

So silly yet so effective.

And so instigated the next four week long absence filled with dread for the next one.

This fear never went away. No matter the destination, five minutes or thirty minutes, her heart strangled her voice, she sat in rigid fixation, not even looking up until the vehicle rolled to a stop. Then came the daunting expedition of standing up and walking to the front of the bus with everyone watching her. Probably stumble over her thanks or not say anything at all, thus cursing her to play it over and over again in her mind. Worrying and thinking, and feeling sick because too many things gnawed at her at once.

Thirteen came as a blessing - she saved enough for a chauffeur. And once Ralph arrived, she praised the lord for never having to step foot on one of those things ever again.

Until now.

Neither had the nerve to steal the truck, the sum would be too much to spend on a taxi without arousing suspicion, and both has an intense aversion to walking. So, to the painful sinking of Sprite's stomach, bright red double-decker bus it was.

Had the thing eaten Columbia?

Her blindingly glittering pink heel was the last to leave the dirty flooring. Her other ankle went over as she misjudged the distance from the platform to the street, and Sprite dashed forwards to catch her.

Sprite squealed as she grappled onto her madly, both ankles wavering in those ridiculous shoes. 'Take more water with it next time!' She helped Columbia right herself. 'You okay? Haven't hurt your foot?'

Columbia spotted the towering glass doors, and sprinted off towards the mall entrance. Obviously not!

She span around with open arms, exclaiming, 'Yay, we made it!' She threw her arms around Sprite, so happy she might explode. 'I love getting to do stuff like this! It's been so long! I can't wait to spend a whole day just being...!'

She trailed off, but thy both knew what she meant. So tired of looking over one's shoulder. So tired of neglecting one's self-care. So tired of distracting, and suppressing, one's identity.

They squeezed hands. They grinned at each other. Today, they would be nothing but themselves.

With more than a thousand people wandering around this shopping centre, they just blended in. They didn't have to live to expectations, they didn't have to constantly be on guard in case someone saw them, they didn't have to pretend to be comfortable in the situation. They could do whatever they pleased - they could get ice cream, they could model outfits, they could consume their body weight in tea and cake, they could sprawl out in the sun, they could watch people tombstone into the sparkling blue water but never have the guts (not the stupidity) to try it themselves.

So they did. And they had a great time.

'So,' Sprite said around a mouthful of chocolate-drenched soft pretzel, addressing the elephant in the room that had been following them all day. 'Do you want to make that call now?'

Columbia opted to have her salted pretzel cut into pieces. She nibbled on one now, chewing over the proposition. 'No, she sighed, 'but I need to. Otherwise I never will.' Sprite pulled out her phone, eliminating the last excuse. 'I need something to force me into doing it, because I'm not brave enough to do it myself.' Columbia had tied her hair in two red buns on top of her head. She fiddled with one anxiously, encouraging the bobby pins to loosen and stick out. 'You dial the number, and pass me the phone, then I'll have no choice but to speak when he answers.'

'Okay. Good idea.' Sprite shifted into a kneeling position atop their makeshift picnic blankets - the jackets they wore on their backs. She took the card from Columbia's shaking hand and began typing the numbers.

The name 'Frank' beside a smiling purple devil emoji popped up seconds before it began to ring, and in the concentration of tapping the screen, Sprite accidentally pressed 'answer' before she even noticed the call.

She almost squealed, grappling with the phone to get it against her ear. 'Hey, Frankie!' She said far too nervously. She sent a tense glance to Columbia, who looked like a doll with her silly hair and wide eyes. 'Everything okay?'

'We're fine here, my darling. Now, is there a game of hide and seek that nobody told me about?'

She forced herself to laugh. 'What? I'm not hiding!' Columbia was apt to burst with desperation to hear the conversation, but Sprite waved her away. She glared at her, mouthing, wait! 'I'm shopping.'

'With who?'

'Columbia!'

'Right.' Sprite winced at the honeyed fury harboured in but one word, 'and I suppose you think it's okay to wander off without telling me?'

'Riff Raff sent us for bathroom products,' Sprite blurted, mentally saying a prayer for him. 'We're running low, apparently. Didn't he tell you?'

This, blessedly, she knew to be true.

Even through the phone, she could feel the rage cooling. But not for long, as it would be re-heated and re-distributed towards a weaker, much more entertaining recipient. 'No, Frank said. 'No, I'm afraid he didn't.' He sighed. 'Alright, flower, well, I don't want to interfere with your frivolity, but leave a note or something next time, yes? You had me worried sick.'

