Chapter's title comes from "Forest Fires" by Axel Flovent.
I personally like this chapter a lot. Every detail matters!
Thank you all for reading!
Chapter 4: Your heart isn't safe
Bea stands in front of a mirror.
She's glowing. The bruises are slowly disappearing. Their colors are tamed, and their shapes are blurry. They no longer look like they were just freshly engraved on her pale skin. They no longer remind her of her failure to protect herself. Instead, they are reminders that she's a survivor.
She grows to embrace a new rhythm of life at Wentworth. The house itself is still as welcoming as it was on her very first day. It wraps Bea into its warm ambiance and its colorful people. She claims her place slowly, dipping her toes into the water first, and then diving into meaningful conversations with everyone that lives there.
She learns to be convincing when she speaks, and her leadership makes the other women respect her. It's strange at first, and she wonders if they're not playing with her and pretending to be her friend while planning her demise. She's always looking over her shoulder, expecting someone to stab her in the back.
She never lets her guard down, until a fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night and everyone runs to her room to make sure she's safe.
She leaves her armor behind when she realizes she hasn't just found friends.
She's found a family.
Allie leans against a brick wall.
She stares blankly at the various cars passing her by while counting down the minutes that separate her next meeting with Bea. It isn't a busy street, but there's still enough movement to keep her busy. She doesn't recognize any of the vehicles, and barely pays enough attention to notice what color or shape they are. She waits patiently until her sight catches a familiar man walking down the street.
She embraces him, warmly and with a little too much enthusiasm, but he doesn't complain. She's confident when she asks him what services he's looking for, and her eyes light up when he offers her a price she can't refuse. He's a regular, and regular aren't shy in asking what they want.
She asks him to pay first, because she's learned that people could not be trusted in the streets. He gives her the money and they head to a motel, one that Allie knows won't be raided by cops at this time of the evening. She lets him peel her clothes off until she's bared under his touch and moaning things she knows he wants to hear. It doesn't take long and soon, he's done using her and leaves her in the shadows of the room.
She leaves her clothes on the floor and her eyes scan the room.
She forces herself to not think of Bea.
She reminds herself that she's stronger when she's alone.
Bea meets with Bridget numerous times.
She receives whispered advices and understanding smiles rather than the brutal orders she's gotten used to. She's always consulted when it comes to important decisions, and she beams when she meets with her lawyer for the first time to talk about divorce. Every document she signs, every plan she makes, they all exist only to bring her closer to a brighter future.
She never misses a meeting. Even when she gets sick, even when she's so tired that her eyelids are closing by themselves, even when she'd rather be anywhere else in the world, she goes and talks, and listens. Sometimes she gets mad and cries, wondering why she'd ever agreed to be here in the first place. Sometimes she smiles and laughs and feels immensely grateful to be alive.
She feels more hopeful than she's ever been before.
Allie meets with a few members of the Red Right Hand.
It isn't something she really wants to do, but it's the only way she knows to hear news about Kaz. She was Kaz's right hand, and people still respect her, even when she's high and her eyes are so red that she might as well be bleeding out.
She listens to everyone and tries to memorize any information related to Kaz's well-being. Most of the time, she clenches her fists when they tell her that Kaz is becoming someone entirely different than the woman she used to know.
She misses many meetings. It doesn't really matter. The Red Right Hand used to be her priority, but it isn't anymore. Whenever they talk to her about their past actions, she wishes she could forget all of it. She knows it's something she must live with for the rest of her life.
She still attends every other meeting and longs for the day she'll hear positive news.
Bea spends some time with Boomer.
It's hard. She can't get past Boomer's defenses, no matter how much she tries. She thinks Boomer will never accept her as part of the group, until she gets sick with a gut-wrenching stomach ache that leaves her to bed for two entire days. Boomer never leaves her side, bringing her food and drinks at every hour of the day. When Bea heals, Boomer looks at her like a proud mother would.
Boomer's fierce loyalty leaves her speechless. Bea locks herself in her room one day, feeling like she can't do anything anymore. Boomer forces her way in and distracts her from the most complexes issues with humor and clever comebacks. It makes Bea cheeks hurt from how hard she laughs, and she feels her body rejuvenating itself.
She feels more joy than she's had in years.
Allie laughs at the cardboard box.
She's alone, in the alley, and it's the middle of the day. She can't focus on what is going on around her, because she's too busy being lost in her head. She's riding a high so powerful that she struggles to discern where reality ends and illusions starts. It doesn't really matter, for she feels as pure and innocent as the very first time she'd fell in love.
She doesn't remember why she took the gear this time. She just remembers needing a fix, again. She remembers the lines, and the rush in her mind when they'd kick in. She thinks she could be shot in the heart and survive. She makes conversation with the cardboard box next to her, and she wishes she had someone to make out with. Anyone would be fine, but no one is here with her.
She's filled with sadness when she realizes that the drugs are her most loyal friend.
Bea exchanges words with Maxine almost every early evening, when the other woman's medicine is draining her energy, but keeping her awake.
They share way too many cups of tea to count, and Bea still admires Maxine's softness like the very first day. She finds out that breast cancer is the affliction stealing Maxine's life. The truth puts tears in Bea's eyes, but a smile perpetually haunts Maxine's, as if she were forever immune to the hardness of her life. Bea thinks Maxine must be an invincible angel.
She spends too much time worrying about Maxine, and Maxine does the same for her, and they both become ridiculously close in a short amount of time. She swears to protect Maxine from the cancer, even if she's well aware that it's a battle that isn't hers to fight. It doesn't stop her from accompanying her friend to all her medical appointments.
It's harder than she expects, and Maxine holds her hand like Bea is the one who's dying.
