Thank you for your patience.
Chapter's title comes from "Back on the map" by Kacey Musgraves.
I stole yet another scene from the TV Show...
Chapter 9 : S.O.S. it's out of hand
The first day they spend without each other is torture.
Despite Allie being constantly on her mind, Bea focuses her energy on spending as much time with Debbie as she can. They go out and explore places from their past or find new ones to make their own. They laugh, they cry, and they love each other like they've never left each other, and Bea almost believes that her bruised heart is healing.
It doesn't last long, and before she even realizes what she's doing, Bea starts to spy on her daughter.
She listens to her daughter's conversations when she's on the phone with Brayden. She doesn't notice anything strange, but the doubts never leave. She smiles when Debbie leaves Wentworth and claims to visit her friends again, but a tiny part of her brain doesn't believe her anymore. When Debbie comes back, it's the middle of the night, and Bea hides her tears when she smells the familiar scent of Harry's favorite beer lingering on her daughter's clothes.
She asks Debbie about it, but her daughter shrugs and tells her she's paranoid.
She swallows her insecurities and insists, even raising her voice, but Debbie doesn't say a word.
She wonders what Allie would think of this.
The second day they spend without each other never ends.
Allie waits all day at their meeting location. She waits until her eyes can't stay open anymore, and still, she forces herself to stay awake, just in case her favorite person shows up. Bea never comes, and Allie befriends loneliness once again. She refuses to give up and she sleeps on the bench for the night. No one wakes her up except the sun, the brilliant sun that never shines bright enough without Bea by her side. She waits until she has no energy left, until her stomach shrinks under the absence of food and until her lips crack and bleed from dehydration.
She walks back to her small room in a shelter that doesn't feel as welcoming as it used to.
She plans her visit with Kaz with a sour taste in her mouth. She wonders if her mentor will also reject her. She wonders if there's any part left in her that can be broken, or if they are all bleeding heavily already. She looks and acts like she doesn't belong with the livings, until she finally snaps back to life when someone in the streets asks if she has drugs with her.
She doesn't want to be associated with the toxic substances anymore, and she finds herself planning her meeting with Kaz differently. She has many questions to ask, and many answers to beg for.
There's a woman in her heart, and Allie refuses to give up on her.
She finds out where Harry lives, and thinks of every way he's ruined Bea's life.
She wonders if the Red Right Hand could strike again.
The third day they spend without each other is a glimpse into their future.
Bea meets with Liz and Vera, who want to make sure that she isn't insane for wanting to meet Harry.
Allie celebrates the fact that she's been out of the streets for a few days now, and that she has no intention of ever going back.
They both keep moving forward.
Bea realizes that she misses Allie.
Allie wonders when she'll ever stop missing Bea.
They both secretly hope that this is the last day they'll spend apart.
There's something about Franky that brings a smile to Bea's face whenever they meet. Whether it is the perpetual friendly mockery that goes on between them, or the sometimes too heavy moments they share when they think of their newfound family, they always end up having a good discussion together. It seems crazy for Bea to think that, had she met Franky anywhere else, she might have just passed her by without a second glance.
Visiting Franky's new apartment had seemed like a good idea to Bea. It had sounded like an opportunity to catch up, to laugh at Franky's terrible choices of furniture and to finally test Franky's culinary talents. It had been a chance to distract her mind from the fact that she still had no idea what to do about Debbie.
She'd arrived without any expectations, but her mind had gone all kinds of places when she'd walked in on Franky and a very familiar psychologist making out in the middle of the living room.
In her defense, Franky had told her to just walk in as soon as she'd be there.
Bea hadn't said anything, and Bridget had kept her thoughts to herself, but they'd been unable to look each other in the eyes as Franky had quickly kicked the latest out the door.
Bea had thought that this would be the only embarrassing event of the evening, the only moment during which she'd regret coming here.
Until Franky had read her mind and started drilling her about why she looked like death had run her over.
"I'm not giving you any food until you tell me what's going on," Franky declares, leaving the pots on the stove and joining Bea on the couch.
It smells like the best damn food she could be having, and Bea's stomach growls rebelliously while its owner remains silent. Bea curses the fact that she hasn't had food before coming here.
"Come on, you already saw me and Gidge. You have shit on me, I won't go tell everyone what's keeping you up at night… or who."
"You're horrible," Bea laughs coldly. "What the fuck was that with Bridget?"
"Just don't tell anyone yet? Please?" Franky asks with a serious face. "I'm not playing her, and I don't want to ruin it."
"I know that, but when? How? I thought you couldn't see her unless you had a meeting."
Bea is so confused that she's losing track of her thoughts.
"I don't know, it just happened and then… it happened again! It's Bridget. It's new and exciting, and really, Red, you could at least pretend to be a bit happier for me!" Franky adds with a victorious smile.
It is clear that Franky presents herself like the proudest person on this planet, but all Bea sees is a whipped little shit she calls her best friend.
Bea exhales loudly. How in the world is she ever supposed to have a meeting with Bridget again now that she has this image sealed in her mind?
"Now, come on, tell me! I will eat in front of you and feel no shame," Franky continues convincingly. "I'll even wave my fork in front of your sad little eyes, and pretend to give you some, and then take it away. I might even eat all of it and leave you nothing! You know what I'm capable of."
Bea rolls her eyes even though she has no doubt that Franky will do as she says.
"Is it about Maxine?" Franky asks softly. "It sucks, doesn't it?"
Bea lowers her sight to the floor.
It really does.
"She came over and told me this morning," Franky says with a small, broken voice that doesn't resembles her. "I never thought it would come down to this. She was fine. I swear she was."
"I know," Bea nods. "I didn't expect it either."
"I can't lose her."
"She'll fight. You know her," Bea smiles gently. "You know she won't leave you so easily."
It might be a joke, but it reassures Franky regardless.
"No one leaves me that easily," Franky smirks, her invincible persona back in place where it belongs. "And no one leaves my questions unanswered, so tell me, Red, what's going on?"
