Ally

The smell of coffee and pancakes filled my nose as I made my way down the stairs, and when the sound of a rerun Rockies' game began filling the house from the living room, my chest swelled with emotion as nostalgia swept over me.

Making my way into the kitchen, I smiled brightly at the sight of my father wrapping his arms around my mother at the stove, kissing her cheek before releasing her. When he turned around and spotted me, his already loving smile got brighter.

"There's my girl."

I grinned, rounding the counter and stepping into my father's arms. He placed a kiss atop of my head, swaying me a moment before releasing me, and I turned to kiss the side of my mother's head before grabbing a mug, filling it with coffee.

"Morning, baby."

"Morning," I replied, "breakfast smells amazing."

"Your favorite," she replied, shooting me a grin.

I leaned against the counter, watching as my mother plated our breakfast and listening as my father rambled on about a play the Rockies' defense had made – like it wasn't a rerun and he didn't know the outcome. Moments later, I helped my mother set the table before we gathered around it for breakfast. And I didn't realize until this moment just how much I missed them living in Littleton.

"So, Allyson," I let out a little chuckle, my mother would never use the shortened version of my name. "I was thinking that you and I could head into town today, your father has a little work to do and then we could meet him for dinner?"

"Of course." I smiled before turning to my dad. "Do I get to come to the station, see your stomping grounds?"

He chuckled, nodding before pushing his chair back as he finished his food, kissing both my mother and I's heads. "Sure. I expect you two to come pick me up at noon." I laughed before nodding. "Have a good day at work," I mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

My father grinned at me. "I will, I love you." He bent down, kissing my mother. "And I love you. See you two this evening."

"I love you. Bye, honey."

When the front door closed, my mother turned to me, excitement lighting up her features as she bounced in her chair, and the words that fell from her lips had me tilting my head back on a laugh.

"Let's go shopping!"

Colorado Springs was beautiful as my mother and I spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon running around, and I had seen nearly everything from the north end to the south end of the small city as well as Old City Colorado; a historic part of the city from the nineteenth century.

Now, we were strolling down the streets of downtown, arms linked as we made our way towards the police department. And while downtown Colorado Springs held an abundance of charm, nothing compared to the way Littleton made me feel.

"So," my mother sung, "you haven't spoken a lot on how things are in Littleton. How are things with Betty and the shop? Trish and Cassidy?"

I sighed at the thought of my two best friends, who I hadn't spoken to since yesterday after the whole dating fiasco. Making a mental note to text them, I shrugged, running hand through my curled locks.

"Things with Betty and the shop are good. We were losing business for a little while, but recently we have been seeing a spike in numbers. That could be from Valentine's Day though," I rambled, "and Trish and Cassidy," I trailed off.

My mother's steps faltered a little, and she looked up at me. "Are things okay between the three of you?"

I nodded quickly, "oh yeah, we are perfectly fine." My thoughts floated back to our conversation yesterday and I twisted my lips. "I just need to text them, I kind of snapped at them yesterday at brunch."

"Oh, about?"

I chuckled as my mother tried to keep her tone bored, but the curiosity was loud and clear.

"They think I should start dating," I said slowly, adverting my gaze towards the street. "They kind of threw that on me yesterday and I got defensive."

My mother grew quite as she returned to her stroll. "Have you," she paused, seeming to think over her next words. "Have you thought of dating again?"

I inhaled sharply, my steps stopping all together as my mother turned to me, worry etching her features. My brows furrowed as I leveled my gaze on her. "You think I should start dating again, too?"

She shrugged. "I mean, it's been two years, honey. It wouldn't be a crime if you started dating, in fact, I think it would be good for you," she admitted, reaching for my hand as I took a step back, swallowing harshly. "I'm not telling you that you should, only you know when you will be ready. I'm just assuring you that, if you were ready, that, that's okay." She squeezed my hand, smiling gently. "But if you aren't ready, that's okay, too."