She feels humble.
Allie uses some of her money to buy food everyday.
It isn't much, mostly cheap sandwiches and random drinks. She doesn't steal anymore. She almost got caught once, and prison wasn't something she wanted to add to her long list of mistakes. She stares at the more expensive products for a long time before she finally lets go, accepting that she still can't afford them. She could, but that would require her to stop using, and she isn't there yet.
She chews a sandwich that tastes like nothing and finishes it within minutes, making the hunger disappear for a few hours. She dreams of a warm meal and she drools when the scents of the restaurants from the streets around her reach her nose. She seeks a temporary shelter to take a shower and is gifted with a bowl of homemade soup.
She swallows the rich, delicious liquid like it's her last meal on earth.
Bea answers Franky's knock on her door with a smile on her face.
Franky always mysteriously appears in Bea's room right after she's done with a meeting with Bridget. It doesn't surprise Bea anymore. She talks about how it went, answers Franky's questions, and quickly redirects the conversation on something else. She loves how easy it is to talk to Franky. There's no expectations, no pressure, no judgement.
What she doesn't know is that Franky juggles with the different verbal and non-verbal cues she perceives from Bea. Franky always finds a way for Bea's voice to be the loudest one, and she knows exactly which buttons to push to challenge Bea without ever crossing the line. She makes snarky remarks, and soon enough, Bea finds herself unable to imagine herself without Franky's daily words.
When Bea carelessly argues with Franky, she feels confident.
Allie is at war with a client.
It isn't her first battle, and it won't be the last, but this night, she's had less gear than usual, and she's out for blood. She screams and even punches the man in the face when he refuses to leave the motel room after they're done with business. He tells her he loves her, and she frowns, unable to believe him. He tells her he's fallen for her, and she laughs, and shakes her head, and orders him to leave her alone.
She isn't sure what love is, but she knows it isn't a quick fuck in a dirty motel.
He finally walks out, and she rolls her eyes when she's alone. She sits on the bed, her mind lost within itself. Love, she scoffs at the thought. There's no such thing as love between her and her clients, and even if there was some kind of affection, she's attracted to women. He isn't the first one to be fooled by the nature of their relationship.
She groans when she realizes she's just lost another client, another source of income.
Bea calls Debbie.
She longs for her daughter's presence. She tells her about every small insignificant thing that's happening in her life, and Debbie listens, laughs, and encourages her to speak more. It brings a smile on Bea's face every time. She promises her daughter to protect her, to love her to the moon and back for as long as she lives, and Debbie does the same. Bea hangs desperately to the one aspect of her life that remains unchanged.
She asks her for forgiveness for the way they left thing, that fateful day at the airport. Debbie says it's alright, even tells her that she's doing good and making new friends in the foreign land.
But her voice shakes, and it sounds like she's trying too hard, and Bea doesn't believe a word that Debbie says.
It's fine though, because Debbie will be back in a few weeks to spend time with her mother, and Bea thinks that whatever is broken between them can be fixed then.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, lessens the depth of her love for her daughter.
At some point, Bea thinks she hears a male voice calling Debbie's name.
She lets it echo in her head long after the call is over.
Three weeks come and go, during which Bea heals and Allie fights with herself.
Even though Bea's meetings are scattered through time and space, sometimes jammed all in one day, sometimes discreet and rare, one encounter becomes a daily obligation. Everyday, at five in the morning, Bea walks to the park and sits on her usual bench. Allie always shows up to spend time with her and it soon becomes an unofficial contract that they meet every morning before the sun is up.
Sometimes, Allie is high, and she makes no sense when she opens her mouth. Sometimes, she's sober, and she looks like she just crawled her way out of her grave. Sometimes, she barely says a word and just lets Bea talks about anything the older woman wants to talk about. Sometimes, there's no marks on her body, no hint that a client requested Allie's services, and it makes Bea breathe a little easier.
Most of the time, Allie bites her lower lip and lets her gaze work its way up and down Bea's figure. It sends tingles all over Bea's body.
Allie always tries to be there for Bea, and Bea does the same.
No matter in what state of mind Allie shows up, she's always surrounded by a halo of childish innocence that spreads to Bea. She's always looking at Bea with lust, affection and trust in her eyes. She always has her full attention directed at Bea.
No matter how shitty her night is, Allie always cares about Bea.
Hell, no matter how shitty her entire life is, Allie wears optimism like a superhero cape.
And Bea is being charmed by Allie a bit more every time they meet.
It scares Bea, but for once in her life, fear isn't synonymous with pain.
Three weeks and one day after their first meeting, Bea receives news from Harry.
It's a simple text message, one that seems innocent to the untrained eyes, but that sends Bea's mind in panic the instant she reads it.
Hi. I want to see you before I sign any divorce paper.
She immediately changes her phone number, afraid that he'll start harassing her. The rest of the day flies by, filled with anger and disappointment. It drives Bea mad, and in her impulsive moments, she makes her scars bleed again when her fingernails scratch them too intensely. She watches the blood leak from the thin lines and wishes she could disappear within them.
She feels like a failure for hurting herself again.
She feels like doing it again anyway.
When she falls asleep after spending most of the night awake and tormented, she forgets to set her alarm, and thus, forgets Allie for the first time. She oversleeps.
That night, Allie waits.
She waits and waits and waits until the sun blinds her.
She realizes she misses Bea more than she'd anticipated, and it destroys her.
It absolutely shatters her because missing someone like she misses Bea should be a crime. It should be a fucking crime because her heart is bleeding for someone who deserves so much more than her, and her chest is being crushed with the weight of her feelings, and her throat is being lacerated with all the words she can't pronounce.
