To Light and Guard

by TheFandomLesbian

Lana has emerged from hell with scars upon her body and her mind alike. Mary Eunice survived the exorcism, but the aftermath might tear her apart. They are Briarcliff's exiled, the world's outcasts. Can they heal together? Or will gravity crush the both of them? Bananun, M for mature content and strong language.

25. Chapter 25

The October sunset dimmed over the horizon as they all stood under the porch light, Mary Eunice shivering in her dress and Lana hovering beside her. The clock hadn't yet struck six, but as Lana surveyed the street left and right, a thought struck her. What if nobody comes? She pursed her lips at the prospect. If no one came? Well, she supposed she would invite Barb and Lois to stay for a few hours while they cleaned up all the candy Lana had purchased, and then she would know better for next year; no one wanted queer candy. In fact, she favored that possibility of the outcome of events. It required no outpouring of emotion from her, nor any effort except irritation at the general community prejudice.

However, her prayers went unanswered. As the clock struck six, a hoard of costume-clad minions appeared down the street. Mary Eunice's blue eyes flicked up to hers, and they inched apart like slugs. Goosebumps covered Mary Eunice's arms and legs, and she smoothed her hands over them to try to warm herself, but she couldn't quite manage. Lana longed to wrap her in a warm hug, especially clad in the heavy black weight of the habit, but with the public so near, she didn't dare risk such a move. The day in the park had passed. She was not invincible. These people knew her, they likely knew Mary Eunice from the newspaper, and Lana did not want harm to come to anyone on her account.

The first bundle of children toddled down the street, four or five of them with two women supervising. As the child in the lead turned on the sidewalk to head up the walk to Lana's porch, one of the adults grabbed him by the shoulder and redirected him. "Not there," she said. Her next words were inaudible, but she cast a loathing glance straight at Lana, flicked it to Mary Eunice, and snatched two of the children by the hands to keep them marching down the sidewalk like tiny soldiers headed into combat.

From behind her wax mask, Barb shot Lana a skeptical, sideways look. "Do you think it's going to be like this all night?" Lana shrugged in response, unable to meet her eyes. Maybe. It stung her insides. Wendy had always loved handing out candy with her; she adored seeing her students—former, current, and future—coming around the house all decked out in their beautiful costumes, loved to fill their buckets with candy and give them more than she and Lana had known as children growing in the depression. But things had changed. Wendy would never have wanted the house to be empty on Halloween. She swallowed hard, averting her gaze to the planks of the porch, and in spite of the heavy black habit, a shiver passed over her shoulders. A vacant porch on Halloween—perhaps it represented her life, void of all the joy she had once known and cherished.

"I'll get some lawn chairs from the shed," Mary Eunice said. She settled one arm on the inside of Lana's elbow and flashed a smile. It didn't reach her eyes, which had crinkles of concern at the edges, but the warm flush of her touch eased the knots in Lana's stomach. Her low heels clicked on the steps, and they squished through the damp grass, each footfall eliciting a mucky sound. Her exposed skin tinted red from the chill, crossed arms smoothing up and down one another to eliminate the goosebumps.

Once she rounded the corner of the house and was out of earshot, Lois said, "Maybe that dress wasn't a very good idea in this weather. She looks awfully cold. I wish Halloween was in July—that would be a lot more comfortable for everyone." She tutted in response, shaking her head. After a hesitant moment, she turned to peek at Lana through her Minnie Mouse mask. The shy look caught Lana's eye, and she straightened, a frown pursing upon her lips. "Lana, do you…" She squinted. "What do you think of Mary Eunice? Sister Mary Eunice, I mean."

"As opposed to the other Mary Eunice who isn't a Sister?" Barb said, voice dry, but she fell silent under Lois's sharp look.

Lana plucked her lower lip between her teeth. "What do you mean, what do I think of her?" Lois shrugged. Something's up. Her feigned nonchalance failed, dying somewhere in her eyes. "Is something the matter?" Lana glanced to Barb; though Lana couldn't make out her fine features behind the wax mask, Barb's eyes had fixed on Lois in equal confusion. "Did she tell you something? Is there something wrong with her?"

"No—No, of course not!" Lois took a few short steps to Lana's side and pressed a light palm to her shoulder. Good god, I'm tense. The massaging fingers gave her realization, and she sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to ease. "I'm just wondering. She talks to me, you know. Nothing bad, don't worry. But you know that girl absolutely worships you, Lana." Behind the heavy mask, Lois's brown eyes crinkled with some emotion Lana couldn't identify. She isn't telling me everything. All of Lana's journalistic senses tingled, sensing omissions at every word. "She loves you a whole lot. That's just why I was asking. I wondered if you thought the same of her—I mean, we both read your piece in the paper, but… I guess I was just curious."

Heart plummeting into the pit of her stomach, Lana gulped around a budding lump in her throat. Her mouth dried. She sucked her front teeth and traced her tongue over them; the smooth texture distracted from her words as she dared to part her lips and utter, "I love Mary Eunice, too. She's a great friend."

Barb's hard gaze landed on the side of her face; she refused to face the scrutinizing eyes. "Just a friend?" she pressed. "Girl, you look at her like the stars align on her face." Lana flinched. Am I so transparent? She lifted her gaze back to Barb's, obscure behind the plastic wax mask; it made her seem more distant, more foreign, less like a trusted friend and more like a stranger pressing for information; her heart startled in her chest, and she had to rip her gaze away from Barb's costume. Don't be stupid. You know Barb. You've known her for fifteen years. She couldn't settle her chest or stomach. What's the matter with me? "I don't mean anything by it, Lana, but—are you sure there isn't a little bit more there? Maybe than you want there to be?"

To her fortune, the familiar sound of Barb's voice grounded her. As long as she didn't look at the grotesque mask, she recognized her friend. It wasn't a bother just a few minutes ago. She couldn't explain why the anxiety spiked abruptly in her chest, but if she kept her eyes away, she could control it. Neither of the others noted Lana's distress as Lois protested, "Barb! Don't be like that!" Her voice lost its scolding appeal, becoming shrill and thin. Her hands wrung in front of her body, and she shuffled nearer to Lana. "You don't owe us anything, okay? I shouldn't have asked. It was silly. I didn't mean anything by it." Her throat flexed as she swallowed. "Just… I mean, you can tell us if you want, but—it's not our business." Brown eyes darted over Lana once. She really wants to know. But Lois didn't press any further, staring down at the porch, flicking a bit of dust off of it with her shoe.

Lana crossed her arms. She kept her gaze fixed on Lois's big toe where it tapped on the stone underfoot. "No, um…" She shook her head. Her raw lower lip stung where she had bitten it too much in her uncertainty, in her hesitance. "Barb's not wrong." She expected a question, or more than one, but they both remained silent. I've got the stage. She didn't know if she liked it or not; she didn't dare lift her gaze to see their judgment. Instead, her eyelids pinched closed, more comfortable there in her own personal darkness. "You can't tell her. It's stupid. I'm rebounding. I haven't had to go without loving someone—without having some kind of partner—since I was a kid. I met Victor when I was eighteen, and then Wendy, and…" Her throat closed up, and her eyes stung with tears. With her hand, she covered her mouth, pinched the tip of her nose until she knew she could control it. "I've never been alone before. It's not real. It can't be."

Lois violated the silence in one tender question. "Does it feel real?" She lifted her palm to press to Lana's shoulder, delicate but warm through the thin fabric of the habit, supportive so Lana wished to curl up in her embrace and hug her tight. She couldn't, of course, not outside the house, not with children on the street and parents shooting them wary glances. "Lana…" It does. It feels so real, it hurts. It hurts that I could love someone else so much when I still love Wendy as much as I ever did. "If it feels real, I—I think you should trust yourself. You can't hate yourself for feeling something. Mary Eunice is sweet, and she's kind, and she's special, and she's cute. Not that you want a relationship with her, or even that you should, but—if you care about her, that way, you ought to go with it. You shouldn't fight it."

"No—No, I can't." Lana shook her head in denial. She shrugged Lois's hand off of her shoulder; she grimaced at the hurt look Lois shot her in return, and she crossed her arms with a quiet huff. "It doesn't matter how I feel. She is untouchable. She's been off the market as long as I have." Her hands and feet refused to cease fidgeting and twitching against her will, no matter how she wished them to still. She curled her toes in her shoes.

To her surprise, Barb approached; Lana's eyes widened. She peeled the mask off of her face. "Ugh. It's hard to breathe in there." She folded it in her hands, toying with the plastic. "It does matter how you feel, you know." She didn't meet Lana's gaze. The rubber mask stretched and gave way under her fingers. "Lois is right. Mary Eunice is really great. It would take a crazy person not to fall in love with her eventually, and I don't even know her that well. You live with her. You sleep beside her every night. You can't do that with a person and not think they're special." Licking her chapped lips, she finally turned her head. Lana refused to meet her gaze, staring at her forehead instead. "You think it feels real. What does that feel like to you?"

It feels like the sun rises in her hair, and the noon sky lies in her eyes. It feels like her skin is the sand beside the ocean. It feels like her teeth are the pearls. It feels like her lips are the water, but they don't taste salty—they taste like her vanilla chapstick. It feels like the peace right before a light rain. Lana didn't trust Barb and Lois to understand any of that, nor did she want to admit to some of it; she couldn't give them access to any of Mary Eunice's secrets, not without her permission. Dabbing away a single tear with her index finger, she instead said, "If someone told me I could have Wendy back and Mary Eunice could take her place, I'm not certain which I would choose."

