Grabbing the bottle, Helen swung it up to her lips once more, enjoying the way the fine whiskey burned its way down her throat. It was like an anaesthetic of sorts, taking away her ability to think of the other pain.

It was a pain she'd been dealing with for weeks now, counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds until she lost her daughter.

Again.

She'd gone over it a thousand times already, thinking out every possible way she could save Ashley without interfering and it just...

So here she sat, in the palatial gardens of her new Sanctuary with a bottle of whiskey that had probably been a very expensive gift from a very committed lover a few years back. She couldn't remember and, right now, she didn't really care.

It was odd, she mused, taking another swig. After having gone through it once already, she half expected the pain to be easier to deal with. Not lesser by any means just... manageable.

She was wrong.

Nothing was more excruciating than sitting, doing nothing, and waiting for the moment to tick by.

She'd only allowed herself the opportunity to see Ashley once a year, sneaking little visits when the other Helen's back was turned. Leaving always felt like losing a piece of herself over and over again but until now she hadn't properly contemplated saving her daughter.

For so long she'd been able to pretend she had let out all her grief in the way she had for John, taking solace in the fact that neither of them would be suffering any more. It wasn't so much that Helen believed in some kind of Heaven or Hell, more that she had to believe that there was more to existence than this. There simply had to be something more, she was certain of it.

And so she had consoled herself with that, reminding herself on those dark and lonely nights that Ashley would be with the grandfather she never really knew, the grandmother who would have cherished her and the baby boy who should have been her uncle.

Perhaps even John was with her, looking out for the little girl he'd never really known.

And Helen had been doing well with that little mental image, it had kept her going through even the darkest of days until now. The date had almost snuck up on her.

But now it was here and she was drinking more whiskey than was probably safe or smart. But really, there was nothing else for it. She couldn't mope over photo albums because she had none, she couldn't fall into the arms of those who would understand because they would be comforting the other version of her. But she could drink.

The night air was cool and still, leaving Helen perfectly alone with her thoughts. She couldn't even hear the faint hum of any nearby machinery that clung to her new home even when there was nothing to be humming. There were no lights either, the giant cavern dark and deserted.

She wanted it that way, she wanted the dark and the quiet. She couldn't deal with people and their problems today.

Helen eyed the bottle in her hands with disdain, wondering why there was barely a sip of whiskey left. She downed it with a frown before tossing the bottle aside.

There would be more somewhere. Whenever she finally made her way back to the main building. There was a cellar, already mostly full that she could delve into if her private stores failed her.

It felt strangely comforting to be this drunk, she decided. It was like she was invincible and safe yet totally exposed to the world. Like she could feel everything but nothing all at the same time.

Her shoulder was tingling, the long healed scars from where Ashley had attacked prickling beneath the light fabric of her top. She rubbed the spot, hand closing around where the wound had been as if holding on to the pain meant that she could hold on to her daughter.

But she couldn't, not really. When the sun rose, Ashley would be gone from this world and gone from Helen's life for a second time. When it had first happened, so many had spoken to her of the tragedy of a parent burying their child and she'd nodded and accepted their condolences but what no one told her was that she'd have to do it again. The idea that she would have to sit by and watch her daughter suffer again was one she had not been prepared to contemplate and, when James had first talked her out of suicide, it was the one thing that made her consider the action again.

Sitting amongst what may have been her greatest achievement to date, Helen couldn't say she wished she had taken her life but the thought of being with Ashley again, of leaving all this petty fighting behind was tempting.

She couldn't do it though, not after all this time.

Closing her eyes, Helen bit back the tears that threatened. She wouldn't cry, not now. Not when her daughter was still alive.

Instead she focused on remembering the way she smelt, the way Ashley felt in her arms, even the way her eyes darkened when she was furious at Helen for something beyond her control.

She had to hold on to the memories, to what little she had left because tomorrow morning, when the sun rose once more, Helen would lose her daughter for the second time.

And then she would cry.

This was suggested by queerandnerdy on Twitter when I was moaning about not having enough moments from Helen's second life! Here's hoping I did this justice :)

xx