She can't fucking believe it.
Until that moment, she had managed to convince herself that what she felt for Bea was purely physical, and now, she's being slapped in the face with the bloody truth. She fucking cares about Bea, on a level that defies the borders of friendship and sneaks into the land of romantic feelings, a land Allie had tried really hard to avoid until now.
She finds herself walking to the shelter and staring at its closed doors until her legs ache. She walks away a mere ten minutes before Bea rushes outside, having heard from one of the other woman that there was a strange blonde woman waiting outside the house for no reason.
Bea spends the following night awake, fighting sleep to make sure she doesn't miss Allie again. Her eyelids are heavier than ever, but she jumps in her room, wanders around the house and even stops to talk with Vera, who is working the night shift now. Bea is determined to stay up all night.
She leaves the shelter at four thirty in the morning, stepping into the dark, dashing towards her personal source of light. She waits anxiously and every minute feels like a thousand years, but eventually, she sees an hesitant Allie walking up to her.
Allie doesn't sit this time, just stares at Bea, silently pleading her to make this quick, to break her heart as quickly as she stole it, and Bea sees defeat triumphing in the bluest orbs.
Allie is waiting, again, for Bea to dump her and tell her it was all a terrible mistake. After all, it was all too good to be true and she should have seen it coming. Nothing good ever happens to her.
Bea can hear her heart cracking and breaking at the sight.
It's ridiculous, how close they'd gotten in a few weeks.
Bea almost gets up and pulls the other woman into her arms, but it feels like her arms would become a cage for Allie's fragile silhouette. Bea only locks her eyes into Allie's worried ones and asks her to sit.
Later that night, when Bea falls asleep and lets her head rest on Allie's shoulder, and when Allie's arm protectively wraps around her, something shifts between the two women.
They'll never be the same.
"Don't you think we should see each other in daylight?" Allie ponders as she looks up to the one star that shines through the city's polluted skies. "I can tell you're tired. You're not a morning person, are you?"
"I'm fine," Bea replies, her eyes firmly fixed on Allie's as she hides yet another yawn.
Every time they meet, Bea sees the way Allie nearly runs towards the bench, her body and soul much more exhausted than Bea's, and Bea would rather fall asleep on the cold hard ground than she admits she's tired. She's not stupid. She's seen the way Allie's eyes light up when they meet, as if the previous hours suddenly stopped existing, and she feels the same way.
"You're such a terrible liar," Allie scoffs. "Go on then, close your eyes. I promise I won't disappear."
"I'm not tired," Bea stubbornly insists, glaring at Allie.
It takes a second for Allie to give up the fight.
"Bea," Allie clicks her tongue, "Stop staring. I get it, you like me."
"You're so full of yourself," Bea grins, not denying the accusation.
"You like it."
Bea rolls her eyes, but she isn't fast enough to avoid Allie's hands poking at her sides and arms.
"Come on, admit it. I mean, why else would you still go out at this shitty hour? Don't tell me… You just like hanging out with me," Allie sings with the most satisfied look on her face.
The words are light. They're not intended to be serious, and soon, the two women engage in a playful battle for dominance as they gently shove each other. It's funny until their fingers brush together and their hands can't seem to let go of each other.
Then, it's serious.
It's longing stares and deafening silences. It's like receiving a bucket of ice cold water on the head at the end of a night spent downing shots and sipping exquisite cocktails. It's like a vivid paradisiac dream being interrupted by the loudest alarm. It's a thousand panic buttons being slammed simultaneously in Bea's mind.
Bea squeezes Allie's hand lightly before releasing it. It's something they started doing, even though Bea isn't sure what it means, what it is, but she enjoys it.
"For real, don't you want to meet after getting a full night of sleep? At least, think about it?" Allie suggests, and Bea nods, unable to deny her anything.
Allie lowers herself and sits on the edge of the bench as she rests her head against its back. She shoves her hands in her pocket and looks up to the black firmament.
"Are things still good at Wentworth?" she asks.
It's an innocent question, but it's really just another way to ask Bea if she's safe.
"Yeah," Bea smiles genuinely like she can't quite believe it herself. "I've started looking for places to live. For me and Debbie. The, um, the divorce papers are still left out there and I don't know what Harry is doing."
He wants to meet her, but she doesn't tell Allie about that.
Bea hasn't told Allie about the depth of the violence she'd endured, and the blonde never asks, never talks about it. She lets Bea mention it first, and then she listens and assembles the pieces of the puzzle she's given. She learns more about Bea than she could ever ask for.
Bea risks glancing at Allie, only to see her looking back at her attentively.
"I'm just waiting. It's a bit scary," Bea admits, her head high and her posture as straight as an 'i'. "I think I have a good chance to get out of this now. For the first time in so long, I see a future without him in my life. I want it. I want that future, for me and for Debbie. She deserves that."
"So do you," Allie points out. "Don't ever forget that."
"I don't know about that," Bea responds sourly. "I've waited too long. I've asked my daughter to leave. I've got no money. I've got no friends."
"You got me."
Bea shoots another perplexed glance at Allie with a question stuck in her mind.
Are they really friends?
Or are they less than friends?
Are they only the result of a lucky encounter that morphed into a regular thing? Are they just a temporary duo sharing secrets under the moonlight but too afraid to coexist in the light of the sun?
Or worse, are they becoming more than friends?
Are they going to shine brighter than the sun?
Are they going to burn themselves if they get too close?
Bea doesn't want to think too much about it. She refuses to label what they are, to give in to that pull in her stomach. She'd rather let it be, without questioning it, and for what feels like the billionth time, Allie doesn't push her.
