Stand By Me

Chapter Thirteen

The best thing about being a close friend and secretary to Micaela Kincaide had to be how much time they could spend shopping and, while most of their purchases had to do with Micaela and her dainty little figure that could get away with everything, Amy would buy herself something once in a while.

Mr. Martin—Tad was his name, right?—was going to go to the grand opening too but he sat at the table upon getting home and simply gave her a dirty look, spotting the Oatmeal cookies that she had been devouring and the way that Ruth had been pouring her yet another glass of milk, fussing over her houseguest with an almost frightening excitement.

All the rest of her kids were away now, scattered all over and her grandson, James, was somewhere off. The older woman had gone oddly still when Amy had asked her where and she'd simply shaken her head, fiddling with kitchen utensils until Amy focused back on her food. Amy got the feeling that the woman was completely out of sorts, floundering in the aftermath of whatever it was that had apparently scattered what had remained of her family.

Tad, on the other hand, was proving to be the strangest person Amy had yet met in this town and, seeing as how that included a woman and little girl who had come back from the dead, that was saying something. From the first moment he had learned that she was the newest guest, he had regarded her with a childish annoyance, almost pouting as he watched Ruth fuss over her.

Apparently, he and the dead woman had married and divorced three times before she went over that cliff in Switzerland or, rather, had not gone over that cliff. In addition, he was at war with his stepson, who was upset that Tad had let his biological son get away with his ex-wife after everything he had done.

Considering the fact that the said ex-wife had keep a mother from a child and given that child to the man that she had cheated on with his brother only to flee with that brother and inform the ex-husband who was raising the kidnapped little girl that his child was dead and that the little girl he loved wasn't actually his through a letter…

Amy highly doubted that after all of the lies, she would have believed some letter…

She knew full well what Micaela would have thought of Babe Carey. Micaela was a firm believer that mothers were overrated and not needed and that any child could survive without one. Amy had wonderful memories with her mother and had never imagined that any mother could be cruel or heartless to her own child… not until she'd met Gwen and learned that bad parents came in both genders.

It had been a hell of a shock for her and she'd always remember how stunned she'd been, thrown full force the knowledge that not everybody got the kind of love they deserved. Even when Owen had taken her in, even when he'd started those attacks against her and any chink in her armor he could find, she'd had some kind of safety net, an older, stronger knowledge that her mother had always, always loved.

She'd gotten away from Owen okay, managed to escape him without any of the kind of inner sort of rotting that so many kids she had met who had come from similar homes she'd met had been touched with, the kind of inner hurt that Maggie and Frankie had always worked so hard to hide.

When Owen had told her that she was a worthless piece of garbage and meant nothing to anybody, she had known better and, no matter how much it would sting, she'd been able to get over it. When Gwen had said the same to Frankie or Maggie, they had always believed her and for that, Amy would never forgive her.

She'd given Maggie all the support and caring she could muster up, had continued to refuse to let Maggie push her away and Maggie had finally given in, letting the softer, sweeter girl satisfy some need that Gwen and her bottles had never even noticed needed to be filled. And Amy would never understand how she'd never been able to summon up the same amount of caring for Frankie… or, worse yet, she did and she really didn't want to think about that side of things.

Now, standing outside the door to the apartment that Maggie shared with Jonathon, she hesitated, considering and shuffling through things, older memories of watching Maggie crumble piece by piece at Gwen's words and then newer images of watching Maggie stand before Bianca Montgomery and crumble piece by piece by the words that Maggie seemed both hurt and stunned by.

Amy had nothing against Bianca Montgomery, not really and she had attempted to stay out of it and who said she had anything to do with everything that gone with Paul Cramer and Babe Carey and everything else that had exploded all at once? She wasn't a mother and doubted she'd ever meet some girl she'd settle down with like that but something about attacking a woman who had just recently gotten her baby back struck Amy as inhumanely nasty.

So the question remained, what was she going to do with Bianca Montgomery?

She gnawed a lip thoughtfully, staring down at her feet and scuffing a toe of her heel against the floor. Usually, she'd simply talk to herself and work through whatever was bothering her. She'd always talked to herself, even as a little girl and she remembered her mother doing the same thing as she kept up the house and worked and Amy was sure she had gotten it from her.