"You remember Allie?" She figures she might as well start talking or Franky will lock her in and torture her for answers.
It's a stupid question. Franky will never forget Allie. Franky has Allie categorized as the woman whose sole presence turns Bea into a lovesick fool.
"She says Debbie's using," Bea says, feeling her chest tightens at the mere idea. A ridiculous, lame idea that was pronounced a few days ago by the most honest voice. "She says she can recognize the signs."
"Really?" Franky asks, concern floating in her dark eyes. "Do you reckon she's right?"
"No!" Bea answers, mildly offended that Franky entertains the idea. "Of course, she isn't. Debbie doesn't take gear. She's never been interested in that, but Allie is convinced that she's right. She says it starts with the small doses that no one notices."
It makes sense. No one simply falls into addiction without warning. No one just slips and becomes incapable of living without drugs just after one small hit.
"So you think she's lying?" Franky asks again, choosing her words carefully so she doesn't accidently pick a side. The last thing she needs is for Bea to go off on her.
A few hours ago, Bea would have screamed 'yes', loud and clear, but now, she's unable to decide.
She hadn't seen anything when she'd spied on her daughter. No matter how much time she'd spent staring at her or listening to her words, she just hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Except for the smell. The damn smell of Harry's beer that Bea can't forget about.
"It just makes no sense. Why would Debbie do that? She has goals. She's going to a great school. She has friends. She even has a boyfriend. Her first boyfriend," Bea smiles weakly, eyes lost in nostalgia. "She's growing up into this beautiful, strong woman. Why would she ruin it?"
As soon as the question leaves her lips, Bea wishes she could take it back.
"Maybe for her, it's not ruining her," Franky puts Bea's thoughts into words. "Maybe she thinks it's good for her. Hell, maybe it helps her. No offense, but your daughter hasn't had the easiest time recently, don't you think?"
It takes Franky a lot of courage to say the last statement, and Bea is almost grateful for it. Sometimes she forgets that Debbie has suffered too. Sometimes she forgets that Debbie has cried herself to sleep and has feared for her life too. Sometimes she forgets that Debbie might have searched for help too.
Whatever type of help she could find oversea, where Bea could not follow her, and where Bea's protective eyes weren't on her for the first time in her life.
An escape.
"Debbie knows it isn't the right solution," Bea says shockingly, unsure whether she believes in her words or not. "She should know."
"Everyone knows," Franky whispers softly.
Everyone knows, until they forget.
It might start at a fun party or with a need to avoid reality, or simply curiosity. It might start for no reason at all, or be the only choice one feels they have. It might be a small dose, an unknown pill or a reckless smoke at the end of the night. It might be a needle with hidden poison inside. It might be temporary, but it can become forever.
"It sounds to me like Allie's just looking out for Deb," Franky speaks. "She's worried. It wasn't an attack on you."
Guilt washes over Bea. Franky's right. It was never an attack on her, but she'd snapped back, insinuating that Allie was the worse case scenario and that she was hopeless even in recovery.
She'd accused her of lying and not taking their relationship seriously.
She'd accused her of not caring.
Allie has never stopped caring, no matter how many times Bea had pushed her away, sometimes cruelly and without reason.
"She says I need to protect Debbie. She said it like I've never protected her before," Bea rages quietly. "She said it like I'm a bad mother!"
Sure, Allie had never said the specific words, but Bea's talent for overthinking fills the holes with the worst version of the truth. Sure, she trusts Allie to be fair with her, but she can't get over those words.
"Do you really think Harry is such a good father that he wouldn't hit his own daughter?" Bea implodes, shaking and clenching her fists until her knuckles turn white. "No! I protected her. I told him to hit me as many times as he wanted, as long as he left her alone. I told him I would take it. I told him that if Debbie ever did anything to annoy him, he could find me and do whatever he wanted with me. And he did. He did find me. And I protected her."
She isn't sure who she is trying to convince anymore, Franky, Allie or herself.
"I did everything I could to protect her. I still do," she spits out, fighting to believe in her own statement, but it's getting harder every time she repeats it.
She still feels like she could have been a better role model, and maybe that's why Allie's words hurt so much, because she'll never feel like she truly protected her daughter all those years. She could have run away years ago, when she was pregnant. Instead, she'd chose to believe a monster over and over until she'd found herself being handcuffed to her miserable life.
A part of her feels like she was never a good mother for Debbie, and she never will be.
Even though she's technically free now, she feels like she still has handcuffs on, and the key is still missing in a distant dimension.
She feels like she doesn't deserve Franky, or Maxine, or Boomer, or even Allie.
She'd failed Debbie in the past, and if Allie's gruesome version of events is true, she's still failing her today.
She can't protect Maxine.
She can't help Boomer.
And she let Allie down just a few days ago.
It's a matter of time before she ends up alone.
"I don't know Allie much, but I doubt that she was telling you to be a better mother," Franky tries to reassure Bea. "Did you even ask her to clarify? Does she even know everything you just told me?"
Bea remains quiet, resentment singing the opera in her head. The thoughts won't leave her alone.
She wants to turn off her brain and never turn it on again. Maybe then, she'll finally see the world clearly. Maybe then, she'll finally hear Allie's words for what they were, and not what she thought they were.
"How do you feel about Allie?"
The question surprises Bea more than she lets it on.
"What do you mean?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at Franky.
"Oh, don't play dumb!" Franky responds with an exasperated voice. "How do you feel when she's with you? How do you feel when she's talking to you? Or when she's staring at you like you're sex on a stick, whatever works for you!"
Bea rolls her eyes so hard that she nearly loses them to the back of her skull.
"I feel…"
Like I have my confidence back.
Like I have enough energy to fight any obstacle that comes my way.
Like I have the passion I need to fully enjoy this life.
Like I am forever supported.
Like I am unconditionally loved.
It's all she's ever wanted. It's what she'd told Bridget she needed, weeks ago, when she'd met her the very first time.
Allie has given it all to her.