"Debbie misses her father. She never tells me, but I know her enough. I can't stop her from seeing him." Bea sighs, regrets crawling out of her heart.
"You're doing the best you can," Allie offers.
Bea nods, but she doesn't answer. Her lips form a thin line.
"What about the money?" Allie asks. "Did you have a job before all of this?"
"I owned a salon. I'm a hairdresser. I was one of the best in there. Harry asked me to quit."
Allie pushes herself back up on the bench, so she's leveled with Bea. She waits, hesitates, before she asks:
"Asked you? Or forced you?"
Allie doesn't push Bea to speak about personal matters, but she refuses to let her distort reality with words that don't represent the truth.
"He forced me," Bea concedes. "If I'd stayed there, he would have left me, and he would have taken Debbie with him. I couldn't risk it. I stopped working and I stayed at home with my daughter. I got to protect her, so I was fine with it."
Allie nods silently, an unreadable look in her eyes. If she had money, she'd buy Bea a brand new salon and she'd personally beg each of her old clients to come back. But she doesn't, and her brain is buzzing with different ideas to help Bea.
"You can tell me these things," she almost pleads. "I can help you if you'll let me."
She notices Bea squirming on the bench and changes the subject.
She always changes the subject.
"How does my hairstyle look? Give me the professional opinion," She wiggles her brows.
Bea takes five long minutes, pretending to analyze every single hair on Allie's head, much to the younger woman's disbelief.
"I like that color. I reckon you'd look better lighter. I could do it for you one day, give you a cut and color," Bea offers, once again making Allie's heart beat too fast for its own good.
Damn traitorous heart.
"You reckon?" Allie questions, a sudden sceptical veil in her eyes.
She'd try really hard to fix her hair after her first meeting with Bea. It's a long and messy dark-blonde beast, and a lost cause. The thought of Bea's fingers pulling at her hair and massaging her scalp makes her shiver.
"I'll remember that," Allie answers with a smug voice. "You better be as good as you say you are."
"Oh, I am. The best you'll ever have."
Bea winks, actually winks, and Allie nearly loses her mind thinking of other situations where Bea might look at her like that, dominating her with a simple glance.
"How's your work?" Bea asks nonchalantly as Allie squints her eyes at her.
"Do you really want to know or are you just being unnecessarily polite with me?"
Allie had always assumed Bea would never ask her about her job, because Bea surely doesn't seem like she's comfortable talking about sex.
"Is that how people ask you when they want to know?" Bea replies, suddenly shy.
"They don't ask," Allie says with a mocking tone. "Normal people never ask."
"I'm not normal," Bea shrugs as her eyes study the ground.
"Oh yeah, I know that. You're definitely special, Bea Smith."
Because no normal person would ever manage to own Allie the way Bea does.
Because even if Allie is a natural flirt with just about every woman she meets, she wants Bea, and only Bea.
"It's alright," Allie answers, speaking slowly at first to give Bea a chance to change her mind. When Bea nods ever so slightly, Allie continues. "What do you want to know?"
Bea looks as comfortable as a fish on dry land and fiddles with her hands, unable to provide an answer.
"Let's see," Allie thinks out loud. "I start at around nine in the evening and by four in the morning, I'm all done. I don't really take new clients anymore. I have regulars that come and go, and they pay well enough for me to eat and get through the days. Sometimes I see many people in one night, sometimes I don't, it all depends on what they want. It can be as quick as five minutes or as long as four hours. Some times are rougher than others, but recently, it's been manageable."
Bea makes a face and Allie stops talking.
Allie feels no shame for what she does, but she knows how her job is perceived by the rest of the world.
She doesn't fear the haters and the scums that look at her like she's worth nothing. She bites back when someone calls her names. She fights back when someone throws a look of disgust her way.
She takes it all. She takes everything and channels it into strength to prove them that she's more than a stereotype. She's more than a street worker. She's more than a junkie. She's capable of living a respectable life, a life she actually cares about, no matter what they might think.
She talks about sex like she would any other subject. She could explore the subject of sex and orgasms and masturbation for hours and keep a stoic face. Her sexuality and her job are nothing she's scared of.
People can judge all they want, but they will never break her.
The people Allie thought were supposed to love her most gave her shit, so the opinions of strangers are nothing but a bit of dust being blown her way. She can dismiss them all with a small movement of her hand.
And yet, Allie thinks that if Bea turns out to be one those pricks that judge her, she would fall apart.
"What are you thinking?" Allie asks with the smallest voice Bea's ever heard.
"Nothing," Bea quickly says. "I just… Do you do it for the drugs?"
"I do it because I need money," Allie swallows the hesitation away. Her sight hardens. "I do it because, in this world, you can't have shit without money. No food, no water, no roof above your head, no clothes. It's a job. I started when I got kicked out and it's- it's the only thing I know. It just happens to be an unconventional job, something different. And yes, amongst other things, I use the money to get some drugs."
"I'm sorry, I just- Sex isn't really something I-" Bea is at war with herself, struggling to find the right words and the perfect sentences. "Sex with Harry wasn't- …"
"I get it," Allie saves her.
She hates to think about what Bea's words imply. She hates to think about the ways Harry might have ruined sex for Bea. She hates to think that the other woman might only associate sex to pain from now on. She hates to think that someone in this world had touched Bea in a way that hadn't conveyed love and respect.
"You know, what I do, it isn't sex. It's just fucking," Allie explains as she strokes Bea's hair softly, curling her fingers in-between the red strands. "It's just two bodies being together for a moment. Real sex, good sex, it happens in your head too."
There's a fire burning in Bea's stomach, and she wonders if that's what Allie means. She doesn't ask. She isn't ready to find out the answer. She would run away before Allie even open her mouth.