Now, though, she was hesitant to just talk to herself.

For years, her world had revolved around Maggie and somehow making sure that her closest friend and the girl she considered her sister got all the love and care and affection she could ever want or need and then some more to make up for Gwen's stupendous mothering techniques. It had been her purpose and her reason for existing and it had served her well.

Was this any different?

No, no… Maggie needed happiness, she deserved it after everything and, while Amy had nothing against Jonathon Lavery, she wasn't an idiot. Whatever they had was something that wasn't doing Maggie any good, wasn't giving her the kind of affection that she so desperately needed. There was no love between Jonathon and Maggie and so what was there to lose?

Amy sighed, tapping her bag against her thigh and deep in thought. From what she had been pulled into in Bianca's place, which was very nicely decorated by the way, she got the feeling that, as of right now, Bianca, no matter how sweet or amazing or loving she was usually, was not in the right state of mind to be shoved with Maggie.

The look in Maggie's eyes as she had finally fled had been silent and painful proof of that.

Amy would not be worrying about Bianca Montgomery. She sounded like a nice girl and all usually but as far as Amy was concerned, she needed a nice foot up the ass for her nastiness and again, it came down to Maggie and her happiness. Okay, something was settled at least, she thought with a beam of satisfaction, rolling her shoulders.

Right now, she would focus only on Maggie.

There was a tremor of fear just beneath her skin and she fought her way past it, having learned how to it at an all too early age. Now, slipping out of her car, Erin wrapped herself more tightly in her coat, hooking her keys to her belt and then watched the Laundromat, or what was left of it, with dark eyes.

It was a dump, a trashed old place with rats and roaches and other things that Erin wasn't afraid of, not after everything that had gone on before.

Erin licked her lips, closing her eyes for a moment and standing with her arms across her middle, the only human shape in the empty place, hating the emotion pumping through her veins like some fine and elegant drug, something that hit fast and lasted a long time and left you with far too much of an aftermath to deal with.

She took off, long legs strong as she moved, and she reached behind her, satisfying herself by checking the handle of the hammer she carried at her back, the only thing other than Jonathon that made her feel safe anymore. Jonathon would be furious when he found out that she had come out here along and she felt a momentary pang of guilt, that she didn't just call him right now.

But she had to see if he had, by some miracle, just been playing some cruel joke on her, some heartless game to see her fear take over and cloud her eyes. He always had liked that…

Pushing against the door, she immediately found herself overwhelmed by the smell, something heavy and strong that made her dart back out and clap one hand over her mouth, too-long sleeve of the green sweater she wore beneath her coat warming her chilled lips and the soft fabric an odd opposite of what she was feeling as her heart rate kicked up a notch.

When she finally slunk back in, heavy flashlight held in one hand, she was a bit more intimidated, more fearful but she went in anyway, stepping as silently as she could into the old place, grateful that she had switched from her heels to her sneakers when she had run back out to the car for the flashlight.

It was a mess, coated in dust and dirt and grime everywhere her eyes and the beam of light landed, dancing around before she got her hand to stop shaking and managed to really begin her explorations. And then, almost by accident, her eyes caught and held the streaks in the floor, caked up grime having been disturbed after what must have been years and she bit her lip, attempting to adjust the light spilling across it.

Streaks and footsteps that had disturbed the ground like that, kicking and playing with dirt and mess that had been untouched for so long that everything was almost forgotten, that everything was almost buried.

It was a throw-away thought, an odd bit of her subconscious poet/philosopher that she violently and hatefully despised, and she bit it back, taking off across the floor and knowing full well that Jonathon was too careful and too quiet after a life with Patrick Lavery to disturb anything like this.

Whoever had made this mess wasn't afraid of anything and if it was him that he really had no reason to be afraid, huh? He'd escaped once… he'd probably get to do it again right? It was a familiar train of thought and she barely entertained it, knowing that it wouldn't help to blame him after all these years but knowing that it wouldn't hurt either.

The washers and dryers that ran across and along two of the walls were ruined, the glass of their fronts cracked and shattered; in other cases, simply gone completely, most likely victims of teenagers who had longed for a fun dare and to spook a few of their best buddies.