"I just didn't expect her to break my heart," Bea admits as the feeling of betrayal cuts through her once more. She can feel herself bleed out by the second.
She thinks this agonizing feeling will never go away and that every time she'll see Allie from now on, she'll fear the words coming out of the blonde's mouth.
She's scared that she'll never be able to face Allie without remembering this painful conversation.
She thinks she'll never be able to forgive Allie, or to ask for forgiveness herself.
She thinks she might never see her again. After all, it's been three days since she last saw the woman who stole her heart.
She misses her terribly. Of course, she does. She misses her so much that she doesn't know how the fuck she's still alive right now.
She misses her so much that she could steal a plane and write those words in the sky for the whole city to see, and any notion of self-control could go screw itself. She could finally accept that every minute she spends away from Allie is wasted time that she'll never truly enjoy. She could proclaim that obvious fact to the universe.
She thinks she might have ruined the very best thing that has ever happened to her.
"You want to know what I think, Red?" Franky interrupts Bea's twirling thoughts. "You're right. You got your heart broken real good for the first time."
Bea sinks into the couch.
"But not by Allie," Franky finishes, holding Bea's eyes with her own.
The prison stands tall before her with its impressive brick walls and its intimidating barbed wires. It's a building made to scare people, to prevent them from committing crimes unless they want to be stripped of their rights and freedom. It's a place where the most terrible people of the planet supposedly are, even though some evils still roam freely, untouched by the laws they've created themselves. It's where justice is served, sometimes fairly, sometimes not.
There are cameras following her every move when she enters the prison to announce herself, just in time for visiting hours. She puts on a brave face and she walks through the metal detectors. She has nothing dangerous on her, but she's still scared that they might stop her for no particular reason and keep her locked inside these walls.
She waits anxiously in the visitors' room. It's a small room with enough doors and large windows for her not to feel claustrophobic. However, the more she looks at the guards standing around her, the more convinced she becomes that they are going to fire at her at any moment.
What if one of the inmates attack her suddenly? Will she be able to run fast enough? Will the guards be able to save her on time?
She shakes her head. She has too many misconceptions about prisons and prisoners dancing in her head. She keeps forgetting that this could have been her home. This could have been her home for many years.
She sees a flash of dark blonde hair to her left and she turns her head just in time for her eyes to find Kaz's. Kaz stares directly into her soul, and Allie suddenly feels small, like she shouldn't have come here.
She hasn't been here in so long. Kaz probably doesn't want anything to do with her.
But a single thought forces her to stay. Bea.
"Kaz," Allie says hesitantly. "You look good."
"Don't be ridiculous, I look like shit," Kaz says with a raspy, tired voice. "I was surprised to hear you wanted to see me."
Kaz sits in front of her old friend, her eyes hard and emotionless as she scans the younger blonde for a few seconds. Prison has changed her, and she half-expects Allie to shiv her in the visitors' room, even though Allie has no reason to do so. It wouldn't be the first time a friend tried to end her. Being top dog is harder than anything she's ever done before, and she can't let her guard down.
"How's prison treating you?" Allie asks shyly. She wishes she could embrace Kaz and let her know that she cares, but something tells her it isn't the wisest choice here. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."
"Prison is prison," Kaz replies detachedly. "It isn't anything worse than what we had with the Red Right Hand. Some assholes try to kill me now and then, and the guards are shittier than shit, but at least I'm top dog. It means I control everything."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"I think we both know that you don't need to worry about me," Kaz replies.
She is pleased when she notices how clean Allie is. There's no dirt in her hair, no bags under her eyes, and no overly dilated pupils due to the drugs in her system. There's no trace of white powder on her clothes and they even seem to have been ironed recently. There's no bruises on her arms and no hickeys in her neck. Allie's hands rest on the table and Kaz nods to herself when she sees there's no blood on them, no scars or signs of a recent fight with undesirable people.
"How have you been, Allie?" Kaz asks with real worry in her tone. It doesn't matter how long it's been, Kaz will never forget the state in which she'd found Allie, years ago. She still worries about Allie's well-being, even behind bars. "You look good, and that's true."
Allie thinks about the last three days.
She thinks about the very first day, when she'd thought she was going to relapse and go to the streets for a sweet release. The moment she'd taken a step outside, heading to the districts ruled by Marie Winter and her slaves. The moment she'd yelled mentally at herself for wanting to get gear when she was finally out of the woods. And the moment she'd resisted proudly, deciding to stay inside instead of going out in the darkest night.
She thinks about the excruciating feeling of having an incomplete heart in her chest. It feels like the slowest and most painful way to die. Waiting relentlessly for Bea to show up had only added more nails to her coffin.
"I'm clean again." Allie doesn't need to look at Kaz to know what question she'll be asked next. "I relapsed. That's why I didn't show up. I just couldn't. But I'm clean now, really clean."
"Like the way you were before?" Kaz asks sadly. She doesn't want to hope that Allie will start visiting her again, only to have that hope crushed. There's no denying that she cares about Allie, but there'll always be many versions of Allie.
"Cleaner than ever before," Allie declares proudly. She'll never lose against herself again. "This is real, Kaz. I'm never using again."
Kaz thinks that she needs to really see it to believe it, but she doesn't mention it. She doesn't want to ruin Allie's optimism, but she remembers the countless times that the same promises were made, only to be broken a short time after.
"What's different?" she asks.
"Bea Smith," Allie replies with a ridiculously large smile on her face.
She can't even hide her feelings anymore, and Kaz frowns in confusion.
"It's this woman I met," Allie explains. "She changed my life."
"Allie…"
Kaz's warning remains unspoken, but Allie hears it regardless. They've known each other long enough that they don't always need words to express themselves.
"She isn't a drug dealer, she isn't a prostitute, she isn't working at the shelter where I live, and she isn't married. I mean, technically she is, but it's not relevant in this situation, trust me. I've gone through all of it in my head, Kaz, whatever you want me to be careful about. She's good for me."
