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He should have brought a jacket. The thin cotton of his work shirt did nothing to block out the cool winter air as he trudged along in the darkness, but how could he have bothered to spare a second thought to the matter? His head felt much to full to bother with mundane thoughts like the comfort of his own body. Because it was clear now. Clearer now than it had ever been, and as he rounded the corner of the deadened orchard he felt his heart leap up into his throat as he struggled to arrange the words in his head...

He stumbled once or twice up the path to her doorway; the snow was so deep and thick here that he began to wonder how often she was leaving her house as of late. There were only two poorly carved paths that lead to her chicken coop and barn, nothing more.

He had expected to spend at least ten minutes knocking until she roused out of bed, but she answered after the first round of hammering, her hazel eyes wide as she threw the door open a little clumsily. "What the hell do you want? Is everyone okay?"

He must have been quite the sight. Poorly shaven and exhausted, clad in only a cotton shirt and trousers... He didn't blame her for thinking there was an emergency. "No, no. I'm sorry. I just wanted to talk."

She narrowed her eyes but shifted slightly to her right, allowing him to slip inside the warmth of her house. "And you couldn't have waited until a decent hour, like a normal person?"

The room inside felt oddly stuffy, her bed still made. "Well I supposed I didn't wake you, did I?"

He stood awkwardly just a few steps inside and watched her resume her seat at the dining table, a nearly empty bottle of wine in front of her. "Lucky for you I don't sleep anymore." She slurred. He watched her take a hearty swig straight from the bottle.

"You're drunk." He said quietly, watching a small dribble of wine run down her chin.

"You catch on quick." She grinned at him crookedly, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Are you going to tell me why you're here or are you just going to make observations till morning?"

It occurred to him how little she looked like herself, like the last time he had seen her only worse; it was as if someone had taken the usual Lillian and let all the air of her, leaving her looking rather like a wilted balloon. She had certainly dropped a great deal of weight, her nightdress draping on her like a bed sheet more than actual pajamas. Her eyes were thick with purple bags and seemed to be somewhat swollen. And her hair, her gorgeous hair, was lank about her face and even matted in some places, completely absent of its usual shine and curl.

She took another gulp of wine. He was reluctant to approach her, like he had stumbled upon some injured animal in the forest and didn't know whether it was safe to help it. "What's wrong with you?"

She swallowed thickly but didn't look at him, instead picking up a letter on the table he hadn't noticed before. She read a few lines to herself before she spoke. "My mother is ill. Very ill."

He took a few steps forward, still wary of her. "I'm sorry Lillian. Is... Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh, I don't think there's anything anyone can do at this point." She was trying to keep her voice light and airy, but avoided his gaze in favor of blinking rapidly at the letter. "She's always been sick, you know... Years of alcoholism and depression, they take a toll on a person." She paused. "The doctors don't know how long she has, especially given the fact that she won't stop drinking."

"So this is how you're choosing to deal with it? With a bottle?"

"Like mother like daughter." She sneered, looking up at him with her eyes unfocused. He couldn't think of what to say and instead got as close as he dared, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off quickly, sighing as she tossed the letter back to it's place on the filthy table.

"I have to go home, Ash." She chugged the rest of the wine and rose from her chair, going to place it in a growing pile by the sink. "I just want to see her while... While she's still my mom. And dad needs me too, he can't do this alone."

He watched the pathetic shell of his beautiful Lillian stare at him for a moment before he spoke. "Let me go with you." He shook his head as she opened her mouth to say something. "I mean it. Just to make sure you get there okay. This isn't the kind of trip you should make alone."

She raised an eyebrow and looked more like herself, and he suddenly knew that this new version of Lillian wasn't above her old cruelty. "And abandon your precious Laney?"

He felt a surge of anger at the satisfaction on her face, and suddenly they were doing what they did best- argue. "So that's what this is about? You're ridiculous Lillian. You're running-"

"I'm not running!" She snarled. "How dare you. I'm trying hold the pieces of my family together!"

He took another few steps closer to her, aware that his temper was rising. "What about the pieces of us? You leave now, we're never... I can't believe you, you're so unbelievably selfish-"

She actually laughed, a high pitched laugh he had come to associate with being in trouble. "Selfish? Of course I'm selfish, you bastard! You don't think I know that? I have to be, Ash. Look at me, look at the mess I've become." She looked on the verge of tears again, and picked up a bottle, gesturing around the room with it. "You think I don't see how pathetic I am? That's exactly why I have to go, if I don't..."

She seemed to stop herself from speaking, and settled on staring at him and breathing rather raggedly. He glared at her. "If you don't?" He prompted.

"Stop it." She hissed. "Just stop it. I don't owe you an explanation..." She trailed off again and let out another hiss of breath. When she spoke again, her tone was much more leveled. "I need to go home. I need to be in a place where I know who I am."

The wine bottle slipped from her fingers and cracked against the floor, but she made no move to clean up the mess and instead stared drunkenly at the pieces scattered around her feet. For once he saw her for who she was: broken, like the bottle. "I know who you are." He said evenly, moving until he was only a few feet from her. "You're ridiculous. And annoying, infuriating... And wonderful. I know who you are when you're with me."

She looked him full on in the face, a tear traitorously sliding down her cheek. She began to rub her knuckles against her eyes like a child, her voice rather thick as she spoke. "That doesn't matter now. It never should have mattered, really. That's what we both called from the start, right? No attachments. We agreed, I have no claim on you-"

"No claim on me?" The words send a sudden burst of fire through him, and for a moment he was so angry he couldn't speak. "No claim on me? What do you think sex is, just something to do in a bed?"