"Do you see clients every night?"
Bea curses herself mentally. What is wrong with her? Is that even the kind of questions that she wants to know the answer to? Is it even something she can ask in the first place?
Allie seems to reach the same conclusion as she stares silently at Bea, genuinely wondering if she needs to answer that question.
"I don't," Allie finally replies. "Like I said, I don't take new clients. I only have regulars, and sometimes they show up, sometimes they don't."
The answer satisfies Bea, whose cheeks are turning pink.
"I- I don't know why I asked that," she stammers with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I didn't really want to know, I just can't control my mouth and my words, and everything's jammed in my head."
"Hey," Allie whispers, delicately taking Bea's hand. "It's alright, I don't mind."
A breeze blows their insecurities away as they fall into a comfortable silence, Allie's hands never leaving Bea's. It's Bea's anchor to this real world while her mind is clouded by images of Allie spending her nights in the arms of strangers that aren't quite strangers anymore. She would never ask Allie to stop, to give up her job, just like she wouldn't look at her differently, but she recognizes the rush of jealousy creeping up in her veins.
Bea closes her eyes, hoping it will make that unpleasant feeling disappear.
It works, but as soon as she reopens her eyes and locks them into Allie's, she feels it coming back.
"It doesn't bother me. I promise." Bea frowns. "I just want you to be safe."
It's the closest she can come to telling Allie that she's worried about her, that she's been worried about her since they met, that if something were to happen to Allie, Bea would stop at nothing to get justice.
It's not the job she's worried about. It's not Allie's behavior that worries her. It's everyone else's.
"You care about me," Allie breathes out, moving closer.
It's a statement, not a question, and the fact makes her stomach do backflip inside. Bea cares about her, she really fucking does, and Allie feels her world bending and shattering under the influence of the untold confession.
Bea cares about her.
Bea cares about where Allie goes at night, when the world turns its sight away from the unfortunate souls that have no choice but to stay awake in the darkness.
Bea cares about what Allie does during the day when the aftermath of the night hits her like a nuclear bomb and leaves her sick of herself and of the world that surrounds her.
Allie can sense, by the way Bea looks like she's about to pass out, that Bea is as shocked as she is by the revelation.
Allie thinks that Bea might be even more shaken by the truth than she is. Petrified, even.
They're so close, and their lips could connect at any moment, but they're also lightyears away from one another, each of them living on their own planet as the bridge that links them is slowly being built.
Bea blinks, moves back a centimeter away, and Allie nods absently, giving the other woman plenty of space to exist.
"What are you thinking about? Allie asks.
Bea thinks that Allie keeps opening herself and talking about her life like she truly trusts her.
She wishes she could do the same, she wants to, but the idea of talking about Harry terrifies her.
"We have a dinner," Bea rambles, her voice as loud as thunder in a clear sky. "It's just a small casual thing. A celebration for one of the woman. She's leaving the shelter and we're going to this restaurant and I thought maybe you could go with us if you're free? You don't have to say yes, there'll be a lot of people, but Franky, that's the woman, she's quite nice once you get to know her. But if you're busy, it's no problem. Really, if you work or if you've already planned something, or - "
"Do you always ramble that much when you ask someone out?"
Allie's glittering blue eyes are magical, and Bea suddenly remembers to give some air to her lungs.
"It's not a date!" Bea protests with little conviction. "There will be more people."
"Never said it was," Allie grins like it's an early Christmas. "It's your words, not mine."
"Will you come or not?" Bea rolls her eyes once again. "We leave at eight tonight."
"You gonna make me?" Allie chuckles, a devilish look in her eyes as Bea turns a shade redder.
Bea gives the address to Allie.
"I might join, but I can't tell for sure," Allie whispers, a resigned look on her face.
Bea doesn't respond.
Franky is beaming. Her life could not get any better, she thinks, even as the clouds open above her and pour their contents on her head.
She tries hard to control the smile that appears on her face when she sees Bridget joining their group outside the shelter. She's managed to convince the psychologist to join them for dinner and it had taken three long days. Bridget had resisted, but Franky had begged and begged, and she hadn't let go.
Maybe Franky had seemed desperate, but it had worked.
And now she's smiling so much that she wishes she could tape her lips down.
It is her last evening at the shelter. She'll move out tomorrow morning, and the women who leave Wentworth rarely come back. Franky can't bear the thought of never seeing Bridget again and she considers tonight to be her last chance to convince the blonde to keep in touch.
She's more nervous than she's ever been, and she knows her odds aren't good, but she'll die trying. She's known many people in her life, and most of them only stayed with her to take advantage of her. Bridget isn't one of them.
During their first meeting, Franky had tried to shut Bridget out. She'd shrugged and lied and used sarcasm to keep Bridget out of her twisted world because she'd refused risking having her heart broken again. She had tried to spare Bridget's heart too, because everything she touched became rotten, and everyone she met ultimately ended up dead or heartbroken.
Bridget hadn't given up. She'd fought to bring Franky's fortress down everyday.
It had worked too well, and now, weeks later, Franky isn't ready to say goodbye to the one person whose sole presence can make her laugh until she has tears in her eyes.
"Gidget," Franky grins like she's just won the lottery. "I can't believe you finally decided to join us!"
Bridget narrows her eyes at the brunette.
"How many times do I need to remind you that my name is Bridget?"
"I prefer Gidget," Franky says innocently. "I'm glad you're here."
"I seem to recall you telling me that if I didn't come tonight, I'd have to live forever with the crushing guilt of not celebrating my favorite person's departure from the shelter. That I'd end up so lonely, even all the cats in the world wouldn't be able to comfort me. That I'd be wanted by the authorities for betrayal to my country."