Worried sick my ass. Dusting off the knuckles and browsing the Roladex of retribution is more like it.

She mm-hmm'd, said hi for Columbia, exchanged a genuine I love you, and ended the call.

'What the fuck!' Sprite clutched either side of her head. 'Oh my god!'

'That was not supposed to happen,' Sprite continued, 'I'm so sorry Columbia.'

'That's okay. Let's do it, I'm in the mood now.' Sprite waited a moment before pressing dial. 'Actually, Tink, can you step away? Like go to the bathroom or something? I don't think I can do it if someone's watching me.'

Sprite killed the time by loading a basket full of expensive floral bath products.

Sprite wandered around by herself for long stretch afterwards. They had strict instructions to meet back at the second-hand vinyl store when it started getting dark, since neither of them had any alone time anymore, and both couldn't wait to drift off to the sound of their footsteps and not have to worry about anything.

Columbia was more apt to go deeper into the noise and bright lights. Sprite, however, turned away from them.

She walked further into the local streets, until the loud, obnoxious, glass-walled consumer magnet was but a dot on the horizon.

These multi-coloured streets were quiet. Familiar. Nostalgic, though not entirely good or bad, but somewhere in the middle. This was her home, after all.

There stood the park she spent most of her childhood in. There was the red frame she used to climb (much more forlorn in it's faded, creaking age), and once fell from, breaking her arm at five years old. A passing dog-walker had unsuccessfully called on her mother, then took her to the hospital herself, where a really nice man wrapped her arm in a warm, sticky bandage and added another layer of pink wrap, which nobody signed. If her mother ever noticed this, she never mentioned anything.

Parallel to the rusting fence stood a brown park bench, default in position, and colour, and use. The exact bench she would get drunk on from the age of ten. It became a nightly occurrence by twelve, and to the attention of the police by fifteen. She ran. She always ran. Her cowardice could be overlooked by the well-known fact that if she chose to run, even whilst intoxicated, no one would be able to catch her.

Perhaps that's why Frank didn't like taking her outside.

That patch of grass - that exact patch, where the dew glistened just so but the wind didn't seem to touch - marked the spot where a friend had 'accidentally' overdosed while Sprite watched on, horrified. He collapsed, face down, right there, and Sprite - whether in shock or fear or disbelief - turned around and went home. She never said anything to anybody, and an unfortunate mother and young girl discovered his contorted, wasted body, partially frozen the next morning.

Fucking hell. She hadn't even got to her street yet.

The house with the solar panels belonged to a crazy cat lady who once lobbed her crutch at Sprite for feeding a bedraggled-looking ginger kitten a tiny piece of ham. The house a few streets over, the stained glass window just visible in the warm sun, belonged to Arlo. It sent a weird thrill up her spine. Imagine seeing him now, what on earth would she say? That assuming they would even recognise each other!

I hope he's doing well. Sprite stood looking at the house a few moments longer. Please say he's doing well.

The awful grey, institutionalised building looming over the cul-de-sac acted as a school - her school. A weekday today, perhaps Arlo was in there, along with Remi and Zadie, sitting at their desks, flicking pens at each other, braiding one another's hair. Scheming for ways to sneak in opioids, reminiscing about the last party, excitedly planning the next one. Maybe they dared to remember Sprite in that moment. Maybe they dared spare a passing thought in her memory. Wondered where she was, where she had run off to, or even if she was still alive.

Wishful thinking. The truth rang clear in this silence. In this normality. In this undisturbed sense of peace.

No one had even noticed she'd gone.

She had hoped it would turn out this way, for her sake - she harboured the guilt for everyone - but seeing it for herself, so unabashedly, so blatant, it filled her with indigence and rage. Just once, it would've been nice to have someone care about her. Was that too much to ask?

She turned around to walk back. It was crushing her, being here.

She made it to the music store, a trying-not-to-cry headache throbbing from the inside out, and tried to calm down whilst waiting for Columbia.

The girl came from behind, and scared the living daylights out of her.

'Columbia!,' she said, shaking a little. 'Don't do that!'

Sprite's face fell. Columbia was glowing.

'I did it,' she said quietly.

'You... you did it?'

She nodded. 'They're expecting me next week.'

Sprite tried to be happy, but she just couldn't. Not really. One step closer to Columbia's freedom. One step closer to loosing yet another genuine friend. She'd better pray nothing happened to Magenta - she would die without them.