"You remember what happened the last time you thought someone was good for you?" Kaz says in a hushed tone. "You almost died. Remember her, Marie? She fucking ruined your life. I'm not here to get you out of a shitty situation again, in case you haven't noticed."
"And I'm not that person anymore," Allie answers with a strong voice. "I'm not, I swear. You think prison changes you, you're probably right. But so do years in the streets. When you suddenly meet someone who looks at you like you have a place in this world, you change. I changed when I met you. This is just… different."
"I don't want to see you inside with me, alright? I didn't save your ass for you to ruin it," Kaz gazes at Allie suspiciously.
"You'll never see me inside," Allie smirks. "I'm a new person! I left the alley. I left the streets… I'm doing this, Kaz, you gotta believe me."
Kaz chuckles at the way Allie positively glows. Allie is the daughter she never had, and she feels proud no matter what happens, but this time, it's more.
She thinks she could cry from relief. When she'd first arrived in jail, she'd spent weeks wondering where Allie was, hoping that her corpse wouldn't be found in a hole somewhere on the side of a road. She'd worried that she'd made the wrong choice to take the fall for everyone when it would have been so much easier to look after Allie if they'd both ended up in jail.
But she never could have lived with herself if she'd stolen Allie's life.
The clock is ticking down, and she knows they don't have much time left to speak.
"Have you seen the others?" she asks. "My girls, are they good?"
"Yeah, they are," Allie replies. She tells Kaz about everything she knows regarding what's left of the Red Right Hand.
The discussion focuses on the organization and its members. Both women laugh as they recall stupid things they did in the past, and cry as they share regrets and stories of second chances.
Allie thinks of her idea of going to pay a visit to Harry.
It sounds like her best and worst idea of all time.
"They've stopped? Beating up people? I want them to stay out of trouble when I'm not there, you make sure of that," Kaz insists.
"Yeah, they're out of trouble," Allie replies calmly, hiding her twisted ideas far from Kaz's scrutinizing stare.
"You're lying to me," Kaz accuses. "Don't lie to me, Allie."
"I'm not. I just haven't seen them in a while," Allie says.
"Then why do you have that look in your face? The one that tells me you're out for blood? Are you planning something?"
It's easy for them to talk as if they hadn't just spent months part. They'll always be family, no matter what, and Allie doesn't want to be at war with her family.
The less Kaz knows, the better.
"I'm not!"
Allie doesn't want to be out for blood. She doesn't want to end up in prison. She doesn't want to keep fighting for her life.
She wants a respectful life that she's proud of. For Bea. For Kaz. For herself.
She wants that life, after Harry has been taken care of.
"Tell me," Kaz asks with a calm voice made of steel. "Tell me now."
Karen Proctor didn't become the leader of the Red Right Hand by sitting and waiting for things to happen. She stole the leader's position by punching another bitch in the face, and she took control of everything. She was in charge.
She still has this ability to force the truth out of anyone's mouth.
"Bea's ex… isn't a good man."
Kaz sighs loudly and can't believe she didn't see this coming.
"This is something I want you to be careful about!" she scolds, mirroring Allie's previous words. "You're going for the girl who has a violent ex-husband? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"
"He doesn't know about me!" Allie protests loudly.
"He will for sure, if you go after him." Kaz warns. "Stay away from him. Let this Bea take care of it her way. This isn't your fight and you know it."
"You fought for me," Allie argues, aiming for Kaz's soft spot. "You didn't let me do this on my own."
"And look where I ended up," Kaz replies with a sad smile. "I fought for you and I wanted to, but now I'm stuck in here for many years. Don't tell me this is what you want."
Right now, all Allie wants is to protect Bea and Debbie.
"He's bad, Kaz. He won't leave her alone. I won't go after him now, I just- I want to do something."
She wants to scream that this is exactly why the Red Right Hand was created, but she doesn't. She doesn't want to attract attention to their table, especially when she knows Kaz's top dog. She can't risk putting her friend in trouble.
"I don't care what he does or doesn't do," Kaz insists. "I don't want to see you on trial for assault or anything else, do you understand me?"
Allie weights the advantages and disadvantages to keep arguing and comes to the frustrating conclusion that nothing will change Kaz's mind as long as she is in prison.
"Fine," Allie lies like she was born to say this. Screw this. She'll do it her own way. "There's something else. I was wondering if you still had that apartment we used as the Red Right Hand's headquarters?"
Kaz frowns. She wonders if she should insist because Allie doesn't look like she's going to let it go anytime soon. She decides not to, because time is flying away from them.
"It's been years, Bubba. I don't own it anymore. Money is power, even in here."
"Worth a try," Allie shrugs. "I've been looking for a place to stay but I'll keep searching."
"I'll ask around, I promise," Kaz offers.
"No worries," Allie looks around her. She plays with her hands the way she does when she's nervous and Kaz picks up on it.
"What is it?" Kaz warily asks. She almost lets her guard back up, but she stops herself just in time. It's Allie. Allie is like her daughter, her closest friend, even today. She wouldn't suddenly drop a bomb on her.
"I know you have many contacts in the city," Allie hesitantly pronounces.
She feels bad asking more from Kaz, considering everything Kaz has done for her: getting her out of the streets more times than she can count and keeping her out of jail. It feels like she's asking for too much and she's scared that she might be putting their relationship in jeopardy with all her requests.
But still, she needs to ask, for Bea. It's the least she can do.
"Do you know any hair salons?"
The question spins the conversation around, directing it to a subject Kaz would have never guessed in a hundred years.
"Why do you ask?"
"It's for Bea. She's been looking for a job, but there's nothing. I want to help her."
"Why isn't this Bea doing her own research? Is she using you? You can tell me," Kaz repeats her warnings again, her protective side never too far from the surface. "I've got… contacts."
The threat is obvious, and Allie nearly gets up and leaves.
"No, she isn't using me! If anything, I used her," she sighs. "She's going through a rough patch. I just want to do something for her, anything at all. I have to ask. It's okay if you don't."