A low whistle rose from Barb's throat. "You got it bad, girl. You got it real bad. They say people fall in love, but I think you just dived off of that skyscraper downtown."

Lois shot her a withering look, and she fell silent. In a thin, nervous voice, Lois posed a suggestion; however, something else offset her gentleness, some emotion buried just below the surface, teasing Lana with its nearness. She's hiding something. "Have you thought about telling Mary Eunice how you feel?"

"Absolutely not!" Straightening her back, Lana cast an authoritarian look over the both of them. "I can't tell her anything. It would scare her. It's been hard enough for her, having to lose so much of what she believes for me. She trusts me as her friend, and I won't do anything to change that."

"Do you really think Mary Eunice is like that?" Tears sheened over Lois's eyes, desperation resting in those depths, though Lana struggled to take her seriously behind the Minnie Mouse mask. "She's been nothing but good to you, to all of us. You know what she's done to try and protect you better than we do. I don't think you need to worry about her being less than kind."

"She's done more than she should've done for me. I won't impose on her more than I already have."

Barb said, "We took her to a gay bar, and she didn't condemn anyone or burst into flames. I think she would be fine."

Cringing, Lana shook her head. "No, that's just—that's another thing. After what Rachel did to her…" She squeezed her hands together so tight, the knuckles bleached white. "There's no way."

"Mary Eunice knows you would never do anything like that. She knows you wouldn't hurt her. I told you, she thinks the world of you—she thinks you make the sun rise every morning, thinks the stars are in your eyes—"

"I said no!" Lana snapped. The tremble returned to her fingers; it rose from somewhere in her bones, a vibration, and the sinking sensation quivered in her lower gut. Her chest tightened. Don't do this right now. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and released it, long and slow. She tensed and then relaxed her muscles. "You can't tell her. I don't want her to know." Lois's eyes fell, but they both nodded mutely. "It's better this way, alright?" She scanned each of them, Barb unfolding the rubbery mask and slipping it back over her head. "Promise you won't tell her."

They each hummed a vague agreement, and a brief silence consumed them. The breeze rattled the dead tree, and the dry leaves scuttled across the pavement, though most of them had disintegrated for the autumn, branches of all the neighborhood trees barren. A few more groups of trick-or-treaters meandered up the street, turning to head up the walk to each house, and by the time Mary Eunice returned with the lawn chairs looped over her arms and mud stuck to her pretty heels, the first brave bunch approached.

Mary Eunice brightened. "Look at these little trailblazers!" She beamed. The children were all older, and they didn't have any adult supervision—probably the reason they'd come to door at all. "We've got a ghost, a vampire, Superman, Wonder Woman, and… who are you?"

The bright-eyed girl proudly puffed up, tossing back her ginger pigtails. "I'm Jenny. My mom says I should be true to myself no matter what."

The other adults giggled—even Lois, who detested children, muffled her laughter behind her hand—but Mary Eunice flashed a simple smile and nodded in serious agreement. "That's some very good advice. Your mom must be a very smart woman." Lana distributed a handful of candy into each of their bags, perhaps a little more generously than she should have. It's not like many other kids are going to turn up. Might as well give them extra.

The ghost, a black boy disguising his skin color under the sheet with two eye-holes cut in it, asked, "Miss, are you Jane Fonda?"

Mary Eunice's face froze in the smile, and she turned back to glance at Lana, confusion lighting her eyes; to her relief, the vampire said, "Don't be silly! She's clearly Marilyn Monroe!" Jenny and Superman offered their thanks while the others squibbled, one asking, "Marilyn who?" and another insisting, "She's Brigitte Bardot!" and another saying, "Nuh-uh, the hair isn't right at all."

As they passed from earshot, Lois huffed, eyes narrowed. "I like the vampire one. The rest are silly. Jane Fonda—she looks nothing like Jane Fonda—"

"Who is Jane Fonda?" Mary Eunice asked.

"She's not Marilyn Monroe, that's who she is!" Everyone gave a burst of laughter at Lois's frustration, and as Barb settled a hand on her arm, she relaxed, shrugging off the touch as the next bunch turned from the sidewalk to approach Lana's house.

The faces came and went; as the minutes wore on, more and more people gained the courage to swing from the street and gather their candy and well-wishes from the ragtag bunch. A mother came with four children attached to her on a string of baling twine, all tied at the belt; they cried, "Trick or treat!" and Barb dropped a couple bits of candy into each of their bags. But, before they turned away, the woman hesitated. "Miss Winters?"

Oh no. Lana's eyes widened. The voice wasn't confrontational, but she'd learned better than to trust the people around her; Mary Eunice flanked her, smile vanishing from her face, as Barb's cold eyes set upon her. She lifted her hands, exposing her palms in innocence. Her throat visibly flexed. She said, "I—I just wanted to say I think you're a real hero." The last word sent ease trickling through the group. Mary Eunice relaxed. Barb's hard gaze softened. "I know the community hasn't been kind to you. It's easier for those who didn't lose anyone, but—" She closed her eyes and forced a smile onto her mouth. I know what that feels like. Lana was no stranger to pressing a smile onto her lips and watching as the world purchased it and passed it along without any heed. "I want my kids to grow up and be like you. Someone who will make a change for the better, no matter what anybody else has to say about it."

The bundle of nerves in the pit of Lana's stomach settled, much to her surprise. "I—um, thank you." She couldn't remember feeling so speechless before in her life.

"Thank you." The woman tugged her baling twine and herded her children away, back down the sidewalk

"Has anybody ever said anything like that before?" Lois asked.

Lana shook her head. "Never."

"They should," Barb said.

More kids streamed at them, some young enough to fit in strollers, some far too old to wear those costumes and gather the candy; none of the adults said anything, until a familiar face dragged along two children with a frizzy-haired woman on her arm. The suit cinched in Jasmine's front, blocking her chest. A tie tucked down into her suit coat, she escorted the children, herding them down the sidewalk, and at her feet, they cheered, "Dad, dad, dad!" in a million different demands and requests and questions.

The women all ogled, lips parted, staring at their friend—at this new version of her. Lana had never seen her like this before. I don't even know what name to call her. Lois cleared her throat. "Nick!" Is that it? Jasmine nodded, glancing at the others, panic filtering into her eyes.

Lana bumped Mary Eunice at the elbow, nudged her into action. "It's good to see you, Nick." The name tasted bad on the tip of her tongue. "Are you guys having a good night?"

"'Course we are, Miz Winters. The white neighborhood has been good to us. I got a tip-off on which houses to avoid." She cleared her throat as Mary Eunice dropped a large handful of candy into each child's bag, giving animated speech to them. "This is my wife, April—April, these are my friends I told you about. And these are my children, Aaliyah and Jayden."

"It's nice to meet you all," April said.

The little girl, Aaliyah, peeked up at Mary Eunice from behind a thick curtain of curls. "You're so pretty…" she said, awe in her voice and in her large round eyes. Mary Eunice thanked her quietly, but the awestruck hands caught onto the front of her dress. "I wanna be pretty just like you when I grow up."

April stepped forward, an apology already on her lips, but Mary Eunice didn't shoo the child away from her. "You're already beautiful, just the way you are," she reassured the girl. "You don't want to be pretty like me. You want to be pretty like you. You're always the most beautiful when you love yourself. And don't ever let anyone tell you different."

Wow. Lana watched, impressed into silence, as the girl threw her arms around Mary Eunice's waist and Mary Eunice hugged her in turn. But no amount of support kept April from apologizing as Aaliyah returned to her side; Mary Eunice tried to reassure her, but she didn't listen, rushing both kids back down the steps. Jasmine cleared her throat. "I'll see you folks later. C'mon, guys. More houses to hit up. We're losing sunlight."

As their silhouettes headed down the street, Barb whispered, "Was it just me, or was that really weird? Seeing—Seeing Jasmine like that, I mean." They all nodded in a silent agreement. "It's just unnatural. Where was the dress? Where was the makeup? She hadn't even shaved all the way…" Barb scratched at her chin, pinching it, and she swallowed hard. "She has a point, though. What time is it? Seems like we've been out here for awhile."

Lois peeked back into the house at the wall clock. "It's seven-thirty," she said. "Looks like we'll have plenty of extra candy, at any rate. More for us, right?" She poured the two bowls into one.

"So, Sister, you really like kids?" Barb asked.

Mary Eunice shrugged, but she rubbed the back of her neck in discomfort. "I—Not really," she admitted after a moment's hesitance. "No, I don't like children. No more than adults, anyway." She licked her lips. "But I would never mistreat a child because I don't like them. I think they're people, not commodities. And I think a lot of adults tend to forget that—what it was like to be a child."