Regardless, Sprite painted on a smile and pushed forth a scream, throwing her arms around Columbia and sharing in her triumph.

'Don't get too excited though.' One hair bun unraveled completely loose. 'I might not even get in.'

'Who cares? You did it, you're going! You have a chance!' She grabbed Columbia's shoulders and shook her. 'Do you even understand how amazing this is?'

'I know. I can't believe it.'

Putting a damper on their hard earned high, Sprite's phone began to ring.

They both knew who that was.

Sprite silenced the call as they walked back towards the station, ignoring each one as they boarded again, climbed to the second floor and collapsed into their seats.

It wasn't as scary on the way back.

Columbia sighed wistfully, resting her head on Sprite's shoulder. 'What am I going to do, Tink? If I do get this? I want it more than anything, but I can't leave you and Jen behind!'

Sprite reached up and petted her cropped hair. 'Columbia,' she said sternly, 'when was that last time you did something for yourself? Something that you weren't conditioned to want?'

She didn't say anything.

'Exactly.' Sprite kissed her on the forehead. 'You need to do this, Columbia. I'm rooting for you, and Magenta will be too. You're not stupid, you must know that this project of theirs doesn't have long left. In the nicest way, Columbia, Frank won't need you for much longer. Get out now, before you get left behind.'

'I would have stayed for you. To make sure you were alright first.' She sniffled pitifully. 'Maybe we could have moved in together. Started again, you know? Achieved things which surprised the both of us.'

'Well, this is probably a sign. The world couldn't handle the two of us together.'

They giggled.

'You weren't there when Frank made his guy, were you?'

Sprite started. 'And you were?'

She nodded. 'I was there when Riff killed him. In fact, I had only just arrived there. Six weeks, if that.'

I'll never forget that celebration we had. Tink, it was magical. Frank was just - happy. So happy. He knew he was going home and he couldn't wait and everyone was congratulating him. I even saw him cry a few times. And when we went up to the lab, oh my God. I thought they'd burst into flames. I'll never forget it - standing there, to his left, feeling like I was about to pee my pants. He made a big speech and Magenta and I uncovered the tank—.'

Sprite flinched.

'— and they were all cheering and whooping, Frank couldn't get the funky syrups in fast enough. I couldn't believe it myself when he began to shake, he stood up and Riff leaned over to pull the bandages off and then...'

Columbia shook her head, words failing her at that moment. There are some things you just have to see.

'And that was it. Fate was sealed. Frankie, Jen and Riff they'd done it, they were going home. No one said a word about me, but I had come to expect that.'

She frowned. 'And then, as Frankie explained to you, it all went wrong.'

Sprite squeezed her hand. 'You don't know why he did it?'

She shook her head sadly. 'Jealousy, is all I can think of. Even though why would it matter, because if they all get to go home anyway, who cares who's responsible?' She shifted in her seat. 'He was a funny little guy though.'

'Did he have a name?'

'Rocky. I wanted him to be a girl. Then he would've been Adrienne...'

Sprite guffawed.

'I was in charge of oiling him up for public appearances, which I didn't mind one bit. Not two brain cells in that thick head but fucking hell he was hot. Which I suppose was the point.'

'Did... did you ever-?'

'No. Weren't allowed to. Rocky was Frank's and Frank's alone. He only got to have him a couple times before Riff snatched him away again.'

The unmarked stop crawled along beside them. Sprite stood up, holding onto the back of the chairs to walk towards the stairs.

The bus jerked as it came to a stop. Columbia, aside from almost falling over, dropped a small white paper bag from her pocket. She scrambled for it and stuffed it back inside. Sprite gave her a look, but didn't question it. Not until the forbidding castle loomed overhead did Sprite mention it again.

'Steal some sweets while I was gone?'

Columbia chuckled. 'What?'

'You're hiding something in your pocket.'

She flushed as red as her hair. 'No I'm not.'

'Yes you are. Let me see.'

She stepped away. 'No.'

'Columbia, no one can see us, just show me!' She reached for her but she shrunk away again.

'No!'

They ended up wrestling. Columbia gave Sprite a dead arm, Sprite kicked Columbia in the shin. Hair pulling, infernal screaming. They weren't out to hurt each other, but fighting in the way sisters do. Eventually, one arm held painfully above Columbia's head, Sprite reached into her pocket and snatched the bag inside. She ran, screaming, to keep Columbia at bay until she could get a look inside.

She wrenched the two sides apart - and found white powder staring up at her.