Kaz thinks about her answer. She studies Allie's behavior, unsure whether to believe her or not, but she finds no reason to doubt her.
"Go to this place," Kaz gives an address for Allie to memorize. "Ask for Doreen. Tell her Kaz wants that favor she owes me."
"Who's Doreen? What favor, what did you do?" Allie frowns. She doesn't want to be dragged down an unknown path, and she doesn't recognize the name. Whoever it is, it isn't someone from the Red Right Hand.
"I met her in here. She was busted for a minor offense, she got parole a few weeks back. I helped her a few times against some women. I heard she's opened a small business. Trust me or don't, but do it for that crush of yours."
Allie scoffs and downplays it at the mention of a crush, but her eyes shine with gratitude. After everything that has happened, Kaz still looks after her, and this feels better than any drugs she could have taken in the last few days.
"Thanks! A lot. You're the best."
"You're just saying that because I saved your girlfriend's ass, right?" Kaz teases.
"You haven't changed a bit, you know?" Allie grins widely. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Your wife then. How come I wasn't invited to the wedding?"
"Piss off, Kaz. There's no wedding."
"There will be," Kaz gives her a pointed look.
Allie rolls her eyes. Fine, maybe she has thought about it. Maybe it has crossed her mind once. Or twice. Or a hundred times.
Maybe.
"You're not invited," she mutters grumpily. "You just focus on taking care of yourself, alright?"
"I love you too, Allie," Kaz replies gently.
Allie hums like it's no big deal, but Kaz's words squeeze her heart tightly.
"I love you," Allie answers.
She'll never neglect Kaz again, she thinks. She'll never let one of her favorite people rot in prison when she can visit her and bring her a bit of joy now and then. She'll never let herself forget about Kaz again.
She cares about her too much for that.
"I'll be back, Kaz. I mean it," Allie promises, her smile making Kaz believe every word.
Kaz stares as her friend leaves the visitors' room.
She knows Allie will be alright.
"Thank for seeing me."
After leaving Kaz, Allie had run to the address and found Doreen without wasting any more time. She'd met a joyful, beautiful woman with the most adorable little boy in her arms. Joshua had tried to distract her with his insane cuteness the entire time she'd spoken with Doreen, but Allie had one goal in mind. At the mention of Kaz, Doreen had immediately accepted Allie's request and insisted that she was more than happy to help.
"Kaz saved my life a couple of time," Doreen remembers. "Of course, I'll help you. Anything you want."
"It's not for me. It's for someone I care about," Allie replies, trying to explain the situation without revealing too much of Bea's life.
After promising Doreen that she'd be back in the next hours, she'd sprinted to Wentworth's door and practically begged Liz to ask for Bea.
"Give me a minute," Liz says gently, closing the door.
Allie thinks that she has spent a tremendous amount waiting after Bea in the past days.
It's the longest minute of her life and she internally screams when she hears the familiar sound of the door being unlocked.
"Bea," Allie gasps, her heart being shocked back to life.
Bea is here, alive and safe, and she's just as beautiful as Allie knows her to be. She walks hesitantly towards Allie, unsure what is expected of her. She stands before the blonde, eyes searching for a hint of what is about to happen, but she finds none. She inhales fresh, breathable air for what feels like the first time in three days, and her aching lungs are cured from the stiffening pain within seconds.
She faces Allie in silence.
"I'm happy to see you," Allie whispers. "Thank you for accepting."
She fights the urge to pull the other woman in a hug.
"I should be the one thanking you," Bea lets out slowly. "I'm sorry. I overreacted."
She'd wanted to contact Allie before, but she'd thought Allie would never want to see her again. The thought that Allie might still want her, might still care for her, had never crossed her mind until her recent conversation with Franky.
Harry would have slapped her and dragged her to the floor and trapped her in her room for hours.
Allie had waited patiently instead, but Bea would never know.
There are so many things Bea wants to tell Allie.
"Wait, not here," Allie smiles like the last days never existed.
And really, they never existed. Allie doesn't think those days are important at all. She doesn't want to remember the days she spent without Bea because they don't matter. She doesn't want to be angry when she can feel so many more emotions that won't lead her toward the path of self-destruction.
She doesn't want to be angry when she can focus on the happiness she feels from seeing Bea again.
"Trust me?" she asks.
She takes Bea's hand, waits a second for Bea to resist, and when she feels her palm being held strongly, she leads Bea in the city once again.
This time, there's no smoke, no drugs and no empty needles on the floor. There's no prostitutes or drugs dealers, no ghosts from the past to ruin their adventure. There's no night, there's only the bright sun above their head and the bluest sky they could ever dream of. They arrive in front of a place that Bea immediately recognizes as a hair salon.
Allie doesn't give Bea a chance to process the information and walks them both in, eyes zeroing on Doreen.
"Doreen! This is Bea!"
Bea freezes, unable to comprehend what the hell is going on as a tall indigenous woman quickly pulls her in a hug. She awkwardly lets herself be embraced. Allie laughs, and Bea feels her anxiety slowly melt away.
"Nice to meet you, Bea," Doreen says warmly, offering her a giant smile. "I'm Doreen. I heard that you'll be joining us here?"
"I- I don't understand," Bea replies, glancing from Allie to Doreen, to the room around her, full of chairs and mirrors, and scissors and accessories. It vaguely reminds her of a glorious past she was forced to give up years ago.
"Allie told me you are looking for a job and that you are a hairdresser? This is my salon."
"I-I am looking for a job," Bea stutters.
She's been looking for a job for weeks now.
"And I happen to be looking for extra staff since the place's been getting more popular. The job is yours if you want it. And if you can prove to me that you're as good as your friend says you are," Doreen jokes. "We're a team of three people and we're open from Monday to Friday."
"Are you serious?" Bea asks, unable to believe that something so perfect would fall on her lap.
"Absolutely," Doreen answers. "I've heard only good things about you so far. Call me crazy, but I like to believe in people, even if I don't know them that well yet. You'll start by helping us when it's busy, but once you get your name out, you'll have your own chair and regulars."