"Nah, you must have misheard me," Franky smirks, remembering the way Bridget had rolled her eyes exuberantly during that conversation.
"Of course, I must have," Bridget answers. "I guess I can leave you with your friends then? I do have some work to finish."
"We were just about to leave, it's too late for you to ditch us" Franky insists, linking her arm with Bridget's and holding an umbrella above their heads. "You can't make these ones wait too long," she gestures at Boomer, Maxine and Bea staring at her in disbelief. "Are we ready?"
Franky doesn't wait for an answer and starts to lead the group away from the shelter. Her megawatts smile is attracting strange amused glances from strangers, but she couldn't care less, and Bridget sighs, relaxing and leaving her professional role behind.
It's been too long since she's felt as free as she does right now, with Franky by her side, rambling about the weather and its shitty timing for dropping cloud pee on their heads.
They've decided to go to a small restaurant a few streets away from the shelter. It's Bridget's recommendation, and Franky has too much fun telling the group that if the food sucks, it's Bridget's fault.
"It won't suck, as you say so nicely," Bridget shakes her head. "I've been there before."
"I'm a professional chef! I know good food when I see it," Franky winks.
"You're incorrigible."
"Maybe, but I don't hear you complaining about it."
Bridget remains quiet and Franky laughs heartfeltly.
As they arrive, Bea keeps getting distracted by her surroundings, glancing around at every corner, seeking someone she doesn't find. They sit at the table, and she still searches for a familiar blonde, ignoring the people she came in with. She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't hear her name until Boomer is yelling profanities in her ear.
"What?" Bea asks.
"You're rude," Boomer declares so loud that the whole place hears her.
"Excuse me?"
"Distracted?" Franky stares at her curiously, analyzing every inch of Bea's unspoken cues. "Boomer's been talking to you for five minutes."
Bea shrugs, shaking off the feeling of disappointment from her mind. She can't say that she's surprised that Allie hadn't shown up. It's late, it's raining, and Bea is with a group of people Allie doesn't know at all. Plus, Bea thinks as she winces internally, Allie is probably working and making sure she has enough food for tomorrow.
Bea feels her own stomach twist. She's asked Allie to come to a restaurant. Allie, whose wallet is probably emptier than Bea's bank account when it was controlled by Harry. How stupid of her.
"Just a nice place is all," she says, convincing no one.
"Yeah, right," Boomer laughs. "You look as lost as a five-years old that's been left alone in a grocery store."
"No, Booms," Maxine declares wisely with a small knowing smile. "She looks like she's been stood up."
Franky gasps and her mouth stays open as she looks at Bea. She's about to burst out laughing when Bea interrupts her.
"Don't be ridiculous," Bea takes a sip of her water.
"Nuh-uh, Red, I know that look," Franky claims with a wicked smile "Maxie's right. Who did you invite to my party? Without me even knowing, might I add… I knew you had it in you!"
"No one," Bea insists forcefully. "What did you want, Boomer?"
With a soft touch on her arm from Bridget, Franky lets it go, but her eyes promise Bea that this isn't over.
"Now I want to know who you're seeing behind our backs," Boomer protests, feeling slightly betrayed by the fact that Bea hasn't told them anything.
For Boomer, friendship means no secrets. It means unconditional love and shared lives. It's how she feels cared about with her friends, and she's come to consider Bea as an important asset of their group.
"Alright, Boomer, we'll interrogate her when Gidget isn't manipulating me with her puppy eyes," Franky says as she grabs the drinks menu. "First round is on me. Just make sure it isn't one of those most expensive drinks. I got a job, but it doesn't pay that much. Second's round on Red since she refuses to speak."
Bea scoffs, but doesn't argue. The less she says, the easier it will be.
They order and cheer to a new beginning, and Franky speaks highly of her a new job in a lawyers' office. It's a small job, but Franky's confidence to climb the ladder to success is unbreakable. She's dressed up in pride and Bridget's eyes shine when she looks at the impressive woman Franky has become.
"Who would have thought we'd be here tonight," Boomer says. "It's a bloody miracle."
"We weren't so bad!" Maxine laughs.
"You weren't there to see that, but Franky refused to get out of her room for three entire days when she first got to Wentworth. She would sneak out during the night to take food and then go back in her room. The staff had a meeting to determine whether she'd be allowed to stay. Luckily, I dragged her out of the room eventually," Bridget continues.
"I didn't know what to expect! And Bridget worked the nights, it was just easier for me" Franky tries to explain. "You weren't better, Booms! You came here a few days after I got in and you were so mad at everyone that no one would talk to you at first. You scared half the house away."
"How about that time you had another woman in your room?" Boomer fires back. "You scared half the house away with those moans!"
"Piss off, Booms!"
"Oh, we did have a long discussion about that, didn't we?" Bridget smirks.
Franky leans back on her chair and looks at the ceiling as she scoffs quietly.
"We did, and you told me I wasn't allowed to have anyone in my room except the staff from now on. That backfired, didn't it?"
"It certainly didn't," Bridget chuckles. "The only time I've ever met you in your room was to tell you that you had crossed a line by asking me out in front of my co-workers."
"Sounds just like the Franky I met a few weeks ago," Bea laughs.
They all finish half of their drinks in a few minutes, and soon enough, Maxine calls the waiter to order food to help the alcohol pass through their system. The table soon fills with appealing meals and delicious smells, and the group digs in, sharing their plates and trying a bit of everything. From pasta, to perfectly cooked meat and seafood, to a variety of vegetables and soups, the choices leave no one indifferent.
Just like Bridget predicted, the food is excellent.