Lightheartedness gone as though she'd been stabbed, she relaxed her arms and stared at her. 'Columbia.'

Still trying to snatch it back, she protested, 'It's not even mine!'

'You're dealing?'

'No!' She held the sides of her head, sighing. 'I have to support myself somehow. I don't have a penny to my name and believe it or not Frankie's sleazy advances are not sufficient payment. Living here has never been permanent, I'm not stupid. I need something to start with when I get out.'

Sprite blinked, furious. 'So, to reiterate: you're dealing.'

'I'm not going to sell it.'

'Then what-?!'

'It's Riff's.' Sprite stopped, dumbfounded. 'I don't know what it's for and I'd like to keep it that way. He makes a list of stuff and I get it for him.'

'Where did you get this? You got this today?'

She nodded. 'I know people, I was in the groupie scene for almost five years. Stumbled down the stereotypical dark alleyway right after I finished the call.' As if trying to justify her actions, she said, 'There's some sort of account in Riff's name back home, and a share of that goes to me - as soon as he gains access to it again.'

Sprite folded her arms. 'And you believe that?'

'I have to. No other choice.'

Sprite studied the substance thoughtfully. 'Does Frank know?'

'Of course not. And he's not going to find out.'

After giving it a lot of thought, Sprite tossed the bag back. Columbia shoved it into her pocket and stormed away somewhat abrasively. Sprite sighed and followed along with one thought in her head.

What are we idiots doing to each other?

Frank wasn't too shirty with them when they sidled back in.

He sat waiting for them, of course, perched elegantly atop the dining room table whilst Magenta manned several bubbling pots for tonight's meal. His shoes rested on the chair. They sparkled in the dim light.

Brazenly, he didn't take any notice of Columbia. He drawled, 'Hello, stranger,' before hopping from the table and moving to greet Sprite, leaving the other girl to slip away into her room.

Neither did he (or anyone) comment when she didn't show up for dinner. Sprite picked at her plate (which she did every night) staring at the slab of red meat and wondering if the cow had suffered immeasurably to provide it. Her stupid, patronising glass of iced water stood in place of everyone else's large reds, which they couldn't part from for more than three nights, and now more than ever she considered listening to her addiction and diving across the table for one.

Frank liked to act as though she didn't have a problem anymore. It made things easier for him.

She was ready to bolt to her room and stay there as soon as Magenta started clearing up, but a gentle touch on her arm stopped her. Turning to look past Riff Raff who'd caught her attention, Frank gave her a very deliberate look. She clearly had to stay.

She sulked on the nearest plush chair, scrutinising the bare part of Riff's slightly greenish arm. She wondered if the bruised entry points had healed over by now.

Her heart sank again when the other's disappeared off to do their own things. To be left alone with Frank.

She begged for courage. She prayed for courage. Whatever you do, don't let this slip out...!

Frank knelt beside her chair with a small smile. 'What's up, little mouse? You've been awfully quiet since your return.'

She shook her head. 'Nothing.'

Even the air knew that she was lying. 'You can tell me, darling.' He stroked the silver curtain of hair behind her ear, reminding her gently: 'I'm not angry with you, if that's what you're worried about.'

She frowned, shifting uncomfortably. 'It's stupid.'

'It won't be.'

'I don't even want to talk about it.'

'It's not good to bottle things up.' He regarded her sternly, not giving an inch. 'I can't let you go to sleep like this. You know what will happen if you lie there with an over-active mind. Have you forgotten last time?'

She flinched, stifling a sob.

'My lamb, you're clearly upset. Talk to me, mousy, please.'

She hung her head, defeated. Shit, she really wanted to avoid addressing this, but with Frank's persistence and the promise of much-needed coddling afterwards...damn near impossible.

'When me and Columbia went into town...' Frank brightened considerably, rising to sit beside her after she made room. She couldn't re-live it again without him there to comfort her. '...there came a point where we decided to separate for a while.'

As if she would betray her friend like that, even if it did result in a fierce glare from Frank. Columbia needed a reason to stay afloat, and Riff Raff needed the relief. As it happened, she had come to care for both of them.

Frank didn't admonish her for going off on her own, however. He wanted her to finish this, and scolding her would only throw her off.

'And while I was on my own, I noticed a lot more of my surroundings. Both in the mall, and in the local streets when I went there as well.' Frank was liable to kill her after this. Roaming the cruel, selfish world unaccompanied and venturing back to the place where she came? Tie the noose now. 'And in the centre of London, obviously its one if the most densely populated places you could go. Thousands of people cross through there everyday.'