"I'm ready to volunteer if you need practice," Allie winks. "I'm still waiting on that cut and color you promised me."
Bea's eyes widen. This can't really be true. Surely, there's something she must do in exchange.
Good things don't just happen like that.
"Great, I'll be waiting for you in two days? I'll have everything ready and you can start," Doreen replies excitedly.
Everything is happening so fast that it makes Bea's head spin. She looks around once again, unable to believe that this isn't some joke from a terrible reality tv show. All she sees in return are Doreen and Allie having the friendliest of conversation and making fun of her confused look.
Scratch that.
All she sees is Allie, this breathtaking woman who has found her a job, a real job that pays real money that will help her pay for a real apartment of her own. Allie, who has just performed a miracle that will make everything better and easier from now on. Allie, who Bea thinks she can trust with her own life, and she can't believe she's ever doubted this woman.
Allie, whose eyes are back on hers with so much love and admiration that it steals her breath away.
She doesn't know how and why, and whether this is going to work as a long-term contract or just long enough for her to find her own place, but she couldn't care less. The details don't matter anymore. She'll take what she can get, and right now, she feels like whatever gets thrown in her way can be dusted away with a movement of her hand.
She has a job.
"Thank you," she says sincerely at Doreen when she leaves the salon. "This means much more than you can imagine."
Doreen simply smiles in return, like she can see through Bea's words and beyond.
"Oh here, take this key, sometimes this damn door locks by itself. I trust you won't steal anything in the meantime? I wasn't serious when I asked you for proof. If the clients don't come back to you, that'll be your problem, not mine, alright? I'll see you soon."
The walk back to Wentworth is quiet, as if both women were afraid to burst this bubble of happiness they have trapped themselves in. It seems to take them longer to walk back, but they don't mind. They even slow down when the streets get a little too familiar, and the massive shadow of Wentworth distantly appears before them.
The memory of their last encounter is hanging over them, and Bea wants nothing more than to burn it to ashes.
Bea keeps her eyes on Allie for as long as she can without walking straight into a tree or any obstacle that blocks the road.
Allie pretends that she doesn't notice.
"Why did you do that?" Bea breaks the silence when they're meters away from their destination.
"Why not?" Allie shrugs. "It's the least I can do after the crap I've put you through."
"I mean, why now? After what I said to you."
"I said things too," Allie replies, turning to face Bea and effectively making them stop on the sidewalk. "Things that weren't fun to hear. Things that hurt. Maybe I came in too strong, but I know you didn't want to hurt me, and that's enough for me."
Is it enough for you remains quiet, but Bea feels it fly around her head.
The answer is clear, and it's the only one that makes sense in Bea's head. She doesn't want to spend another day without Allie. Time is too precious to be wasted this way.
"I'm sorry," Bea repeats.
Fuck, she's so sorry. She'd been so busy protecting her daughter all those years that she had never stopped to think that Debbie was also human, and therefore, could make mistakes.
Debbie isn't perfect and realizing that had broken Bea's heart.
And none of this is Allie's fault.
"I'm really sorry," she repeats, holding Allie's blue eyes into her own.
"What for?" Allie winks slyly. "I have no clue what you're talking about."
Bea scoffs. Surely, Allie knows, but she's pretending not to.
She lets it go too.
Maybe they're forgiving each other too easily and maybe their hearts are made of glass, fragile and ready to crack again under the slightest pressure, but it feels so much better to forgive than the opposite.
"Hey Allie?"
Allie hums questioningly.
"I missed you."
Allie's smile is bright enough to power the entire planet.
Bea glances at Liz, whose calm eyes are telling her that everything is going to be alright. She doesn't believe it for a second. She won't fool herself. They may be in a normal meeting room they rented in a perfectly ordinary building located miles away from the shelter, she still feels like the place is too small and rigged with grenades.
This is a bad idea. This is the idea that she should have killed in her mind before it even reached her consciousness. This is the one idea that she really wishes she never had. Agreeing to meet Harry one last time was a terrible decision, even if they meet in a neutral place and Liz is there as a witness. It doesn't matter that she has her phone in her hand with the police's number on speed dial, being here still feels like a terrible, suicidal decision.
She tells herself that she won't feel anything when he arrives, that she won't be scared, that she won't be relieved, that she won't be angry. She tells herself that she can control herself and that she has nothing to worry about. She tells herself that when she sees him, she'll politely greet him and hears what he has to say, and then respectfully answers. She tells herself that they'll leave each other with a polite handshake and that they will never see each other again.
When he arrives, she nearly collapses on the floor from the wave of emotions that wraps around her neck and suffocates her.
She'd almost forgotten how tall he is, how impressive he is when he stands, and how confident his voice is when he talks. She'd almost forgotten that his eyes are kind when he's not angry, and that his charm knows no limits when he wants something. She'd almost forgotten that once upon a time, she fell in love with him, and that there were good reasons for her to feel this way.
He's nothing but a manipulator now, and she feels angry because she remembers the way those hands had wrapped around her neck or torn her shirt apart or slapped her across the face too many times.
She feels pathetic because she feels like she's putting her own life in danger.
She feels unexpectedly relieved that he smiles at her like he can control himself for one damn day in his life. Too bad this day comes too little too late.
If Allie knew, she would probably barge inside and murder the man herself, but Bea has kept this meeting a secret from everyone she knows. She couldn't handle the possible looks of disappointment and judgment that she might have received.
Now, she somehow wishes she'd told Allie.
What if she doesn't come out of this room alive?
"Bea," he greets as he sits in front of her. "And you are?"
"Liz," Liz replies without shaking Harry's extended hand. "I'm here as support to Bea and to make sure that this meeting goes well."
The hidden meaning of her words is loud and clear, and Harry nods, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. He doesn't look nervous at all, but his lips form a thin line and he appears to be calculating everyone's every move. His eyes settle on Bea's.
"You look well."
"You mean without bruises all over me?" Bea replies harshly. "Yeah, not being hit every day does make a person look well."