Barb nodded, slow and considerate. As the twilight settled over the neighborhood, she peeled off her mask. "God, I hate that thing. I feel all itchy. Breathing in my own breath all night. Sweating on myself, too." She scoffed. "And for what? Nobody even showed up. I was worried about reporters turning up and throwing us on the front page of the newspaper or something, and instead we just got a bunch of leftover candy." She paused for a moment. "Man, I really am itchy." She scratched at the side of her face with her fingernails until Lois went to her aid. "No, no, I'm fine. It's just itchy. It's just itchy, really." Beneath the porchlight, she rubbed her eyes with her balled fists, trying to dodge Lois's combing fingers where they worked across her swollen, hot skin. "I've got sweat running into my eyes. Do you know how bad your own breath begins to taste and smell after you inhale it for ninety minutes? I feel like I need to brush my teeth or something."

"No, Barb, hold still. You're getting a rash. It's cropping up on your cheeks. You must have an allergy to some kind of rubber, something in that mask. Stop touching it." Lois swatted it away from her and passed it off to Lana, who grimaced at the sticky texture. It feels too real. Her stomach flipped. Mary Eunice took it from her. Blue eyes fixed on her under the dim light. She didn't say anything, didn't even mouth the words, but Lana could hear her voice in her head asking, Are you okay? "C'mon, you're coming inside. I need to look at this under the bathroom light and put some cream on it." Lois took Barb by the arm and dragged her to the door. "We'll be back in a few minutes. Don't get any awesome trick-or-treaters without us, okay?"

They vanished into the house. In their wake, they left silence. No more bodies prowled under the streetlights; almost all of the children had retreated back into the safety of their homes, leaving the street deserted. Other neighbors killed their outside light and returned inside. But Lana sank back to sit in one of the lawn chairs, and Mary Eunice perched beside her. Lana reached over the arm of the chair to brush her fingertips against the back of Mary Eunice's hand. She offered her palm in turn, and their fingers clasped loosely, folded fingers into valleys. Holding her hand is easy, Lana acknowledged; it didn't evoke fear from her, didn't make her scan the street for any watchers, didn't send her crawling back into the shadows where they could cradle one another in privacy, safe from the judgment of others. "I'm alright," she said.

Her reflection gazed back at her in Mary Eunice's crystalline eyes, deep as the ocean; not for the first time, her writer's brain compared those eyes to a pond flecked with algae, somewhere peaceful and quiet and distant from all difficult realities of her life. Maybe Barb and Lois are right. Maybe I should tell her. Lana's tongue darted out across her lips, hesitant and dry, and she couldn't maintain eye contact any longer. Concern furrowed on Mary Eunice's brow as Lana began to withdraw her hand. She didn't resist. Instead, she asked in her low, croaking voice, "Are you sure?"

No. I can't. As selfish as it was, Lana wouldn't risk losing Mary Eunice, not even to tell her the truth. Not even if it meant lying to her. "It's hard," she said, easing into another subject in her own mind. Mary Eunice didn't notice the difference—or, if she did, she didn't confront Lana over it. "Doing these things without her. Holidays." She grated her teeth against the budding lump in her throat. Mentioning Wendy revived all of her insecurities about these new feelings she harbored toward Mary Eunice. Was it disloyal? No. Wendy would want me to be happy. She couldn't shake the prospect of infidelity, no matter how she knew Wendy's spirit, whatever plane she occupied, would not want Lana to suffer over the uncontrollable feelings which boiled every time Mary Eunice touched her. "And this is just Halloween." She picked at the arm of her chair with absent fingernails, peeling the paint off of the plastic. "Thanksgiving is coming—then Christmas." She drummed the toes of her shoes on the stone of the porch in a few low clicking noises. "We always did those things together. Just us. Since everybody else headed home to their families, it was always just—just me and her. It's hard to imagine doing those things without her."

Sorrow filled Mary Eunice's face, just as real and true as it shivered inside Lana's stomach; she could have sworn, looking into those melancholy eyes, Mary Eunice had known and grieved Wendy the same as anyone else who had loved her in her life. "I'm sorry, Lana." She offered her hand, and Lana took it. Indulge yourself. You've earned it. You've earned these good feelings. "I—I know it is little comfort for you, and I'm sorry. But I'm going to be here for both of those things, and for as long as you want." Mary Eunice cleared her throat; it was hoarse from the overuse of her voice, speaking to the kids all night. "I know I can't replace Wendy—I don't want to. She was everything I can't be, and more, and I would do anything…" She drifted off into silence as Lana shook her head, squeezing the tips of the pale fingers tightly.

"You are enough." The words arose with more conviction than Lana expected, and her eyes widened at the seriousness of her tone, but she didn't amend it; she meant it in the full, strict tone. "You—just the way you are. I don't compare the two of you. It's like apples and oranges." Exactly like apples and oranges, except I can't eat the apple, and the orange is rotten. "Me loving Wendy doesn't mean I love you any less for it. You know more about love than anyone. Does God put a limit on the number of people He can love?"

"Of course not." A wrinkle formed between Mary Eunice's eyes in her forehead as she considered the analogy; Lana knew immediately it was a mistake to make a theological reference. Trust the nun to overthink any reference to God, Jesus, angels, or other forms of holiness. She bit her lower lip, waiting for some question she doubted she would be able to answer. But a smile eased the perplexed frown, all of her features relaxing, losing the tension carried deep in her face. The corners of her eyes crinkled with her genuine expression. "I finally got you to admit it." Lana arched an eyebrow at her in return. Mary Eunice grinned. Her eyebrows wiggled with the suggestion. "You're God." She winked playfully.

Lana rolled her eyes skyward. "Oh, for the love of—"

"You?"

"Shut up!"

"Is that the eleventh commandment?"

Lana swatted her. Mary Eunice giggled, the sweet, musical sound which Lana cherished in her soul, the one which made her heart flounder with joy, which made her feet dance to the rhythm stirred by her own heart. She leaned over in the lawn chair to drag her fingers across Mary Eunice's abdomen. The tickling elicited the familiar whoop of laughter; Mary Eunice doubled-over at the waist, her whole face drawn back in joy. The urge to tackle her, to pin her to the floor and make her beg for mercy, rose in Lana's chest—she adored the proximity it granted her, their tickle fights, how close she could get without explanation and how much Mary Eunice would laugh, more liberated than she looked at any other point in time—but she buried it deep in her chest. She couldn't do it here, outside the house, where others could see; she couldn't do it now, with Barb and Lois just inside, sure to witness something and suspect more afoot.

In a firm grip, Mary Eunice's hand caught Lana's. Lana froze. All the joy rushed from her face; her skin drained of color. "What?" Lana asked in a bare whisper.

"I thought I heard something." She rose from the lawn chair; her feet slipped out of the heels, toes white from the cold, and pressed to the porch, creeping on the balls of her feet so her steps made not a sound. "Did you…?" She peeked back at Lana.

A glimmer of fear laid in her blue eyes, but Lana couldn't manage to linger on her face as she shook her head, surveying the street. The bright porch light made everything surrounding darker to her eyes. We're sitting here like blind ducks. Lana also stood, shuffling nearer to Mary Eunice. "No," she said. She strained her ears for anything. The crickets sang too loudly in the shrubs; the sweet whistling muffled other sounds. At the skittering of dry leaves on the street, Lana flinched. Her heart shuddered in her chest, springing to life. Her every breath sounded too loudly in her own ears. When she tried to hold it, dizziness spiraled around her. "Maybe we should go inside."

Mary Eunice nodded, but her feet had glued themselves to the porch, refusing to relinquish the grip; if she moved, she feared the ground would collapse into lava. Don't be silly. It was just something in the bushes. You shouldn't panic. "Yeah," she echoed. She lifted on dainty foot and turned, turned just a smidge, angled herself slightly at Lana. A twitch of movement in the shrubs made her eyes widen. A question framed Lana's lips into a purse, but before she could utter a word, the world erupted.

In a flurry of dead leaves, two figures sprang from the bushes—two Bloody Faces, each lunging at a woman with outstretched hands. Mary Eunice shrieked. Lana shrank; in her peripheral vision, Mary Eunice watched her shrivel like a dehydrated plant, hands flying up to shield her face. One of the men seized Lana by the veil of the habit. He dragged her by the hair. "No!" Mary Eunice grabbed Lana around the waist and hauled her back. The veil and coif slipped free. Another hand closed around Mary Eunice's arm. She sank her teeth into it. Inside the house, Gus howled and snarled, helpless to protect them—safety lay just out of reach for the two.

The man recoiled. Mary Eunice spat his blood. At the other approaching predator, she hurled the bucket of Halloween candy. Lana had frozen like a tiny, white ice sculpture, immobile and petrified; like Lot's wife overlooking the burning city, she had become a pillar of salt. Mary Eunice ripped the door open and shoved Lana through it, slamming and locking it in her wake. "Lana—" She didn't recognize the twisted texture of her own voice, so raw, angry and frightened, caught in all of the memories of Bloody Face—It can't be; he's dead! She grappled for Lana, but her hands found no grip. Her tunnel vision had stolen everything from her, leaving her disoriented. Every shadow leapt for her. She screamed again when Gus pounced at her feet, seeking to comfort her, to guard her. Where is Lana?

Barb charged at her. Mary Eunice didn't see from which direction she had come, couldn't see anything beyond her own gray haze of terror. "What happened?" Barb demanded; her voice expanded into a shriek, a snarl. "What happened? What's out there?" Hands fastened on Mary Eunice's waist and shook her. "Talk to me!"