I chewed my lip, reaching to relink my arm in hers and began guiding us in our direction once again. I was quite for a moment, and my mother let me think, only offering a pat to my arm.

"I don't even know how to date," I whispered, the reality of that hitting me harder than I thought. "I've never had, too. I don't," I huffed, "I don't even know anyone that I would be interested in, much less want to date."

My mother smiled sadly. "I know, honey." Then she laughed softly. "But dating isn't rocket science. Taking that step just means you are open to the idea if you become interested in someone, or vice versa."

She looked up at me.

"If it makes you feel any better, my first 'date'," she made air quotes with her free hand. "With your father was in Iraq in the middle of a combat mission."

I couldn't contain my laughter at that.

"Wasn't exactly your normal dinner and a movie."

My lips settled into a soft smile, but an overwhelming amount of guilt flooded my stomach at the thought of being with someone other than Dallas. The thought of dating had been nonexistence in my world, and I never imagined myself with anyone other than him, even after his death.

"The thought of being with anyone other than him makes me feel sick," I said softly, and my mother rubbed my arm.

"That's normal," she assured. "And you may feel that way for a little while, but, my love, he would want you to be happy. He would want you to be with someone that makes you happy, and if I don't know anything, I do know that."

Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away, nodding silently.

We reached the police station, and I forced myself to push Dallas from my thoughts as I forced a smile on my face, squeezing my mother's arm. Stepping into the lobby, the woman at the front desk smiled at my mother and me.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile, "Dawson's in his office." Her eyes caught mine. "You must be his daughter, it's nice to finally meet you."

I grinned, "it's nice to meet you."

She nodded, pointing behind her towards the numerous amounts of desks and officers. "You can go on back, Penny."

"Thanks, Shelia."

On the way down the hallway towards my father's office, some officers shot us a smile or wave, while most of them greeted my mother by her name before acknowledging me. Each of them were incredibly friendly, and my father's former partner hugged my mother tightly before introducing himself to me. With each greeting, my mother grinned proudly, and happiness grew in my own chest at the life my parents were making here.

My mother knocked on my father's office door before opening it, finding him on the phone with pursed lips and furrowed brows. He raised his head, eyes widening momentarily as he straightened. But then he relaxed, that signature smile finding its way across his lips.

"Uh, hey, I've got to go; I'll get back to you tomorrow."

He hung the phone up quickly and stood, grabbing his things before hugging us.

"So, what have you two been up to this morning," he asked, guiding us out of the door and down the hall.

"We went shopping and I showed Allyson around," my mother replied, and I nodded.

"She maxed out your credit card," I teased, and my father shot his gaze to my mother with raised brows. My mother reached across my father and slapped my arm lightly.

"No, I didn't, I used my own, thank you very much."

I giggled as my mother glared at me. With a smile, I sent her a wink, the conversation from earlier seeming to drift from my mind as my father draped his arms over our shoulders and lead us out onto the streets of Colorado Springs.

"Oh," my father groaned, setting his briefcase on the counter. "That was the best dinner I think I've ever had."

My mother and I shared a look, and I rolled my eyes playfully, reaching around my dad to pat his stomach. "You say that about every meal you eat," I grin, and he ruffled my hair before pushing me away. I laughed, taking a seat on the barstool.

It was only a little after six in the afternoon, and while at dinner we had all decided to come home and pile up on the couch. That meant spending the rest of our night watching crime documentaries and listening to my father grumble about all the clues missed.

"I'm gonna go get a shower," my father announced, loosening his tie and locking eyes with me. "I have a new documentary tonight, it recently came out, I've been waiting for you."

That familiar warmth filled my heart and I smiled, nodding.

"Well, hurry up, old man."

He shot me a playful glare before turning and bounding up the stairs. My mother grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and turned the light off as I began sliding off the barstool. "I'm gonna go change into something comfortable," I said. And as my feet hit the floor, my elbow hit my father's briefcase knocking it to the floor, and numerous papers and files littered the tile at my feet.