She paused, squeezing his hand to fight the tears. Crying would come later. She needed to articulate this herself.

'And I saw not one missing person flyer. No front page story in the newspaper. No devoted search parties. The world just kept on turning, as if I'd never left. As if I was never there at all. Even when I stood on my own fucking street there was nothing. All those people and not one person knows that I'm here. Not one person cared that I disappeared. If anyone had noticed, they sure worked tirelessly to find me.'

Frank tried to interrupt. 'Lessie, I-.'

'But then I realised. Those people don't care about me. My friends don't care about me. My mother doesn't care about me. After all this time-.' Her throat closed up, putting her head in her hands. Frank felt his heart break a little, seeing her tiny shoulders shaking. She spoke with a voice thick, and wavering with emotion. 'Am I even here, if I'm alone?'

Then she snapped.

She melted into Frank's arms, sobbing, and Frank could do nothing but hold her and wait until she cried herself out.

He detested things like this. He welcomed her tears about anything - anxiety, injury, nightmares, anger. No one else could make a dent in those problems other than him. He had all the power, without him, she would drown. And she knew that.

But this? Nothing. He could do nothing. It made him feel idle, inadequate. A spare part. He couldn't sing the traumatic past away, nor bury the unhealthy exposure under passionate intercourse, not even kiss her and promise that he would make everything okay.

He didn't have the control.

'Oh, darling, I'm so sorry... you poor, poor little mouse, it's alright! Darling it's alright, don't panic. You're safe here, Frankie's got you... you just let it all out now, there's a good girl...'

In time, her crying subsided enough to let her speak.

'I didn't ask for this.' Her tone was lifeless, and it chilled Frank to the core. 'My life is not some debt to repay. I only wanted one person to care, surely that isn't too much? I deserve that, right?'

'Flower, listen to me.' Frank sat up and prised Lessie away from him. A damp puddle of tears stained his sheer sleeve into opaque. He cupped both flushed cheeks, foreheads almost touching. 'You were born from a woman who wasn't ready to be a parent. Now I can't change that, as much as it breaks my heart, I can't take that away for you. But in time, my little mouse, that won't matter! You're here now, I'm looking after you. I care about you. You are so loved here, darling - so loved! Magenta loves you, and Columbia idolises you, my girls didn't want to leave you they were so taken...' He pulled back, solemn, sighing at her wary expression. 'And me, well,' he toyed with her hands, lowering his gaze with a soft murmur to make the performance as convincing as possible. 'I'm afraid I don't quite know how to express the way I feel about you. How honoured I am to have you. Wild horses would not drag me away from you now. I know you find this hard to believe,' he pinched her cheek, smiling at her to break the tension. 'But I appreciate you. I'm proud of you. I love you - could you at least believe that?'

Not brave enough to look him in the face, she nodded once.

'Trust me, with everything you have, when I promise you you'll never have to feel alone again. This is your family now.'

She continued to stare at the floor. 'Sorry to have to put you through this again,' she whispered. 'Most people would be over it by now. What with all the help you've given me, and -.' She shook her head slightly. 'I know I'm overbearing, and quite a handful most of the time. I don't tell you enough, but I'm so grateful to you.' Her voice quieting to barely distinguishable, she said, 'Nobody's ever loved anybody as much as I love you.'

She didn't need to know Frank had exceptional hearing.

He placed a gently hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look him in the eye. He gazed into those round, puffy panda eyes - and winked. Just the once.

She giggled tearfully, but preferred to be back in his arms again, resting against his shoulder and feeling his strong hands on her back.

Her sniffling quieted, but the ticking of the clock paid no heed.

She found herself thinking about time. Time, that healed everything. Time, the most valuable currency. Time, the one cruel chasm or the one heavenly bridge between two desperate lovers.

A time before this, a time after this. A time when she felt excited here, special and exclusive. A time when she felt, with the help of her friends and a little old-fashioned faith, she could do anything. A time when aristocrats sat in this room, in this chair, enjoying coffee and brandy after some tedious social engagement, where the men discussed politics and the woman gossiped about who was getting cheated on, who was getting used for money. A time when Juniper sat here, phantom hair flowing freely over translucent shoulders covered with enigmatic silk. A time where Frank sat here with her, perhaps holding her in the way he held Sprite now, both half-asleep and in bliss.

Perhaps Juniper didn't know of her lover's temperament until it was too late. Perhaps she ran out of time.