"Buh-Buh-Buh—" Mary Eunice's tripping tongue refused to craft the words. Tears stung her cheeks. She shivered from head to toe. It can't be. It can't be Bloody Face. Where is Lana? She yearned for Lana, needed her. Somewhere in the gray, Lois's voice rose, words indiscernible. I think I'm going to puke. She covered her mouth with her hand and wiped her tears with a quivering gasp. "Bloody Face!" Barb and Lois exchanged a skeptical look. "Don't—Don't—" Neither of them heeded Mary Eunice's warning as they spun to charge out the front door, Gus alongside them, closing it behind them. It rattled in the frame. The silence lingered in their absence.

Broken gasps for breath violated the wary peace. Mary Eunice followed the sound, the sobs, the pants, the cries, with only one thought teaming through her mind, repeating itself, a mantra, a rallying cry: Lana, Lana, Lana. The name drove her every step down the hallway. Lana, Lana, Lana. Love muddled with the confusion in her head, the terror in her heart, the swirling of her gut. Lana, Lana, Lana. In the bedroom, she spied the crumpled figure pressed all the way in the back corner between the chest of drawers and the wall. Her hair hung in rank tangles around her face, the black habit crinkled beneath her. She tremored from head to toe. She choked on each shaking breath. Her hands covered her face, whatever weak protection she thought they could offer. "Lana?" Mary Eunice's voice was foreign to her own ears, something raw and gnarled; Lana didn't indicate she had heard. "Lana?" she repeated, tiptoeing nearer across the shag carpet.

Gently, she eased herself to sit beside Lana. A wet stain discolored the front of her habit. The stench of urine rose from her body, pale and frail. "Lana," Mary Eunice repeated, forcing herself to ease the tone of her voice. Still, Lana didn't respond, immersed in her shaking, her gasping, her terror. Mary Eunice extended a hand to rest on her shoulder.

Lana howled in response to the gentle touch, recoiling like a kicked dog. She slapped Mary Eunice's hand away. "Duh-Don't tuh-touch—" Her mangled words held so much heat, so much hatred. She's confused. She doesn't know where she is. "Please," Lana begged. Her red-streaked face crumpled. Nothing could muffle her desperate gasps for breath; her complexion grew whiter and whiter under the dim lights. Each breath whistled on its exit and choked on the following entrance. Glazed eyes saw nothing, focused on nothing, so caught in the memory or the fantasy.

Desperation swelled up in Mary Eunice's stomach. I don't know what to do. Her hands fluttered in the air around Lana's body, but she didn't dare touch her again, not after the way she'd reacted the first time. "Lana," she said, louder, shakier, a plea she didn't know how to craft. "Lana, it's me—please—" Her eyes swam with tears, making her vision fuzzy and pixelated. I don't know how to help you. "Can you hear me?" Lana didn't respond. Mary Eunice leaned her head against the wall, her whole face screwing up as she tried to think of another way to reach Lana in her hysteria. Gus licks her face. That always helps. Bracing herself for blowback, Mary Eunice extended a hand and pressed it to Lana's cheek.

She shrieked again, coiling up and tossing her arms over her head to try and defend herself. Pain ripped up from Mary Eunice's stomach all the way to her chest, anguish at causing Lana's terror. She wanted to withdraw. Is this the right thing? "Lana!" She shifted closer, pinning Lana back in the corner. Lana thrashed. "Stop it—Lana, stop! You're going to hurt yourself!" Looping her other arm around Lana's shoulders, she pressed her body against Lana's, enduring the shuddering of limbs. Tears poured down her face. "Lana—Lana, please—" The heaving body gradually ceased its large, hurled movements, but the tremors refused to abate, and the fast-paced breaths whistled in and out of her lungs all the same. "Lana, it's me." She shifted to press against Lana's chest, the other hand wiping the sweat, snot, and tears from her face. "It's me."

Her eyes glinted with something, something akin to recognition but not fully coherent, like some part of her still laid far out of reach of her logical mind. "Suh-Suh-Suh—" Her tongue stumbled over its attempt to form a word, and she shook her head in denial, opening and closing her mouth. She gulped at the air, swallowed it, and hiccups accompanied her sobs and her tremors and her cries for relief. One hand closed around Mary Eunice's wrist and tightened so hard, she feared bruises would crop up in its wake. But she didn't dare sever, not when Lana clung to her through her shivering, weeping panic. Lana's other hand pressed to her own chest. Her eyes stretched wide as saucers, her gaze flicking left and right and up and down and focusing on nothing at all, even when her beautiful, deep brown eyes dared to linger. "Sun—"

Only with this word did Mary Eunice realize Lana's intention behind the weak stammers. "Yes—yes, sunshine, sunshine's here!" She stroked Lana's hot cheek with her thumb, drawing patterns there under the pad. "I love you so much, Lana, I do. Just listen to my voice, alright? Just listen to me. I love you, I don't want you to be afraid." Lana continued to grunt and whimper, unable to form words. "It's okay. It's okay now." Is it? Are those men actually harmless? Did they hurt Barb and Lois? Should I be calling the police? Mary Eunice didn't have any answers. She only knew she wanted to, needed to provide comfort to Lana. "I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise. I swear it, as long as I live, nobody will harm you." How are you going to keep that promise? she asked herself, chewing on her lower lip. Any way I must, she answered internally. She would do anything to protect Lana—she already had in more ways than she could number. "I'm going to protect you." Her voice shook, and she loathed herself for it. I am so weak. I am powerless. I am nothing compared to you. All of her insecurities swamped her mind and her chest like water flowing into her lungs and stifling them. "Lana, it's okay, just—just take a deep breath—"

The advice failed as Lana choked on her breath and began to cough. She shook her head, drool stringing out of her mouth. Mary Eunice wiped it away with her hand. Her own tears fell faster, but she refused to give in. I don't know what else to do! Lana lifted the wrist she gripped so tightly and placed the palm of that hand on her other cheek. Her body quaked with such force, she almost lost control of her arms entirely. Mary Eunice took the encouragement and shifted closer, drawing herself up right in front of Lana; she pecked a kiss onto her forehead. "Yes, cupcake, I know." She couldn't smell the urine stench clinging to Lana anymore for the blockage in her own nose. "I know you're scared—I'm scared, too." I'm more scared of this, of you becoming this way, than I am of any punk teenager in a mask. The helplessness and desperation swarmed her lower belly, and she didn't say those words. Instead, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against Lana's, eyes closed. "Please, Lana…" Mary Eunice couldn't stop saying the name. How sweetly it rolled off of her tongue, how many prayers lay in those two syllables, how much faith she held in the way her lips framed the name like lullaby. She drew comfort from Lana's very name. "Try to think of something else, think of—of Gus, at the park, with the rabbit! And how nice it was, with the breeze, and all the colors with the leaves, and how good it smelled…" I could smell you. We were close enough so I could smell your perfume.

Lana managed to frame a protest. "I cuh-cuh-cuh—" Mary Eunice understood without her finishing the word: I can't. Her sweaty palm opened and closed, tightened and loosened, where it gripped Mary Eunice's upper arm. Her eyes wouldn't still from their flicking. She yelped, this time not under Mary Eunice's hand; her expression glazed with pain. "Muh-My chuh-chuh—"

"Your chest?" Mary Eunice asked. "Does it hurt?" Lana nodded and dragged herself into Mary Eunice's lap; Mary Eunice received her with open arms, but when she tried to cinch them around Lana's middle, smooth them up and down her back, Lana grunted a protest. I don't know what to do, her insides wailed. I don't know what to do to help you. I don't know how to fix it! She stroked a hand over Lana's tangled, sweat-soaked hair. Her jaw trembled so hard, she bit her tongue. She retracted it and licked the roof of her mouth, swallowing the blood. Dear God, please bring Lana peace. She closed her eyes tight. Without her vision, Lana became more real, squirming, alive, sweating, panting, hot from head to toe, cradled against Mary Eunice's body like a hungry infant. Please ease her suffering. Please make the path she walks easier than the ones she's navigated in the past. Please give her strength. "Lana, I—I don't know what to do, I don't know how I can help you." Please guide me in being her friend. Please don't punish her because my heart has strayed from its righteous path. Lana's quivering, wet face pressed into the crook of Mary Eunice's neck. "I…" She sucked in a deep breath through her mouth and released it just as slowly. Memory tingled in her mind, and she grappled for a quote—something she knew, now, did not bring any comfort to Lana, but it brought comfort to her. Lana didn't believe, and she had good reason not to, but none of that could change Mary Eunice's mind. "Thus saith the Lord that created thee, and the Lord that formed thee, fear not, for I have redeemed thee—" Her voice broke. She choked on a sob. "I have called thee by thy name." Lana, Lana, a beautiful name. Mary Eunice fought to remain steady and intelligible in her words; she had already betrayed all of her emotion. "Thou—Thou art mine." She isn't mine. But I wish she was.

Shifting, Mary Eunice positioned Lana differently beside her. Lana's breathing refused to calm, even with the influence, and those claw-like hands became vices wherever they fixed to Mary Eunice's body. Lana's tongue continued to trip over its buffering syllables, all clumsy and heaving inside her mouth. The floor boomed underfoot. Gus barreled down the hall ahead of the summoning voices. "Lana? Sister?" called Barb and Lois intermittently. Gus leapt upon Mary Eunice and Lana; Lana cried out when he landed in her lap, and Mary Eunice dragged him back by his collar, admonishing him while Lana reached for Mary Eunice again, the way a blind woman grappled for her cane, the way a drowning victim strained for a raft.