Erin studied them, quickly lowering her light when she caught sight of the furry animal that had made up a nest in one of the smaller dryers, something that vaguely resembled a cat but was way too big for Erin to believe it was really a cat and she kept going, shaking her hair from her face and wishing she had something to tie it back with.

The door to the back offices had long since been taken down and lay in broken pieces before her and she was once again glad she wasn't going to be trying to climb over them in her heels, something she would have been doing if she hadn't caught sight of her trainers laying in her backseat, just waiting for her.

She stepped carefully through the pieces, threading into the back and had a sudden memory of when Jonathon had taken her to Halloween Horror Nights, years before and how happy she had been with the knowledge that she was really safe even when she had crazy people jumping out at her, screaming and waving cleavers. It had been a pleasant sort of fear, one of the happier moments after they had run away, gotten out and lived on the road, searching for some way to make sure he was never coming back.

This fear, staring into the hall where she could see several closed doors, was different, a jagged sort of terror that strangled her throat and made her light jump again, bouncing before she managed to stop the shaking. Bracing herself with any bravery she had, Erin forced herself forward, opening the door closest to her and finding it utterly shredded, empty of anything but trash.

The next door was the same and as she turned, she eyed the door at the end of the hall warily, taking a deep breath before forcing herself forward, slipping in and stopping to observe the inside of what had once been an office. The old desk, once massive and no doubt heavy, had been overturned and papers decorated every inch of the floor.

This was the room, she was sure of it and she quickly darted in, closing the door behind her and stalking through, searching for anything that Jonathon hadn't managed to clear out and she found, to her surprise and relief, that there was nothing left. She checked anyway, searching everywhere for any remains of his nasty little game and found none.

At least not until her eyes accidentally caught sight of the object sitting on a shelf between a box and an old bottle of Vodka… or, to judge by the lack of dust anywhere on the smooth glass, not that old a bottle. With her heart rate once again kicking up in an unsettling kind of way, she streaked across the room, yanking down the folded sheets and then biting her lip as she read her name across the top.

A few minutes later she was out of the old Laundromat, flinging herself into the car and locking the doors, entire body shaking as she shoved the key into the ignition and started the car, swinging out of the old lot and taking off, breath coming shallow as she worked to ignore his nasty little gift to her that lay in the seat beside her…

Jonathon was struggling with his black tie when he let her into the apartment and, if it wasn't so pathetic, she'd have laughed at the baffled look on his face as he struggled with it in the mirror, sighing as he studied her in the reflection in the glass, lifting his eyebrows slightly at her amused expression.

"Something funny about me fighting this thing for control?" he asked and she laughed slightly, shaking her head.

"No, no… it's just that I'm glad I don't have to worry about those things."

"Yeah, you should be…" He gave an explosive sigh, shaking his head and turning from the mirror, regarding the brunette with pleased eyes and a half-cocked grin, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe its fate… maybe I should go ahead and put on a leash, huh? It feels the same way anyway and I might get some extra attention."

Amy shrugged as well, biting back and a slight twinge of guilt. She ran fingers along her bag, studying him and finally asked where Maggie was, feeling both guilty and uncomfortable about seeing Maggie after everything that had gone on in Bianca Montgomery's so nicely decorated home.

"In there… she's just finishing up for tonight and doing all those double and triple checks and all those other things that women do before they go out."

She laughed, unable to help it and finally headed into the bedroom, immediately spotting Maggie in front of the mirror, fiddling with her earrings and mumbling to herself under her breath. She looked gorgeous and Amy grinned to herself, always loving to see Maggie dressed up and ready for something other than the closed off mode that Frankie had always hated her being in during their childhood.

One of the few things Frankie had said that Amy had ever agreed with.

Maggie glanced at her sideways, offering a half-hearted smile before going back to her earring battle, letting out a soft swear when an edge apparently caught her lobe. Rolling her eyes, Amy tossed her bag onto the bed, going to the mirror and slapping Maggie's hand away before she carved up her ear so badly she'd never be able to wear earrings again.

They were those hoops that Amy never liked so much but, like the loyal friend she was, she helped Maggie slip them on, biting her lip as she studied the scratch Maggie had left, not deep enough to break the skin but hard enough to leave a line of pale against Maggie's warm skin.