She had winced at the sound of his voice but something about his anger made her stand taller, her eyes struggling to be bright in the face of a fight. "I'm not saying it was right, I'm saying it was what we agreed on!"

"We agreed it would be a secret to protect us both." He bellowed. "We never said it wouldn't mean anything."

He could tell he had caught her there; she glared at him for a moment, struggling through the drunken haze to think of an argument. When at last she spoke, she seemed to be making up for a lack of logic with sheer volume. "Well there you have it! I guess that makes things clear; I'm a whore and you're free to do what you please, are you happy?"

She had moved to skirt around him but he was too quick for her, as always; grabbing her by the arms he flung her back harder than he had meant to in his temper, earning him a tiny gasp as her backside collided with the kitchen counter. He was so tired of her running, of her avoidance, of her hiding from what they both had spent too much time denying. "Of course I'm not happy!" He was screaming in her face now, her cheeks beginning to flood crimson below him. "How could I be happy! You're telling me these past months have meant nothing to you? That I meant nothing to you?"

"You have no right!" She bellowed, almost louder than him and certainly more high pitched. "You have no right to come into my house and bully me. Get out, Ash!"

"Answer me, then!" He yelled back, losing his balance slightly as she began to pummel his chest, not to hurt him but to steer him away from her. "Answer me and I'll leave!"

She seemed to swell for a moment but suddenly, as if popped, she deflated. Her cheeks rapidly went from a deep maroon to an unnatural pale and just as quickly she was crying, hot wet tears running down her face thicker than he had ever seen before. "Please stop Ash. I can't do this, not right now."

"What?"

He couldn't hide the shock from his voice; he had never seen Lillian back down from an argument. One of her hands, which had been busy pounding against his chest moments ago, suddenly coiled against the fabric of shirt and pulled him closer to her tear stained face.

"I can't do this, okay?!" She screamed at him through her tears. "Don't you get that?!"

She flung him away from her and sent him stumbling into her kitchen table. He felt suddenly cold, as if all his blood had been replaced with ice. He had seen Lillian angry, furious even... But never heart broken. With a loud sob her knees gave out, sending her crashing to the wooden floor.

He watched her cry for a few moments, the sound of her sobs beginning to send some feeling back into his limbs. She had never looked so small, the strap of her nightdress falling off her shoulder as she began to shake, her hands knotting in her matted hair.

But she wasn't crying for him. She was crying for her mother.

It took a while to come back to his senses; Lillian's sobbing acting like a stimulant that seemed to rouse some instinct deep inside of him. Moving somewhat stiffly he bent to sit beside her, gently plucking her hand off the floor and lacing her fingers with his.

He couldn't see her face, as she had pulled her knees up to her chest and was currently hiding behind them, but took it as a good sign when she didn't immediately snatch her hand back. He had more that he wanted to say but knew to hold his tongue; he hadn't realized until she started crying, but Lillian's need was greater than his in this moment. Placing an arm around her shoulders he eased her against his chest. "I'm here." He said simply. Because he was. Whether or not she wanted him to be. Regardless of what she said he knew these past months had meant something to her, he knew her well enough to know that.

He grew tired of sitting on the floor after only a few minutes; releasing her hand, he looped and arm below her knees and lifted her in a rather wobbly fashion. Trying to keep her nightdress from riding up, he settled on the bed with her on his lap.

She had stopped sobbing now, but he could still feel the warm, wet tears running silently down her cheeks. Raising a hand to her face, he wiped a tear stained cheek, trailing his palm down her neck and coming to a stop on her shoulder.

"Time and time again you prove me to be an ass, don't you?" He said quietly, pressing her against his chest. "I should have known better than to bring things up right now. I'm sorry." She didn't say anything back but sniffed noisily, turning her head until it fit in the crook of his neck. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." She said after a while. "Stay." She pulled back far enough to look him in the eye, her own still a little blood shot. "I'm sorry." She said quietly.

He didn't know what she was apologizing for and found he didn't care; one of her hands was trailing up his arm, her palm pressing against his neck. He swallowed rather thickly as she traced the line of his jaw, the imprint of the bruising, before she pulled his face to hers.

It was a ghost of a kiss that couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but he could feel it in his bones; shivering slightly, he pulled back enough to glance at her face- still red, swollen even, a little drunk- before she leant back in, her lips pressing more urgently against his as she turned to straddle his lap.

"No." He whispered, pulling back enough so her lips couldn't meet his. Every bit of him wanted her, especially the throbbing part beneath her bunched up night dress. But he couldn't. "Not like this, Lillian."

Her face crumpled into tears once more and suddenly she was crying all over him, her face pressed into his neck and her hands in his hair and her shaking, shaking like mad, all over him... He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against him, breathing in the smell of her tainted lavender mixed with sweat and salt, the smell of her grief both enticing and repelling him.

"I'm sorry, I am so sorry." She whispered again and again, her nails beginning to scratch at his neck.

"I know, me too." He whispered back, his own eyes beginning to water at the brokenness of her voice. It took all the strength in his body to pull back, his palm fitting over her cheek. "You need sleep." He said quietly.

She seemed reluctant to let him go, but allowed him to ease her back into the mattress and tug the blankets up to her chin.

"Stay with me. Please." She whispered, the wine she drank beginning to take her into an unconsciousness he couldn't follow.

He eased himself beside her, far enough to be respectful but close enough to still feel her warmth, determined to fight sleep and watch her all night. "Okay."


I think I can hear a collective cheer from those of you who have been following this from the start. Read and Review.