Lois found them first. "Barb! They're in here!" Barb appeared beside her, face cast into shadow. She glanced once at them before she whispered something to Lois, out of Mary Eunice's earshot, and turned on her heel to head back up the hall. Lois tiptoed across the carpet. At some point, she had discarded her Minnie Mouse mask, and her red hair hung in clumps over her gray costume. Her shadow fell across Lana's body. Lana whimpered and cringed, a dog bracing itself for a kick; Lois froze, and then she sank down, sitting across from them on the floor, not close enough to disturb Lana from where her panicked body heaved and shed sheets of sweat. "It was just a couple teenagers," she said, voice low and eyes dark with seriousness. "Gus got one of them—the one who stole your, uh, your—"

She made a gesture with her hand over her hair, and Mary Eunice provided, "Veil," as she stroked the back of Lana's hand, the only part of her body which didn't stiffen and rebuke Mary Eunice's touch. My habit is the last thing I'm worried about right now. She didn't say the words. She appreciated that Barb and Lois had recovered it, anyway; she couldn't imagine trying to explain this story to Father Joseph or to the Monsignor. "Yes, I let Lana wear my habit as a Halloween costume," would certainly earn her a punishment, if not a dismissal from her position. Her stomach quivered with fear at the prospect.

"Yeah. That," Lois agreed, dim, eyes averted. "They won't be back." Her eyes darted back to Lana. Pearly teeth nibbled on her lower lip, hesitant as she regarded Lana; she glanced to Mary Eunice, uncertain, afraid. One hand extended to pat Mary Eunice's knee. The small, tender gesture sent another tear sliding down Mary Eunice's cheek. "I can call the police if you want. Barb and I will talk to them." I don't know. Helpless, Mary Eunice glanced to the side of Lana's face, but Lana either couldn't hear or couldn't respond. Mary Eunice shook her head. No one can see her like this. We don't need anymore attention. Lois's gaze followed Mary Eunice's concerned look at Lana, though she didn't stare or impose herself. "Barb went to get her Valium from the car. It should help her calm down."

Lana doesn't want to use drugs. Mary Eunice's face crumpled. She couldn't do this. She couldn't keep choosing between her loyalty to Lana and her urge to protect Lana's well-being. Her head bobbed in a broken nod. "Thank you," she managed, a bare whisper. She wiped away her tears with the back of one hand; Lana had removed a vice-like hand to press against her own shuddering chest. "Lana," she said. "Lana, your chest hurts because of how you're breathing—" She knows that, you're just telling her things she knows, it isn't her fault she can't control it! Mary Eunice gulped the hard knot in her throat. The hateful inner voice, the one which sounded so similar to the evil she had banished from her soul, never failed to rise at her most vulnerable points. "Try to slow down. There's no one here to hurt you. Try to take a deep breath."

Lana sucked at the air like a too-thick milkshake through the straw. She inhaled her own stringing, thick saliva and coughed. Her flushed, patchy face grew more irritated and red. "That's okay, that's okay," Mary Eunice said in her soft, low voice. "Try again." She did, and this time she only hiccuped. "Good." Mary Eunice wiped away the snot from Lana's nose and tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She's getting control of herself again. But her attacks had never struck so forcefully before, had never lasted so long. This one set a bad precedent. "Do it again, with me."

Barb entered the room with her face drawn up tight, a rash blistered across both cheeks. She clutched a bottle of pills in her left hand and unscrewed the cap. "Give her one of these." They spoke in soft whispers, like if they kept their voices low enough, Lana wouldn't hear, though she sat right in front of them. Mary Eunice opened her palm and took a single tablet, which she dropped into Lana's mouth. Lana sputtered in surprise, but her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Barb sat down beside Lois. "Give that a few minutes."

The few minutes passed with excruciating lethargy; each second couldn't work up the energy to pass onto the next, each minute taking hours to make the clock tick. But Lana eased with Mary Eunice's quiet encouragement. Her body sagged, head resting against Mary Eunice's shoulder. Her clothes had soaked to the skin with her sweat; her hair hung in wet tangles around her face. The tremors ended in her extremities, her fingers and her lips, but she managed to calm her larger body parts and steady herself. Mary Eunice embraced her, and Lana didn't resist. Instead, she hummed an approving note. Her eyelids fluttered, but she kept her eyes closed, the lashes brushing against Mary Eunice's face. Oh, Lana. She had a thousand things she wanted to say, a thousand admissions of love to proclaim, a thousand regrets to craft, but she remained silent, even as Lana nuzzled against her jaw with lips puckered, nose bumping its way up from her jawbone to her cheek. A grunt rose from her throat. Mary Eunice understood the message well enough. So, in spite of the company and their watchful eyes, she turned her head and pressed a delicate kiss to Lana's lips. Lana leaned into the caress of Mary Eunice's mouth on hers. A desperate sigh flushed from her nose. Her weak arms fastened around Mary Eunice's neck and refused to relinquish their hold. I don't know if she wants Barb and Lois to see this. Mary Eunice swallowed hard. I don't know if I want Barb and Lois to see this. Fear curled in her gut, fear of rebuke, fear of them thinking she wanted to replace Wendy. Wendy would know what to do right now. She prayed for a shred of the gravitas Wendy would have used in this situation, a smattering of guidance, as she slowly severed the kiss and allowed Lana to curl up against her, their foreheads and noses bumping.

Lana drifted back down, a wilted leaf withering up in the sun, but she kept her arms looped around Mary Eunice. Mary Eunice didn't retreat from her embrace. She lifted her eyes to Barb and Lois where they observed, the former ogling, the latter with tears glimmering in her golden-brown eyes. She swallowed hard as she made eye contact with Barb, expecting a rebuke, an outcry, some protest from the intimacy she and Lana had shared. But as she met Barb's eyes, Barb merely shook her head; she accepted the silence as she scooted nearer. "Lana," she addressed quietly, and Lana's thick eyelashes fluttered, tired eyes widening when she focused on Barb and Lois in front of her. She didn't look surprised, but rather enlightened, like their presence had made her reach an epiphany. "How do you feel?" Barb asked.

"Drained," Lana croaked in response. Oh, Lana. Mary Eunice's heart broke at the uttered word. I wish her burden could be mine instead. I wish I could take it all myself and let her be free. Lana allowed her eyes to drift shut again, resting her head on Mary Eunice's shoulder as she hummed a soft note. "I'm sorry you had to see that." Her breath teased Mary Eunice's cheek and chin. Goosebumps erupted in its wake.

Lois frowned. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Sweetie, you don't have to apologize to us. We're your friends. We want to support you. We want to take care of you." Lana gave another noncommittal grunt, like she lacked the energy to do anything else, to provide a real answer or even to thank them for staying. She needs to rest. I'll get her some clean pajamas and put her to bed. Gus slithered forward, and this time, Mary Eunice didn't bat him away; Lana teased his ears with her free hand, straining her face away from where his tongue fought to reach. "Lana, sweetheart…" A single tear fell from Lois's eye. She wiped it away on her knuckle. "You can't live like this. You know that, right?"

"Like what?" In a disinterested voice, Lana asked the words, her eyes closing. The eyelashes brushed Mary Eunice's neck. She's tired. Don't do this to her now. Don't make her talk about it now. Mary Eunice bit her tongue. She knew Lois and Barb had better standing than she did, more to offer the discussion. Maybe things would look up, now. Maybe Lana would decide to get the help she needed.

"In fear. You can't live so nervous, and tense, and on edge. It's not healthy."

"I'm fine." No, Lana, you're not. You're not fine.

Lois didn't relent. "You need help, Lana. Real, professional help." Lana set her jaw with an audible click, and Lois's features tightened in response, her eyes pinching at the corners and lips quirking downward. Her nostrils flared in a subtle exhale. She wiped at the corners of her eyes with her knuckles, and she shook her head. "Don't. Lana, don't look that way. Listen to me. You need to see a doctor. This, this isn't good. You're going to wind up hurting yourself, or—or giving yourself a heart attack, or—"

"I'm fine," Lana repeated. She lifted her brown eyes from Mary Eunice's shoulder, glittering with something dark and hard as diamonds—hatred and fear, revulsion at the suggestion, incredulity that Lois would dare to suggest it so openly. "I don't need the help of any shrink. Doctors have done enough to get me into this mess." Lois opened her mouth to argue, but as Lana's mouth twisted down into a snarl, her protest died on her lips. "What do you know, anyway? You sweep hair for a living!"

Lois recoiled at the sharp words, and Barb interjected with a harsh, "Hey!" She said it like one would dissuade an aggressive dog from misbehaving. "Don't talk to her that way! She wants to help you, which is better than you can say for yourself!" Lana hissed. Her hand twisted up in Mary Eunice's and squeezed tight. The sweat of their palms mingled and lingered in the warmth of two moist skins. She wants me to support her. Mary Eunice's eyes stung at the realization. How could she choose between her two loyalties to Lana—the one to preserve her mental health and the other to preserve their friendship, their shared trust? Barb's gaze fell to where their hands caught before it lifted back to Lana's face. "And, for your information, I'm a nurse, and I agree with her. You need help. I don't know what bug crawled up your ass, but your problems aren't Lois's fault!"