"Well crap," I mumbled, and my mother rounded the corner, bending to pick up the papers before I had the chance to start.

"You can go on, honey. I'll get this," she smiled, but it was weary, almost pleading. With a questioning glance, I shook my head, lowering to the floor to begin gathering papers.

"It's alright, mom. I got it," I insisted.

She gave me another strange smile that caused something inside of me to stir with worry. I turned my attention back to the papers, and the urge to question her had me opening my mouth only to snap it shut again at the sight of a familiar name written across a file.

My mother stilled momentarily, then she reached for it, but I was quicker. Gripping the edge of the file, I ripped it from my mother's path and looked at her, my face hardening in a glare.

"Why is this here?"

The words shook, and the worry stirring deep within me began growing. And I wanted to believe there was nothing that I didn't already know in the file; it was thin, only holding a handful of pages. However, the look on my mother's face told me that I didn't want to know what was in my hands.

"Sweetheart, your father just –."

I cut off her off with a harsh shake of my head, I stood, and my mother followed me quickly. Opening the file, it rested in my arms as I squinted against the dimly lit room, freezing as I made out the layout of an autopsy report.

"Allyson."

"I forgot my briefca – ."

Both my parents' voices were distance as I stared down at the pieces of paper, scanning it them from top to bottom as I took in "Dallas Harrison" written in bold across from "Decedent". I paid no attention to the details that described the last thing he wore or his description, and my throat grew tight at the word Traumatic Injuries in bold below the cause of death.

I continued to read past the external and internal injuries, unable to bring myself to read a written description of his body found at the scene. But my legs grew shaky as I noticed words like 'skull fracture' and 'dead upon impact'.

But at the sight of the word Toxicology, my blood ran ice cold.

Toxicology shows a low amount of an opioid with possible stimulant drug known as heroin and cocaine taken only hours before death. Alcohol was detected in blood stream at .05 which likely led to an intoxicative effect while behind the wheel.

All other drugs were negative.

The words became blurry as two scorching tears made their way down my cheeks.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, releasing the file and letting it fall to my feet, and with wide eyes filled with tears, I stared in disbelief. I knew that I would never be able to unread those words, never be able to unknow the true cause of his death.

"Neonata."

I straightened at the sound of my father's soft voice, whirling around and pinning him with a harsh glare. His face fell, and he held his hands out towards me, taking a cautious step towards me. The look on his face would have broken my heart if I could have focused on anything other than the blinding fit of rage slowly burning inside my chest.

"He was on drugs?" My question was calm, but my entire body shook as I tried to regain control of my emotions. But the only thing running through my mind were the words 'heroine' 'cocaine'.

Dallas had done drugs; he had gotten behind the wheel while intoxicated and high. That one careless action had been the reason the love of my life was no longer with me. He had chosen to get behind the wheel, he had chosen to put his life in danger, and it had been the last thing he had ever done - other than to call me to tell me that he was sorry.

"Ally, I –."

"Why," I asked harshly, but I couldn't hear my voice. I couldn't hear anything other than my pulse. Bile rose up my throat and everything began to spin. My lungs ached for air, but I couldn't bring myself to relieve them as I watched the look on my father's face as I waited.

"When it came across my desk, I noticed the autopsy report was missing along with other documentation. I got curious and –."

"Were you gonna tell me," I asked, straightening as I stood nearly eye to eye with my father. The eyes that were a perfect image of mine filled with terror as he looked over me. And when he chewed his lip before dropping his head, I got my answer.

"I didn't know how."

I let out a humorless scoff. "Then you should have left it alone," I snapped, bending down to pick up the file and shaking it in front of his face. "The autopsy report was missing. So, that means you asked for it? You put in a request for it?"