The atmosphere is different than when they eat at Wentworth. Here, no one is looking at them. No other women or children are running around them or staring at them or trying to listen to what they're saying. No undesirable presence makes them filter their words. And even if Bridget is there with the other three women, they all consider her a friend more than a psychologist.
"The place won't be the same without you," Boomer tells Franky while they dig in the different plates. "You'll come visit, right?"
"Of course," Franky replies, shooting a pleading glance towards Bridget. "I'd miss you all too much if I didn't."
"I thought you couldn't come back once you left?" Bea asks.
"You can," Bridget explains, "but only with a good reason, for example, if you have a meeting or if you're invited. Franky can't show up unannounced."
"It's a sad, terrible world," Franky mocks. "Hold on, I'll have meetings with my friends if I visit."
"Franky," Bridget warns.
"Yeah, I know," Franky sighs as she finishes her first beer. "But it seems wrong if I just stop coming here. I've been here two months. I can't just go and be by myself when I've lived with so many people for two months. I'll go crazy and start talking to myself like a mad person."
"Phones still exist," Bridget points out gently. "And as far as I know, no one who's ever left the shelter went mad."
But Franky doesn't quite listen to her anymore. She's thinking of all the ways she isn't done at Wentworth. She's thinking of all the ways this place helps her. She's thinking of all the ways she needs this place, no matter how many rules there are and how many strangers she's forced to share a roof with. Some of those strangers, she realizes, have turned out to be her closest friends now.
Her only family.
She isn't ready to let go.
"And I need to know if Boomer will get a job soon. She's sent so many applications and I know she can do it. Any place would be lucky to have her," Franky rambles. "And Maxine's treatment, I can't miss anything about it. It's too important. What if something happens and I'm not there? And Red's mysterious lover! I have to be there to know who it is and all the details, I'm practically her mentor! And you, Gidge, I can't just… I can't just go."
"I don't have a secret lover and you're not my mentor," Bea shakes her head slowly. "And Boomer will keep talking to you, she'll probably be the one calling you all the time. "
Boomer nods eagerly, as if it was the only obvious thing on Earth.
"And Maxine, she'll be okay. Her treatment is going well, and you know it. She's never been better," Bea adds.
"I'll miss you too, love," Maxine smiles at Franky. "I won't let you leave without getting your number. Bea's right, I feel better."
"I'll get your number too," Boomer chimes in.
"I'm popular… Gidget's got competition," Franky wiggles her brows.
She still has her signature smirk tattooed on her face, but it's faltering. She tries to sound like she knows where's she going, like she has everything planned, but no matter how much help she's gotten at Wentworth, the fear of failing still controls her. The demons of her past constantly remind her of the many ways she's failed before, of the many ways she's still vulnerable to the rest of the world.
She may have a place to live, but it's somewhere she's never been before, and she feels as if she is moving to the other side of the world.
She may have a job, but it's new and fragile, and there is no guarantee that she'll keep it for long.
She may be surrounded by the family she's found, but deep inside, she sees herself standing alone in adversity.
She may have an extraordinary talent to hide her insecurities, but she's still dreading the moment the shelter's door closes behind her tomorrow.
Everything she has could be gone tomorrow.
Reality strikes her like lightning.
She's scared like she's never been before.
"Are you afraid because you're leaving us? Or is it because you think we might leave you?" Bridget asks with a thoughtful voice.
For a moment, it seems like Franky will answer seriously. Many thoughts and emotions battle for a place in her heart and she's having a hard time trying to make sense of it all. She opens her mouth and closes it. She takes a sip of drink and bites her inner cheek. She does it again, as the silence grows deeper between her and Bridget.
She keeps doing it until her glass is empty, but her throat still feels dry.
"Is it Bea's round yet?" Franky asks with enthusiasm, discarding Bridget's loaded question.
"Well, I'll definitely see you again," Bridget chuckles. "You still have some progress to make."
"You ask too many questions," Franky shrugs.
"I don't think that's the problem here."
It's a statement, not a question, and Franky shrugs again, raising her hand to call the waiter as Bridget's words wraps around her heart and squeeze it.
"Second round's on Red, feel free to order whatever expensive shit you find," Franky jokes.
"You do realize I don't have a job yet?"
"It's a matter of time," Maxine says. "You can always practice on my hair in the meantime. I know I could use a treatment. Can you grow hair back? I'll be very impressed if you can."
"Cancer joke," Franky cheers. "I thought it'd be too early."
"It is!" Boomer complains. "Cancer's not funny. Why do you even say that?"
She's angry and slams her glass on the table, and refuses to look at Maxine.
Maxine had arrived at Wentworth only a week after Boomer and she had known exactly the right words to say to calm Boomer's anger. When the news of cancer had reached Boomer's ears, she'd thought Maxine would die right on the spot.
She hadn't stopped worrying ever since.
"I'm fine," Maxine insists.
"It's not funny," Boomer mumbles under her breath. "You can't leave me."
"And I won't, love. But I have to laugh about it. It's the only I can survive." Maxine smiles sadly.
Bea shivers as the words remind her of something Allie would say.
The blonde never leaves her mind, even when it's late and the drinks are long forgotten, and Boomer's laughing again at something Maxine says to Franky.
When the group returns to the shelter a bit after midnight, their minds filled with yet another beautiful memory to share, Bea walks behind the other women. Her stomach is full and she's buzzing from the drinks she's had, but she feels happier knowing that she's not alone anymore.
She smiles at the way Franky walks a bit too close to Bridget and the blonde doesn't seem to move away. She hasn't known Franky for long, but she knows Bridget isn't just another one of the brunette's quick conquest.