Lois offered a cautioning word to her girlfriend. Barb softened a little, but her eyes held the hardness of offense. I know what that feels like, Mary Eunice thought. She had felt those emotions in her belly and chest whenever she defended Lana from her many assailants. If anyone spoke to Lana that way, Mary Eunice wouldn't have liked it, not at all. Worry troubled her lips. Barb's frustration was justifiable. She squeezed Lana's hand in spite of the knowledge; Lana needed the solidarity and the unity. In a quieter voice, Barb said, "There's no shame in getting help. I don't know if someone told you so, or if you decided it on your own, but… No one is going to judge you for taking some medication so you don't have another panic attack, or for seeing a therapist once a week to talk about what you're feeling. Nobody will even know except the people you want to know. It'll be perfectly safe!"

Lana's face screwed up like she tasted something bitter. "No." Eyes narrow, she tightened her vice-like grip on Mary Eunice's hand. "Tell them," she said, nudging her, prompting her. Mary Eunice swallowed a dry budding lump in her throat. I can't. I don't know what to tell them. I don't know what to say. Her big eyes landed on Lois and then flicked to Barb, both of them expectant. "Sunshine." A pleading note dragged onto the end of Lana's tired voice. "Sunshine, tell them I'm alright. I don't need anything—I'm fine. I've got you."

Tears poured into her eyes and filled them to the brim. You've got me, but I'm not enough. I'm not enough to help you, to save you, to make you better. Her words choked in her throat; a sob threatened to rip from her if she made a sound. "Lana, I…" All three of them fixed eyes on her. "I love you, I do." More than anything else in the whole world. More than I've ever loved anyone. More than I love God. The blasphemous but honest thought gnarled her guts. "And I think—I think you need help." Hot tears raced in streams down her cheeks. Lana stiffened like Mary Eunice had jabbed her with a cattle prod. Her hand retreated. Mary Eunice's grappled in the empty air, burning and aching and yearning in its absence. "I'll be anything you need me to be—do anything—but this is getting worse! I don't know how to help you! I'm not enough!"

Lana ripped away as Mary Eunice's sobbed words died into a mumbled trickle. Lana, I'm sorry. She couldn't manage the apology, no matter how much she wanted to utter, no matter how she wanted to beg forgiveness like she would if she had sinned against God. For all of Mary Eunice's teasing and jokes, Lana was not God. Mary Eunice couldn't repent and clear the air between them anew once more. Shaky, Lana rose to her feet, rubbery knees and ankles threatening to dump her back onto the carpet. "I can't believe you." Her voice cracked. She stormed past them into the bathroom and slammed the door shut with such force, it rocked in the door frame. The lock gave an audible click.

I messed up. Mary Eunice buried her face in her hands to muffle her next sob, to restrain it, to keep it silent. I messed up, I messed up so bad. Lana would never trust her again. Lana would never love her again. Lana would kick her out. Where could she go? She hadn't the first clue, not even who she could call, which direction she could walk. "Oh, sweetie…" Lois sighed the words as Mary Eunice crumbled like a collapsing bridge, dropping bricks and beams into the river of tears below. She crawled to sit beside Mary Eunice, opposite the side Lana had previously occupied. "Mary Eunice, baby, it's okay." Lois offered a hug, which Mary Eunice spied through her parted fingers. She slithered into the embrace, loathing herself for it. I don't deserve this. I betrayed Lana. I don't deserve anything. Why did I do that? "It's okay," Lois repeated in a low, comforting hum.

To her surprise, Barb eased beside her as well, smoothing an arm over the flat of her back. "C'mon, kid," she murmured. "Lana's a stubborn old mule. She needs to hear it." Lois's lips pressed to one hot, wet cheek with a soft smacking noise. The sound grounded Mary Eunice in the moment. She sank back to earth, weighed by the sheer reality on her shoulders. "You see a lot more than we do. She's gonna think your opinion means more than ours. You'll see. We'll gang up on her if we have to. Throw her in a straightjacket and haul her ass out to psychiatric ward of the hospital." Mary Eunice cringed. A straightjacket? Lana had already known Briarcliff. She didn't deserve anything worse. I couldn't do that do her if I wanted to.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and managed to say, in a thin voice, "I—I don't think that's a good idea…" Anywhere she couldn't be with Lana was not a good place. Lana would definitely never forgive them if they signed her into another mental institution, even a benevolent one. Face cracking, her lips quivered. Knock it off! You're embarrassing yourself! She couldn't control her inconsolable tears. "I just want Lana to be okay," she whimpered, everything crumbling.

Lois reached into her hair to unspin her hair from the intricate pattern she'd crafted. "We know, sweetheart. We want that, too." She tugged each tiny braid free. The fruity perfume which clung to her body, uniquely Lois in all of its femininity, melted on Mary Eunice's tongue. She buried her face in the crook of Lois's neck. You're so stupid. This is humiliating. You're weak. You can't even make Lana feel better. Lois planted another kiss on the top of her head. "Barb, help me untie these braids," she whispered, and then she had two pairs of hands in her hair, one slightly rougher than the other but neither causing any pain as they tugged the knots out and let her long hair fall free.

The comfort wreathed around her until she could breathe steadily once again, but Lana still didn't emerge from the bathroom. Through the wall, the shower came on. Barb interrupted Mary Eunice's dark, twisting thoughts where they roamed through her mind like creeping shadows cast upon the floor. "Are you going to tell us what that kiss was about, or are we going to have to guess to ourselves?" Her question was probing, not demanding, but it still triggered a fire low in Mary Eunice's belly. I can't say the wrong thing now. The inside of her mouth felt sticky, tasted like acid.

"Barb, don't…" Lois shook her head, trying to dissuade her. "You don't have to tell us anything. We know you and Lana have something… special." The corners of her lips flexed slightly, and Mary Eunice grimaced at the awkward expression. They're going to make the wrong assumptions. It isn't like that, it's not—maybe I wish it was, but… Pleading, she met Lois's eyes, uncertain how to even begin her explanation. How could she explain something she and Lana hadn't defined for themselves? "There's nothing wrong with it," Lois assured her.

Mary Eunice averted her eyes. "I know," she said. Barb blinked once, lifting her head, taken aback by the revelation. "She—She asked me. She wanted it."

"We saw that," Barb said. A quirked wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, concerned and confused and curious. "I just want to know why." She offered a hand to Mary Eunice, which she accepted, cold and trembling fingers folding into Barb's large, warm grasp. Barb's hands were roughened like hers with callouses on the palms and cracked bits of skin on the knuckles. "Lana likes you a lot, you know." I know. I messed up. I messed up real bad. Mary Eunice's gaze floated back down to the carpet, but she didn't miss the warning glance Lois shot Barb, something like a warning. Maybe I shouldn't have told Lois how I feel… Her tongue flicked across her bottom teeth. Barb's eyes darted back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

This wasn't the harsh, raunchy version of Barb Mary Eunice had met all those weeks ago, cowering away from an intimidating woman who dared to be so very vulgar, forthright, and masculine while retaining all of a woman's beauty. Or perhaps it was still the Barb she had first known, now softened to a member of the in-group rather than walling against a potential threat to the friends she had to defend. Regardless, Mary Eunice appreciated the shift in her character, the friendliness and muted affection now offered to her. "There—There isn't much to talk about," she said as the pad of Barb's thumb caressed the back of her hand. "After that night, at the bar, we've just been—I dunno, doing that."

A slight smirk teased Barb's lips, eyes glowing with reassurance. "The word is kissing, sugar," she provided. A hot blush raced up Mary Eunice's neck. I know the word. At the provision, she reconsidered it. She'd been kissing Lana. When phrased in such a manner, it sounded romantic, intimate, close, forged by bonds she and Lana could never share. It's not like that. It's kissing, but it's not kissing like that. "What about the bar changed all this for you, then?"

Lois kept shooting Barb dark, leery looks as she combed her hand through Mary Eunice's long hair, smoothing it down and fiddling with it to calm herself. She leaned into the embrace. "Um…" She didn't know how much Lana might have told them, what Lana had planned on remaining a secret. "After—After Rachel left, that night, Lana and I went to bed…" She drifted off, plucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she recalled the night, all of its heat and its chill. "And she asked me if she could kiss me, and I told her she could." She left hickeys on my neck. I liked the way her teeth felt on my skin. I still think of the way her lips took my pulse every night. "And, I guess…" Mary Eunice wrung her hands. "I guess we just never really stopped." I told her I liked being hers, and we decided sharing kisses was nice. She gulped back a hiccup of fear. "It's not—It's not like that," she assured. "We're just friends." Wendy is the only one for her, and God is the only one for me.

"Of course you are." Lois gave her a sympathetic smile. She squeezed Mary Eunice's hand. "You take really good care of Lana, you know. You're everything to her." Now, Barb shot her a look. What is up with them? Lois ignored her. "She thinks the world of you." People keep telling me that, but I don't know what it means. She sucked on her bottom lip until she tasted the metallic flavor of raw skin and blood there from her teeth raking over the fragile skin too many times. But with the two of them caressing her in different ways, Mary Eunice's qualms all soothed in some way or another, no matter how she feared the blowback from Lana, from her overhasty decision to speak. "Do you want to come with us tonight?" Lois offered. "Give Lana tonight to calm down. We'll bring you back tomorrow on our way to work. You can have your own bed for a change." A warm smile touched her pink lips, but Mary Eunice couldn't linger on them for too long.