My father nodded solemnly, and my nostrils flared as I fought against another wave of tears.

"Why would you do that?" My voice cracked, and his eyes lifted to mine, shining with unshed tears.

"Sweetheart, I told him not to tell you."

I looked at my mother, staring at her for a moment before adverting my gaze. Turning around, I grabbed my keys off the table along with my coat. I could hear the shuffle of my parents' feet as they followed me towards the front door.

"Allyson, where are you going," my mother asked, her words frantic as I whirled around to face them.

"It was getting better," I spat, glaring at them.

Their shoulders slumped in defeat, and my father's frightened face turned even more ashen as he pleaded with me to stay, to listen. When he stepped forward to grab me, I opened the door, and he halted. I shook my head, ignoring the painful constricting of my throat as a sob began to build.

"I was getting better, and after nearly two years," my voice grew softer, shaking with each word. "You," I spat, pointing at my father, "thought it would be a good idea to dig into his death? For what?"

"I just wanted to know what really happened, he was a safe driver. He had never even, it was strange that he –,"

"Died?"

He winced.

"He died," I repeated, refusing to allow my voice to crack. "He died, nothing changes that, but now, because of you, I get to live with that knowledge of him," I pointed towards the kitchen.

Neither of them said a word and at the sight of a single tear falling down my father's cheek, I waivered. But I turned, walking out of the house and towards my vehicle, not bothering to glance in their direction as I made my way out of the neighborhood, just as uncontrollable sobs began to fill the car.

"Ally? Hey."

Kira's voice was soft, full of confusion as I stepped through the doors of the gym, but a smile lit up her face, nonetheless. Tapping her nails on the counter, she waited until I was only inches from her before she started speaking.

"You have a session with Austin on Monday, right," she asked, "because he isn't here right now."

The fake smiled slipped over my lips like a second skin, but I knew my eyes were a dead giveaway to my distress. They had been swollen and red when I had glanced at myself in the review mirror only moments ago.

"I know." My voice cracked, and I was quick to clear it. "I just – ," I sighed, "I was just wondering if I could go upstairs and work on some combinations that he gave me yesterday."

Kira eyed me suspiciously, and I cursed myself mentally – that was the best I could do?

But Kira just looked around, reaching under the desk before pulling out a single key. She held it out to me, quickly dropping it in my hand.

"Just make sure everything is how you left it," she ordered with a soft smile, "Austin is a bit anal about that."

I let out a halfhearted chuckle, nodding before thanking her and bounding up the stairs.

And when I was in the comfort of the dark room, surrounded by the overwhelming scent of plastic and rubber, a sense of serenity washed over me.

Without so much as I thought, I walked towards the corner, grabbing a set of wraps from the shelf, and following the exact movements Austin used each session as I guided them around my knuckles. Then, I placed myself in front of a hanging bag that remained completely still before I landed my first punch, and the jerk of the chain filled the room.

Austin

Each strike to the bag held only an ounce of the fury that danced across Ally's features. Her posture rigid, never loosing tension even as she dropped her right shoulder to land a fierce blow to the lower right side of the bag.

Then her left arm swung out with a formation better than I had seen from her so far and hit the plastic layer with a resounding pop, and she took a breath before swinging her arm again, only this time slapping the bag with her palm. Her right hand came up, and she pushed at the swinging bag so hard the stand wavered before she was covering her face with her wrapped hands.

She was still for a moment, and then her body shook on the softest sob.

I walked up behind her, bringing my hands up and resting them carefully on her shoulders.

"Ally."

I kept my voice low, and to my surprise, she didn't jump. Just straightened, letting her hands fall from her face to her sides. Without a word, she stepped forward and my hands fell from her shoulders. She turned to face me, looking up at me with sad eyes that were shinning with unshed tears.