A flash of regret appears in his eyes, but he shakes it away with a movement of the head.
"Now, let's not forget why we're here," Liz intervenes. She doesn't want this meeting to last longer than needed, and she really doesn't want it to go out of control. "You're here to talk about the divorce and that is all we will talk about, alright?"
Bea nods, and Harry follows, crossing his arms over his chest. He waits for Bea to speak first, but receiving only silence in return, shakes his head in disbelief and speaks.
"You want a divorce?" He asks. "I don't."
"I don't care what you want," Bea coldly replies. "I want you to sign the papers, and that's it. Then we're done. You can keep everything. The house, the car. I just want you out of my life."
"What about Debbie?" He replies with a strong voice. "You want to destroy our family? I won't let you. I'm her father. I have rights. I won't let you do this."
"You destroyed the family," Bea states, ignoring the rest of the sentence. "You're the reason this is happening right now, not me. You took away my rights, I don't owe you anything."
She's done taking the blame for things she isn't responsible for. She's done pretending like Harry is the good person between the two of them. She's done forgiving him when he doesn't deserve anything from her.
She's done with him. She doesn't want to talk to him. She doesn't want to listen to him. She doesn't want to see him. She just wants him out of her life, out of Debbie's life. She couldn't care less about his happiness.
She wants him to get the fuck out of her brain.
"I don't like being disrespected," Harry shrugs. "I was simply responding to the way you treated me."
Bea almost laughs and flips the table right in his face, but she resists the urge and simply rolls her eyes instead.
"I don't like being hit, but I guess you didn't care about that," Bea says without hesitating. "What do you want? Why did you want to meet me?"
To his credit, Harry looks ashamed of himself when Bea's words reach his ears.
He could never control his emotions and his actions, and today, he's realizing that he should have asked for more serious help when he had the chance. Today, he's losing the war, a war he started by underestimating his enemy.
"I wanted to ask you to reconsider."
Bea frowns. She turns to look at Liz, whose eyes are telling her to be careful.
"We can make this work," he continues with pleading eyes. "I can be a better man, a better father, a better husband. I can take care of us, we don't need a divorce."
Bea stares at him in the eyes and shakes her head like she can't believe he's even asking her to reconsider. She remembers too well what it means when he says he'll take care of them.
He'll take care of them with his fists and his vile words, and his torturous manners.
He'll take care of them by throwing empty bottles at them and slamming doors all around the house.
He'll take care of them by threatening them with a knife and then laughing at their terrified looks.
He'll take care of them by stalking them when they are outside the house and infesting every single aspect of their life with his mischievous actions.
"This isn't a discussion," Bea declares through gritted teeth. "I want a divorce. I'll get it with force if I have to."
Screw his consent. Screw asking him. Screw begging him. She wants her freedom.
"Bea, please. I can be better. I'll work a program. I'll put in the efforts. I'll let you do what you want. I can do it." He looks at her like she holds the world in her eyes, but all she sees in his are wastelands and empty skies.
Bea doesn't believe a word he says. She's tired of his lies and exhausted from having to listen to the same speech for the hundredth time. She used to believe him and his beautiful promises. She used to crawl back to him and apologize for hurting him, denying herself the truth, that she was the one hurting. He always ended up going back to his old ways.
"I suggest you sign the papers. Is there anything else?" she asks, signaling Liz that she's ready to leave.
She's feeling slightly uneasy in his presence, aware that a single word can blow his façade.
"Yes, there is," he says calmly, with a voice that Bea recognizes.
He uses that voice when he's angry. He uses it when he's unhappy and wants things to go his way. He uses it when he knows he's about to strike and hurt, and Bea braces herself.
She stands up and walks to the door, ready to leave before he speaks, but the words reach her, like knifes piercing through her armor. He aims to make her bleed until she dies slowly and painfully.
"Debbie came to see me."
Even Liz, whose mind anticipates the different scenarios, can't stop Bea from spinning around and rushing back to the table, leaning as close to Harry as possible.
"You stay away from her," she growls while pointing her index finger at his face. Her worst fears are being confirmed and she can't, simply can't think of a way to stay calm. "You stay the fuck away from my daughter. If you touch her, I'll kill you."
She doesn't care how it sounds, she's never been more serious in her life.
"Your daughter," Harry replies with a wicked smirk, "came to me. I didn't do anything. I didn't even know she was back, she just showed up at my door. Now, Bea, don't you think if we get a divorce, it'll only make her situation worse?"
Fuck, she hopes it isn't what she thinks it is. She doesn't say anything, but Harry must see that she doesn't know what he's talking about, because he looks like he's just hit the jackpot.
"Really? Don't you know?" Harry smiles innocently. "I thought you knew. I guess you aren't such a good mother if she doesn't even speak to you."
"Shut up!" she pronounces loudly. "You don't get to say that."
She fights his words with all her strength, but they've already taken roots in her brain.
Or maybe they had never left in the first place.
"She came to me to tell me she was seeing this boy, Brayden," Harry continues, not the least bothered by Bea's outburst. "Told me he was giving her some nasty stuffs. She said she liked it. She said she couldn't wait to leave again. Why do you think she does that? Why do you think your daughter is doing drugs, while you're here without a fucking clue about it?"
The roots are growing, stronger and impossible to cut down.
"Now, this meeting is over," Liz interrupts. "Let's go, Bea."
She walks to the door and gestures for Bea to follow, but the redhead's attention is impossible to steal as Bea keeps directing her flaming glare at Harry.
"It's my daughter too," Harry groans. "It's my daughter's life that you're putting in danger because you're so fucking selfish. You're driving her away. If you hadn't sent her to the other side of the world, she'd be fine."
"I sent her because of you."
"She never took drugs when she was with me," Harry replied harshly. "I have the right be worried for Debbie."
Bea thinks she might be sick.
It's her fault.
It's all her fault.
"I never should have married you," Harry spits, showing his true self. "You're useless. Can't even tell when your daughter needs help. Can't even get that divorce you want so badly. And then you ask me to trust you with Deb?"