She turns her sight to focus on the two other women. Her heart still aches at the sight of Maxine's figure walking slowly next to Boomer. The last round of chemo had been particularly hard on her, but Maxine never let her smile go away. Bea knows too well that Maxine is looking out for Boomer before herself.
Bea's thoughts are interrupted abruptly when a shadow emerges from between two buildings and grabs her hand. She jolts away, heart pounding in her chest and adrenaline flying through her veins, ready to make a run for her life when she recognizes the other girl.
"Bea."
Allie's voice is too quiet to attract the rest of the group's attention, but Bea's eyes immediately notice on Allie's full-blown pupils. She's about to stop and talk to Allie, but she worries her friends might notice she's gone. Instead, she keeps walking, but at a slower pace, and Allie takes a few steps with her.
A small part of Bea is still scorched alive by the fact that Allie hadn't joined her tonight.
The disappointment still digs a hole in her heart, and she can't ignore it, especially when she sees Allie's wobbling steps.
The woman is so high she can't even walk properly, and Bea isn't sure how to react.
If this is how caring feels like, Bea doesn't want to care.
But she does care.
"Bea! Please, I'm sorry I didn't come," Allie pleads.
"I don't see why you are," Bea shakes her head quickly, a distant smile on her face. "we didn't confirm anything, it was an unformal invitation."
Allie feels panic overwhelming her when she notices Bea's emotionless smile. Whatever they share, it's damaged now, and Allie wants to fix this.
She needs to fix this.
"I can talk to you later? At the usual time? I wouldn't want to interrupt… your work?" Bea hates how Allie's job and Allie's addiction bother her.
She wishes she could be as open-minded as she wants to be, but seeing Allie this way, lips swollen, and body trapped under the influence of drugs, hurts her. She still doesn't fully understand why Allie would do that to herself, and she doesn't think she ever will.
She can't understand why Allie doesn't seem to try harder, and at the same time, she thinks the blonde is trying too hard for her own good. She thinks Allie's trying so hard that she might break someday.
Sooner than later.
A feeling of hopelessness hits her like an earthquake. She wishes she could do something, anything, to help Allie escape a life in the streets, but nothing comes to her mind. Being here for Allie doesn't seem enough and asking for help to someone else sounds like going against Allie's will.
But seeing Allie like that is killing her.
Talking every night doesn't shelter Bea from being too affected by Allie's life. It only pulls her in more, until Allie is all she can think about, until Allie occupies her mind even when she sleeps.
"I don't have another client tonight," Allie smiles hesitantly, noticing the way Bea reacts. "I wasn't even supposed to have one."
"What are you doing here?" Bea sighs loudly, signaling her annoyance. "I think you made it clear that you had other priorities."
She's angry.
She becomes angrier when she realizes that she isn't even sure why Allie's absence affects her so much.
A part of her feels like she shouldn't have let her guard down.
Disappointment isn't new to Bea, but it still hurts, especially when she doesn't see it coming.
"I was hoping you'd come with me?"
Bea stops walking and turns to face Allie, her eyes boring into Allie's. She looks for a hint of the blonde's intention. She searches for a piece of a riddle she's never seen.
"Why?"
She seeks an answer, any answer, that might tell her that Allie can be trusted if Bea lets her in.
She finds a longing melancholy that tugs painfully at her chest.
"I want to show you my world," Allie admits.
Bea frowns at the sudden confession.
"Have I done something?"
"No!" Allie quickly reassures Bea. "It's just, my life, it's not a nice one. It's not a celebration at a restaurant when something good happen. It's quite the opposite."
It's addictive drugs.
It's emotionless sex.
It's fear when she thinks of the way Bea makes her feel.
It's joy when she thinks of the way Bea makes her feel.
It's chaos.
It's not being able to get her shit together even though there's nothing she wants more. It's not being able to smile when Bea isn't around. It's gambling with her life every day when she wakes up. It's playing Russian roulette with the food she finds in garbage cans. It's thinking she's going to have enough courage to change, but realizing she's fooling yourself once again.
It's looking at Bea through a restaurant's window and seeing her have the time of her life, and realizing Bea doesn't need her the way Allie does.
Because Bea is fine without her. She really is. She might even be better off without her.
"I wanted to go with you, I really did. And to meet everyone," Allie licks her lips. "I got there, and I couldn't walk in. I wasn't clean. I wasn't fully sober. I didn't want that to be the first impression of me."
Bea nods.
"I know I'm high. I know I'm not looking so great either. I know I'm showing up here with nothing and I'm asking for a lot, but would you follow me? It's late, but it's not far from here and it won't take long. You can even ask of your friends to come with you if you don't trust me."
There's something about the way Allie is asking that makes Bea wants to say yes.
Maybe it's the way her eyes are pleading desperately for a second chance even though she's never needed a second one to begin with.
Maybe it's the tone of her voice, strong and vulnerable, and brutally raw, reaching directly Bea's soul.
Maybe it's the words Allie pronounces, words that illustrate how aware she is of her flaws, but how unaware she is of her strengths.
"I'm not like him." Allie finishes. "I know I messed up, but I'm not like him and I would never do anything that puts you in danger."
Bea looks up and ahead, vague memories of Harry's text message in her mind.
She sees Franky staring at them across the distance and knows that if she calls for help, Franky would sprint to her side in a heartbeat. Franky would chase Allie away if needed. She also knows that if she leaves with Allie, Franky wouldn't worry, but she'd be waiting in Bea's room until she came back safely.
Bea wonders if this is what friendship is like.
"Lead the way," she decides.
Next week is Christmas so I might not post a chapter because I'll be busy with life, but just know that chapter 5 is written and I only need to edit/proofread it, so I will definitely update within 2 weeks!