She cast a long gaze at the bathroom door. The sound of pounding water from the shower still beat through the walls. Would Lana want her to be here? She didn't know. She didn't want to stay if Lana wanted her to leave. But I can't leave her alone if she needs me. She might need me. She might want me. The slimmest possibility, the pounding of love within her heart—more love than she could reveal to Barb, love which Lois knew and which Mary Eunice trusted her to keep secret—made her shake her head. "No, I—I better not." She cleared her throat from the thick hoarseness which had gathered there. "Lana might need me. I don't want her to think I'm upset, or hurt…" She dabbed away a tear from her cheek with her knuckle, grimacing where it rolled down her face. Stop crying. You don't need to cry all the time. You're weak.

"You are upset." Barb gave her a pointed look with the words. "Lana deserves to know how you feel—the truth. She loves you a lot. She values your feelings." She just ran away because I told her what I thought, the truth. Mary Eunice averted her eyes, withdrawing her hands and folding her knuckles into one another. Her fingers didn't fit together with one another like they fitted with Lana's. Her knuckles didn't become a series of rough mountain ranges, capable of weathering any storm. There were gaps where her hands touched one another. "Right now, she's hurt, and she's stubborn, but she cares about you. Don't forget that." Why should Lana love me? Why should anyone? A finger brushed her cheek and lifted her chin so she met Barb's eyes. The touch interrupted her self-deprecating thoughts. "Okay?"

She gulped. Barb was right. She couldn't keep doubting herself; it was an insult to Lana. Lana loved her, even if she saw no reason for anyone to ever care about her. She had a friend for the first time in her life. She couldn't afford to push Lana away. "Okay," she agreed, bobbing her head. Wiping another tear away, she added, "Thank you."

Lois tugged her to her feet. "Don't thank us, baby. We're here for you and for Lana. We want what's best for both of you." She took Barb's hand. Mary Eunice scanned them once, the way they held one another, and she recalled the story Lois had told her, the origin of this relationship. They fit together so well, two parts of a well-oiled machine. An unidentified emotion prickled in her gut, hot and green where it arose. Lois reached out and squeezed her hand tight. "Call us if you need anything, alright?" She nodded in agreement again. "Tell Lana we love her."

"I will."

Lois dragged her into another tight embrace, Barb providing a solid wall at her shoulder. "We love you." Tears stung behind her eyelids at the quiet utterance. Is this what it means to have friends? The sheer affection of the moment overwhelmed her, everything bleeding from the other bodies into hers. She pinched her eyes and mouth shut tight to keep from crying out at the weight lifting off of her shoulders, distributed onto the other two cherished bodies beside her. "Take care, alright?" Lois retreated just a bit to tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Mary Eunice nodded. "Good girl."

In the silence of their absence, everything crushed her once again. Gravity shrank her lungs so she fought to inhale with each passing second. Through the wall, the sound of the shower died. Is she going to come out? Mary Eunice didn't want to rush her. Fear clouded her stomach and her eyes. She tiptoed backward to sit on the edge of the bed. I can't ambush her. I need to wait for her to come to me. What if she wants me to leave? Where will I go? She pinched her forearm, plucking off all of the old scabs and creating new bleeding wounds. God, please sate Lana's heart, and please guide my words. Purify me and allow me to be a better friend to her and a better servant to You. Please, grant me some wisdom.

The bathroom door clicked open. Mary Eunice lifted her head from where her gaze had focused on her bloodied arm and stained fingertips. Lana emerged wrapped in a towel tucked around her body. At her appearance, Mary Eunice averted her eyes once again. Should I say something? I should apologize. No, I said I would wait. I should wait. She bit her lower lip, picking at the skin on her arm again. Lana strode across the room. Behind Mary Eunice, out of sight, the towel dropped to the floor, and Lana jerked up a drawer on the chest. She's naked right now. Lana had never done that before, not so openly; Mary Eunice needed only to turn her head to see Lana's bare body in a way she had never known but craved. She trusts you. Don't mess it up. She didn't move a muscle while she listened to the fabric whistle around Lana, clothing herself.

Clad in a set of flannel pajamas, Lana passed her again, heading back into the bathroom. She gathered her dirty clothes into her arms. Mary Eunice perked up, and she settled her feet into the shag carpet, following Lana up the hall. "You don't have to—I can do that."

Lana flipped open the lid to the washing machine and dropped the dirty clothes into it. As she poured the detergent into it, the stench of urine disappeared. "I'm not going to make you wash my piss clothes," Lana growled. Mary Eunice cringed at the harsh tone to her voice. She slammed the lid shut so hard, it echoed through the house, and Gus whimpered, retreating from where he had followed them back to the bedroom. Lana set her jaw as Mary Eunice hovered, afraid to move, uncertain what to say. "What do you want?"

At the snapped words, Mary Eunice took a tiny step back, casting her gaze down to her toes. I need to leave her alone. She doesn't want me here. I need to leave her alone. Her mouth dried, no matter how she tried to wet it with her tongue. She bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm sorry." Her voice emerged in a hoarse mutter. The tears stung at her again; she thought she had controlled them, but they reemerged with a vengeance. "I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did." Lana glared at the lid of the washing machine. Her hands pinched at the edges so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

Lips trembling, Mary Eunice buffered, seeking some solution. Softer, she whispered, "Yeah, I did." Her bloody fingernails dug into forearm. "I—I love you, Lana." Tears raced down her cheeks. She hated herself for it, for the weakness. "I'm so scared of losing you. When you get like that—I just want you to be okay." Lana didn't look at her. The silence stretched long between them. Mary Eunice shifted her weight from foot to foot, fidgeting and uncomfortable. I messed everything up. "I'm worried about you."

Curt and short, Lana said, "I know." Mary Eunice winced. Lana had never sounded so uncaring before. She had lost all of her tenderness. Exhaustion crinkled at the corners of her eyes. Lana had become empty, a shell of the loving woman Mary Eunice knew. Mary Eunice eased nearer and caressed the back of one tense hand. Lana stiffened and jerked her body away. "Don't touch me." She turned her back, crossing her arms tight across her chest, hunching at the shoulders. Her body shuddered with a long breath. As she exhaled, palpable melancholy attached to her breath. Softer, she amended, "I don't want to be touched right now."

Mary Eunice tucked her hands under her arms to ensure she kept them pinned, safe from touching Lana unwarranted again. "I'm sorry, I…" I didn't know. She licked her lips. Barb had told her to tell the truth. But how could she, when Lana was so small and vulnerable? "I love you," she whispered again. Lana didn't return the words of affection. "Won't you—Can't you please—your doctor, or someone—anyone?" Her garbled words didn't make a complete thought. No answer rose from Lana's turned back. "Lana, please…" Tearful in her imploring, Mary Eunice tiptoed around Lana to face her; her expression had tightened, eyes screwed shut. She's in pain. This is hurting her. "You can get better. Someone can help you. You don't have to live like this! You don't need to be like this!"

"Yes, I do!" Lana ripped her arms from around her body and tossed them into the air, hands balled into sharp fists. Mary Eunice's eyes fluttered wide. She jumped back, out of range of contact, heart bursting into her throat and threatening to land on her tongue. "I'm like this because I deserve it! Okay? I'm fucking broken!" The walls shook with Lana's shouts, each one making Mary Eunice shrink more. "I fucked up my whole life! I fucked up! I got Wendy killed, I almost died more times than I can fucking name—I deserve whatever I've got to fucking endure!"

Lana, it's not true. It's not. Let me tell you it's not true. Mary Eunice couldn't bring herself to speak. She couldn't bring herself to look at Lana. The loud voice rooted her to the spot, hands in front of her face, spine bent, ready to crumble and protect herself the only way she knew how if an unfriendly hand made contact. The silence ended with an audible sniffle and whimper from her throat. I can't say anything. She didn't dare open her eyes. Her open palms shielded her face from impact.

Soft fingertips brushed her palm, almost like tickling. She flinched. But as she peeked one eye open, Lana wore all of her grief and guilt at the surface of her eyes and grimace. She guided Mary Eunice's hands down away from her face, dropped her protective shield, with delicate guidance by her fingers. Somewhere in her twisted an expression, an apology lay, but Lana didn't manage to say it aloud. As Mary Eunice hiccuped on another disturbed, frightened sob, Lana retreated, covering her mouth and nose with her hands. "Go take a shower," she said, mumbling the words into her palms, eyes anywhere but Mary Eunice's face.

She shivered from head to toe. Robotic and stiff, save for the shuddering in her muscles and digits, she rotated on the balls of her feet and walked away, knees nearly refusing to bend; they locked up in resistance, wanting to keep her rooted to the spot, but she marched away like a soldier ordered by her captain. She closed the bathroom door all the way. She didn't leave the crack of light peeking into the bedroom, the openness they used to hear one another even on the calmest of nights for fear of something surfacing. In the mirror, her own face astonished her, the makeup rolling off of it, the trademark mole of Marilyn Monroe's left cheek sliding down her chin. Her hair had become wavy from all the braids. I look awful. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

Lois's beautiful ivory dress pooled around her feet, and the shower came on, the hot water already spent. She huddled far back in the shower stall, hiding her body from the frigid stream until she could resist it no longer. The chill pebbled her nipples and sent goosebumps reeling from her head to her toes, all over her arms and legs and chest and abdomen. The blood on her hand and arm washed away. The makeup faded. And when she emerged from the shower, the image in the mirror reflected her face as she recognized it—bare, blue lips shivering, tears in her eyes in spite of all the ones she'd already shed. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it to calm the erratic throbbing of her own heart. The ruddy patches on her cheeks vanished bit by bit.