"Bea!" Liz insists, placing a calm hand on Bea's back. "It's time to go, love. You've done what you could."
Bea shakes her head. This isn't over. This isn't how it is supposed to go. There's a freaking forest of filthy statements in her mind.
She isn't supposed to feel like she's being buried six feet under ground. She is supposed to smile above Harry and lets him know that she's the real winner, that she escaped him, that she can stand on her own now.
She's supposed to show him that he can't control her anymore, but instead, she's back to being small and inexistent in this world. She's back to feeling like she should shoot a bullet through her brain and end it all.
"You'll never see her again," Bea rages. "You're a monster and if I see you again, near me or Debbie, you'll regret it."
Harry shrugs as the words bounce on his arrogance.
"You'll always be nothing. To me, to Debbie, to whoever else you meet. I'm not the monster here. I'm what's best for our daughter."
Harry's words disappear in the distance as Liz pulls Bea strongly by the arm and forces her out of the meeting room.
Liz tries to stop her.
She tries to stop Bea from going out, as if she knows that a crisis is coming in the horizon.
She calls out her name and even refuses to open the shelter's door.
But Bea is stronger, and more stubborn, and the pain is deeper than it has been in weeks.
She storms out of Wentworth and doesn't specify when she'll be back.
Bea closes the door behind her. It squeaks in a frightening manner until it shuts the rest of the world out.
You're nothing.
The salon is quiet, and only the sound of the key in her hand breaks the silence. She looks around her. She puts the keys in her pocket, grateful that Doreen trusted her enough already to give her access to the salon whenever she wants.
You're worthless.
Everything is completely black, but the bits that are illuminated by the moonlight. Her own silhouette looks like a skeleton as it projects itself on the walls, and she feels like she might be a dead corpse walking amongst the livings.
You're useless.
She stands in the middle of the salon for a few minutes. Just a few hours ago, she'd had a job offer. She feels a deep feeling of joy blooming in her chest, but it's soon gone when the emptiness creeps on her again. The chairs look at her and the mirror sends back her reflection in all directions. The perfectly clean tables and the organized tools are waiting to be used again the next day.
You're unloved.
Bea thinks that this is the kind of place that Harry would have asked her to resign from, a few years ago. And now, it's insane to believe that she's got it all back. A job, a salary, her financial autonomy, her career. She hadn't dared dreamed of this day before, convinced that she was only fooling herself. She sighs as her eyes shut close and an unpleasant feeling takes over her.
You're the one who started it.
Her ears are still ringing with Harry's angry voice yelling around her. His insults are still swirling in her head. His statements are still burning scars inside her brain. His laughs are still paralyzing her with fears of reprisal. His eyes are still locked into hers, gleaming with victory as he speaks of their daughter, acting like he knows his words are suffocating Bea.
You'll always be nothing.
She opens her eyes and they zone in on the small, neatly placed razor blades on the counter.
There are no razor blades at her disposal at Wentworth. They're taken by the employees and kept in their office for safety reason, and the only way she can get access to them is by asking. It's wise, but it isn't enough to stop Bea, not tonight when she's too aware that she has no scars anymore and that her skin is brand new. A skin she feels she doesn't deserve.
She shouldn't.
She really shouldn't, but to know that her daughter went to see Harry, that she lied to her, that she does take drugs… and to know that Harry's still there, triumphing and living his best life when she's feels like she's forever stuck in the bottom of a bottomless pit, it's all too much and it muffles the small successes of her life. She doesn't even see the small successes anymore. She doesn't even see how far she's come.
Just like she doesn't notice the moving shadow just outside the window.
She really, really shouldn't, but she still walks toward the pile of blades and picks one delicately between her index and her thumb. It is light, and if controlled by a calm, steady hand, it can perform miracle on someone's hair.
In her trembling fingers, it becomes a deathly weapon, and when she holds it against her chest, it feels like she can't breathe anymore.
She walks to the back of the salon and leans against the wall, letting herself slide until she hits the floor gently. She waits until her heart stops trying to beat its way outside her chest and her head stops spinning like she's in a bad ride at an amusement park. She waits until she knows she's ready.
She lowers her pants slowly, exposing herself to the heavy shame she feels.
She takes one deep breath as she presses the blade on her skin. She leaves it there, immobile as she sinks in the familiar pressure after so long. It doesn't feel good, but it isn't bad either. It's strangely comforting.
She traces an horizontal line. It burns sharply as a thin line of blood peaks from between the cut skin.
The door flies open suddenly, and Bea flinches so hard that the blade slides against her skin a second time, deeper. This time, she winces in pain and she knows her intruder can see her.
It's Allie. Only Allie would know where to find her. Only Allie always appears when Bea needs her the most. Only Allie seems to have a sixth sense to always arrive on time, always interrupt Bea's grief.
She can't breathe. She holds her breath as Allie approaches her, and she clenches the blade so hard between her fingers that she thinks she might break it in half. She waits for Allie to yell at her, to steal the blade from her and to throw it on the other side of the salon. She waits for Allie to scream and calls the police, and tells her she's stupid and fucked up. She waits for Allie to look at her like she's scum and leave her alone.
Allie does none of that.
Allie stares down at her for less than a second before she understands the situation.
Bea looks down, ashamed and feeling smaller than she's ever been.
Allie gently removes the blade from between Bea's fingers and places it on the counter.
Bea opens her mouth, wants to speak, to explain herself, but no sound escapes from her throat.
Allie silently slides next to her, joining Bea in her anguish, unafraid of the dark.
Bea swallows the lump in her throat and stiffens when Allie moves closer to her.
Allie takes a cloth, soaks it with water, and offers it without any judgment in her action.
Bea takes it, presses it to the wound and regrets everything.
Allie waits a moment before she places her hand gently on top of Bea's.
Time stills.
Silent reigns.
Love grows.
Bea wants to disappear, but Allie refuses to let her.
Thank you for reading :)