I caught a glimpse of her trembling lip and a cascade of tears before she tucked her chin. She sniffled, wrapping her arms around her torso and squeezing tightly. A shuttered breath filled the room before she spoke, "I'm sorry. I –." Her voice broke, and suddenly I was reaching for her, grasping her shoulder and pulling her into me.

Muffled cries filled the room as she gripped my shirt, burying her face into my shoulder.

My breathes were harsh as I wound my arms around her, rocking her as fought to control the thoughts running through my head at the sound of her sobs. The hand that rested on the small of her back clenched in a tight fist while the other rested atop of her head as I shushed her softly.

I wanted to know, needed to know what had happened, and despite my comforting exterior, I fought against the demanding part of my nature that wanted answers now.

How was it that this girl had left here less than thirty-six hours ago with a smile brighter than I had ever seen, and now stood in my arms a sobbing mess while she was supposed to be with her parents?

Ally sniffled, and I took calming breathes through my nose as I squeezed her a little tighter.

Comforting others had never been a strong suit of mine, but with this girl I acted on an instinct I didn't know I possessed. After only two weeks, I had found that caring for Ally came naturally, and what I was feeling after so little time had blindsided me.

So much so that I hadn't given myself time to think about it but seeing her in this state only made those feelings boil to the surface with blinding heat, giving me no other option other than to feel them – even if I had no idea what they meant.

With another deep breath, she pulled from me, but I held her firmly at arm's length as she avoided my questioning gaze. Her eyes fell to the floor, wet eyelashes brushing her cheeks allowing one more stray tear to fall. Slowly, I reached up, placing my palm against her cheek and brushing it away with the pad of my thumb.

Tucking my chin, I guided her gaze up to meet mine, and I forced an even breath the moment her broken eyes met mine.

"What happened?"

"I," she tried, "Dallas, he –."

My heart seemed to drop to my feet at the sound of his name falling from her lips, her voice full of sorrow and absolute heartache.

"He," she took a deep breath, growing frustrated as her voice cracked again.

She took a step back, and I let her; watching as she wiped her face harshly.

"My dad is the Captain for the Colorado Springs police department, and he found Dallas's autopsy report." Her voice was clipped, and I was growing more and more confused. With raised brows, I eyed her warily. "There were traces of drugs in his system along with alcohol."

I blinked, dread draping over me like a blanket.

"Drugs," she whispered in disbelief.

With parted lips, I took a step towards her, searching for the right words to say, but she shook her head again. Her face morphed; her eyes snapping to mine, and that fury from minutes ago burned bright.

"He got behind the fucking wheel under the influence of drugs and alcohol."

She turned her back towards me, clasping her fingers at the nap of her neck. In the dim moonlight, I could see spots of blood seeping through her wrap and held back a wince.

Glancing down at my own knuckles, I could see the reminisce of all the times I had worn the same injury. Remembering all the times I had taken my anger out on a plastic bag with my bare fists that resulted in a painful reminder for days afterward.

I turned my attention back to her just in time to see her hunch her shoulders, and another round of sobs began filling the room, stronger and louder than the last. Her body shook from the force of each one, and when I seen her knees buckle, my arms were around her, cradling her as I sunk to the ground with her as she clutched her chest, and I clutched her hands. Crossing my legs, I pulled her into my lap, my chest flush with her back as she folded into me with ease.

"He had something to tell me, that was it." Her words were hysterical through broken sobs. "He was sorry, he said he was sorry."

I didn't understand a single word, just squeezed her tighter as she broke in my arms. And the strong girl I had grown accustomed to was now buried beneath ruble, but the only person that could dig her out was herself

No matter how much I wanted to do it for her.

So, what did you guys think?

It's a little heavier, and it is gonna be that way for the next few chapters. Plus, we are about to start seeing some Auslly ;)

Sorry it has been a minute since I posted, I've been so busy with work and school. For my "Serenity" readers, I promise to have chapter up this week! I have it halfway written!

I hope to have another chapter of this up by next week!

Thanks for reading!

-meg