On her toes, Mary Eunice emerged from the bathroom. Lana lay on the bed on her side, curled up with her back to Mary Eunice. Her side rose and fell evenly. She's asleep. Gus rested beside Lana, both brown eyes fixed on Mary Eunice. Creeping around the room, Mary Eunice found her favorite fleece nightgown, and she combed her hair in silence. She's resting. That's a blessing. She bit her lower lip. I can't sleep beside her. She wouldn't like that. She's already upset. Mary Eunice cast a long gaze at where Lana slept on the bed, the curves of her beautiful body. She longed to run her hands over Lana's skin and press her love into each inch of freckled skin. I wish she could love herself as much as I love her. Her heart wrenched at the notion. God, please, I know I've asked it before, but… Lana deserves better than what I can give her. Ease her soul. Help make her whole again. Help her see she isn't broken.

Drawing nearer, Mary Eunice peered down at Lana's face, as peaceful as Mary Eunice had ever seen her but still troubled in sleep. "I love you," she whispered to the silence. Reaching down, she tucked a lock of brunette hair behind her ear. The air around her hand warmed as Lana exhaled; the steam collected on her cold palm. A pathetic smile worked its way up to Mary Eunice's lips, and she sniffled around a few more tears. She smeared them away with one fist. Then, she gathered up the covers and tucked them up over Lana's shoulders. "Sweet dreams, cupcake." You shouldn't. You shouldn't indulge yourself. The discouraging voice didn't stop her from leaning over and pressing a moist kiss to Lana's temple. Standing up straight, she reached past Lana, taking her pillow by the hem. I'll sleep on the couch. She won't be mad about that.

As she withdrew, Lana's hand closed around her wrist. Oh no. Mary Eunice's mouth dried. Her every muscle tensed. Stupid stupid stupid. Lana's voice was tiny where it rose to her. "Where are you going?"

"I…" Mary Eunice choked. "I—I was just going to go, um, sleep on the couch, since you were—since you…" She didn't know how to finish the sentence, so she trailed off, letting the awkward silence hang over her head for a moment. Lana lifted her head from the pillow, both brown eyes fixing on her as the soft hand released her arm. It snapped back against her body with her pillow clutched tight. "I'm sorry—I thought you were asleep, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine. Don't—Don't go. Please, stay." Those big brown eyes, vulnerabilities apparent in their depths, floated up to her face, all round like the moon. "Please." The last word was softer than the others, a genuine plea which Mary Eunice couldn't have denied if she had wanted to. On the balls of her feet, she crept around the bed and placed her pillow in the spot from where she had grabbed it. Then, she tucked herself in under the covers; she left a modest distance between herself and Lana, afraid of violating her boundaries again, afraid of earning another rebuke. She didn't lie down, and after she lingered there in silence with her eyes downcast, Lana pushed herself up into a sitting position. She grimaced and pressed a hand to her temple, massaging it. Mary Eunice's gaze darted to her, but she refused to let it settle there.

Lana extended a hand to her, brushing fingers along the back of her hand, which she opened at the gentle prompting. "Sunshine, I—I'm sorry." Lana's voice cracked. Sunshine. Mary Eunice's heart warmed at the term of endearment. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. I'm not angry—you didn't do anything wrong, I swear. You're…" Her lips and chin shivered. Tears formed a sheen over those deep brown eyes. No, Lana, don't start crying again. You've already cried too much for one night. "You're more than I deserve." Mary Eunice curled her fingers in with Lana's, focusing on the way each of their digits fit into the valley of another. She squeezed the hand in her grasp. It isn't true. You deserve more than I could ever provide. "And I have no right to raise my voice at you, ever—and don't you dare tell me it's okay, because it's not."

Mary Eunice released a puff of humored breath at the admonition. Lana scooted closer to her on the mattress, and she met her in the middle, violating the neutral zone in the middle of the bed and leaving gaps on the edges where any monster might've lurked to grab them. "You always know what I'm going to say." In spite of the light intentions behind her words, her voice was a croak from all of the tears she'd shed, the ones which had poured from the cruel pranksters, the ones which had poured into Lois and Barb, the ones which had broken into trickles from Lana's rebuke.

Nestling close to her, Lana leaned her shoulder against Mary Eunice's. Mary Eunice looped an arm around her neck. They each hummed with satisfaction, pleased at the arrangement. "Not always," Lana replied. She brushed her cheek up against Mary Eunice's, nose and eyelashes teasing her skin. Mary Eunice turned her head, thinking Lana meant to request a kiss. Instead, she found her eyes locking with Lana's. Less than five inches separated their faces. "Do you…" She drifted off in hesitation. "Do you really think I should—should I do what they said?"

Mary Eunice nodded. Lana's big eyes didn't leave hers; the agreement wasn't explanation enough. She cleared her throat. "I think… I think it would help." She curled her toes under the blankets in discomfort. "Even if you don't want to go actually talk to someone—your doctor could give you some of that medicine, right? And then you won't be so—you won't have to worry about breaking down again, or whatever that is." Her heart refused to settle. What if Lana freaked out again? I just want her to be okay again.

Lana didn't rebuke her, though her eyes averted, a weak smile coming to her face and not reaching her eyes genuinely. "Yeah," she echoed in a dull voice. She squeezed Mary Eunice's hand once. Her eyes fluttered closed, and after she shook her head, she managed to say, "I guess I'll do it, then." Mary Eunice lifted her other hand to caress Lana's warm cheek. Lana, that's wonderful. She bit her tongue. You're so wonderful, so strong, so powerful. Lana continued toying with her hand, absentminded in her actions. "Thank you."

"What have I done?"

Those dark eyes flicked open to meet hers once again. "You've done everything." What does that mean? Mary Eunice didn't have the chance to ask the question. Lana leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her lips, intoxicating enough to make her head spin. "You're so cold. Your hands…" She rolled one hand between two of hers. "Your lips. Do you need me to warm you up?" A hot pink blush rose to Mary Eunice's face. "You're so cute."

Lana's lips captured hers again, this time not as delicate, hotter, wetter, and then Lana peppered her neck with tiny wet smooches; by the time she had finished, Mary Eunice was warm from head to toe, her face and arms red with a delightful, adolescent brand of embarrassment. "Lana?"

"Hm?"

"What is—What is this?" Lana's brow quirked. "Barb just—she asked me, and I didn't really know what to tell her—nothing sounded right…"

"Do you not like it?"

"No!" The vehemence in her voice took them both aback, and she stammered to amend her single harsh word. "I—I mean, I love it, I think it's great, or fine, it's—I like it."

A dark chuckle rose from Lana's throat. She pressed a warm, flush kiss to one pink cheek. "If you like it," Lana murmured to her ear, "do we really have to give it a name?"

She shrugged. "I guess not." Lana eased into the pillows, and Mary Eunice followed. She offered her arm, and Lana rested her head on her chest. Mary Eunice teased her long, dark hair with her hand, smoothing over her shoulder and side. It doesn't need a name. I love Lana, and she loves me, and it isn't wrong for us to be friends who love each other. "So you'll call the doctor tomorrow?" she probed.

"Yes." Lana glanced up at her. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "For—everything."

Mary Eunice gave her a weak grin. "You know I think you can do no wrong."

A wry snort of laughter came from Lana's chest. "Yeah. I know." She hummed a long sigh. "I love you, sunshine."

Mary Eunice planted a kiss on top of her head. "I love you, too, cupcake."

"Is that my new name now?"

"If you like it."

"I love it."

Eased at long last, Mary Eunice kept Lana enveloped safe and protected in her arms, smoothing her hands over her body to rub all of the tension out of her spine and head. The exhaustion of the panic attack made Lana drop off to sleep fairly quickly, but even when her hot breath puffed steadily across Mary Eunice's chin, Mary Eunice couldn't convince herself to sleep. She adored the warmth of Lana's soft body against hers too much. For the first time that day, she prayed her rosary, murmuring the words and fingering the imaginary beads on Lana's hand—each finger representing two of the Hail Marys in every decade, one part of every mystery. I could count my prayers like this for the rest of my life. Her tongue darted across her lips while she shoved away the ramifications of those thoughts. She loved Lana more than anything else, more than she was meant to love anything or anyone, but she had promised herself to God, and she could not go back on that promise. I fought a spiritual battle, but the war isn't over yet. Things aren't the same as before because of me.

Nibbling on her lower lip, she thought on it. Was Lana really a temptation? She had never known anyone more holy. What if this was the plan God had for her? God knows I'm stupid. He'll make it more clear. He'll guide me. I just need to wait. Fortunately, Mary Eunice considered herself very patient. Having satisfied herself and her theological worries, she relaxed, and as she tangled one hand into Lana's hair, she found her tired mind easing into sleep with no resistance.