With a grin, she thought back to the night that Amy, in an angry hiss that rings had been created by male oppressors to take over and subjugate women. Maggie had completely lost it, falling back in the couch with tears streaming down her cheeks and gasping that Amy was being utterly ridiculous.

Turns out that Amy had been semi-wrong and that rings were actually some big time expression of love, stemming from the fact that the older civilizations had believed that a vein that came straight from the heart lied in the ring finger. What Frankie had laughingly referred to as her "psychotically feminist Rambo-ette stage" had finally passed and she had gotten over her violent ring hatred—she had even gone to see the movie and geez, was Liv a looker in those ears or what?

"What?"

Amy just shook her head, grinning slightly, fingering the hoop of gold and amused despite herself as the glitter of laughter in Maggie's gaze. "Could these hoops get any bigger, Maggie… you look like you could set them on fire and have tigers leap through…" she trailed off when her laughter finally broke, giggling as Maggie rolled her eyes, examining Amy's work.

"At least my hoops can't strangle me," Maggie cracked, jerking her chin and flicking Amy's dangling earrings with a crooked grin, chuckling as she dodged a smack from the brunette, darting around the bed to get away from the taller woman who now watched her with narrowed, laughing eyes.

"Stop that… you're not that funny and, by the way, I have not yet gotten a compliment about my dress." Amy cocked an eyebrow, waving at her figure with girly hand-movements, like one of those game show girls who show off stuff. "I mean, it's all new and never before worn…"

"You don't have enough boob for that thing," Maggie giggled and then gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. Amy, for her part, let out a gasp of absolute surprise, jaw dropping at Maggie's audacity at mocking the fact that she'd never exactly been happy with her, ahem, chest area.

"Don't make fun of my tits, Maggie… you…" She stopped, flustered, grabbing for anything she could and finally managing to blurt out, "You short midget!"

There were a few minutes of their shocked silence and then an explosion of muffled giggles, Maggie hunching her shoulders and dropping her head, shaking in silent laughter. When it finally ended and they could look at each other without starting up again, Amy grinned, watching as Maggie, rubbing her ribs, started shoving her feet into her heels, dropping onto the bed to fasten them okay.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine." When Maggie didn't get an answer, she looked up from her shoe-work, studying the odd look Amy wore, the one she remembered from when she would sneak into Amy's room at all hours of the night and refuse to talk about whatever it was that had driven her out of her home to begin with.

"Don't look at me like that, Ames. I'm fine, seriously, you just caught me and Bianca on a bad day and I dragged you right into it like some human shield—"

"Well," Amy began quickly, darting forward a few steps, "I mean, if you need me to act as human shield—"

But Maggie cut her off, standing and testing her weight on her heels a moment or so before offering Amy a grin, and this time it was a real one, not the fragile one she'd received when she'd slipped in a little while before. "Remember I said a while ago, about how Bianca and I aren't exactly as close as we used to be? I meant that and I don't want you worry about it, okay?"

"But—"

"No," Maggie said and her voice was strong, steely, and her eyes were the same as she stepped up closer to Amy, setting her hands on the brunette's shoulders and lifting an eyebrow. "You used to tell me that the past couldn't hurt me, that after I dealt with it, it wouldn't be able to hurt me and you were right. You were right and I have everything thing I could ever need or want now. You and Jonathon are my world; you two are all I'll ever need."

"Maggie—"

"I swear, okay… I've been whining and whimpering about everything for years and I have so much you know? I have you and I have Jonathon and, god know, David is still as psychotically over-protective as ever. Even more so, in fact so, hey, what do I have to complain about?"

Amy was silent, studying her oldest friend, the one person that had always been there when she needed to get away from Owen and his yelling. Maggie needed her and she didn't even see it, couldn't even see it and Amy swallowed, considering before nodding, agreeing that Maggie did, indeed, have everything she needed.

And when Maggie turned away from her to check her reflection, Amy uncrossed her fingers and let out a very soft, nervous breath, nodding to herself and knowing she had made the right decision… Maggie needed her now, and there was no longer any doubt in her mind, and she decided, with an odd sort of relief in the pit of her stomach, that the decision to move to Pine Valley was the best one she'd ever made.