'It's late, my darling,' Frank murmured into her hair. 'My room?'

She nodded sleepily. Frank rose, cradling her like a paperweight, as he slowly ascended the stairs, one by one, taking every precaution not to disturb her.

She only vaguely remembered feeling the firm mattress, silky sheets and soft pillows moving beneath her head. She sort of recalled feeling something soft and comforting slipping between her arms. She retained a tiny recollective sliver of being turned on her side, adjusted, and then wrapped in a pair of strong, protective arms.

The light went out after she'd fallen asleep.

The first few hours after a meltdown always made Lessie a little delirious. Sometimes she tossed and turned until the sun came up the next morning. Other times, she'd take herself off sleepwalking. The worst occurrence involved her letting herself into the laboratory, and had one leg hiked up over the edge of the tank when Frank found her. Frank kept an extra firm hold on her tonight to keep they from happening again, which meant the only option available to her involved a series of nonsensical sleep-talking.

This, too, was not an unusual occurrence. Many a night Frank had stroked her silver tresses while she slurred about fairies or jellyfish or mushrooms. It was too entertaining to respond to these bizarre statements, eyes closed and relaxed, and see what funny conversations would come out.

Tonight bore no exception. She liked to lay on him, and shuffled over to do so now, legs splayed, arms loosely draped around his neck. She reached up to pat him on the head, and mumbled into the curve of his neck: 'It's okay, Frankie, it's just the light. You don't really look like a girl.'

He chuckled, rubbing her back. 'You've put my mind at ease, my love.'

'I know,' she slurred. 'I'm the best.'

Shoulders shaking in silent laughter, he shifted her position and kissed her hair. 'You make me so happy, little mouse. Do you know that?'

Only her deep breathing responded, and Frank thought she'd fallen into a deeper sleep. He had almost dozed off himself, thinking about what he'd treat her to the next morning, when she spoke again.

'Juniper made you happier.'

This one rang so clear it was impossible to miss what she'd said. Despite it not making any sense, Frank still frowned. The second time she'd mentioned this Juniper - perhaps it was a childhood memory, or the subject of a nightmare?

'Juniper isn't real, my sweet. You don't compare to anyone. Perhaps you dreamt her up, or read about her in a storybook?'

She shook her head vehemently into the crook of his neck. 'You've forgotten her. She would cry if she found out.'

Frank massaged her hair, frown deepening. This wasn't quite funny anymore. Just where had she fabricated this from?

'She could cry at the drop of a hat - you told her that once.'

'Alright, Lessie, stop this now. Wake up at once-.'

'She could cry on command - most of the time she just wanted your attention.'

He dug a hand into her hair and gave a rough yank.

'Ow!' She bolted upright, fully awake. She glared at him, hurt, annoyed and a little scared. 'Frankie!'

'Oh, darling,' Frank pretended to have just woken up himself, looking back at her a little dazed and confused. 'Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to trap your hair.' Her eyes softened as she realised it was a small accident.

An 'accident'.

'Come on now, lie down. Go back to sleep.'

'Can't sleep properly like this,' she mumbled as she turned away to make herself comfortable. 'I keep having weird dreams.'

He wrapped his arms around her (he wasn't letting her go at all tonight, regardless of how uncomfortable she became) and kissed her shoulders. 'What were you dreaming about?'

'I don't know.' She sighed, snuggling further down into the bedclothes. 'I can never remember.'

Good, Frank thought, if they're anything similar to what you're talking about then I don't want you to-.

'I feel like I should though.' Her voice grew thick as she talked herself to sleep, and threatened to take Frank with her. He wanted to hear this first. 'Like it's clear as day when I'm dreaming but it's gone as soon as I wake up. It's there - I can almost recollect it, but it feels like I've forgotten something important. I can't attribute it to anything that feels right. Eventually it will come to me, but I need a phrase or an expression or a smell to jog it. You know what I mean?'

'Sort of.' He didn't at all. 'But I think you're just tired, darling. You've exhausted yourself today, and you shouldn't look too hard into things like that. It's not healthy.' He considered telling her about the sleep-talking, but decided against it. It was just asking for more trouble. 'Now close your eyes and think of something nice.'

Lessie drifted off to sleep long before Frank did. He watched his beloved little mouse indulge in the rest that evaded him, captivated while she slept.

While she dreamed of Juniper.

Rocky Horror was fucking fantastic guys. Stephen Webb was fantastic as Frank and Kristan Lavercombe... well, he IS Riff Raff. 100% going again!

Alma Oakley