Chapter's title comes from "Sunrise", the acoustic version, by Our Last Night
Chapter 12: Held prisoner of war
The first day Allie Novak spies on Harry Smith is the moment she knows she's not allowed to make mistakes anymore.
She almost gets caught when he brutally turns around and runs back to his house, having forgotten something. She launches herself behind the largest tree she can find, lungs aching and heart pounding in her chest. She quickly notes her observations and waits until she's sure that he won't come back before she does a quick scan of the house. She writes down the location of every window and every door, and she draws a rough sketch of the different rooms of the house.
The second day, she arrives before he wakes up. It's easy for her to leave the shelter she's in. It's not like Wentworth, she can exit whenever she pleases.
She watches his shadow behind the curtains and she notices that he mostly stays in the kitchen and the living room, rarely in his bedroom. She waits until he leaves for work and notes the hour. She follows him all day, to his workplace and to the little restaurant where he eats lunch. She watches him until the moon replaces the sun, and she leaves when he turns off all lights and falls asleep. Her back aches and her stomach growls, but she beams with the new data she's gathered.
The third day, she expects him to be suspicious. She isn't the subtlest person in the world, and even though she tries her best to hide, there are chances it isn't enough.
She waits until he's gone to read what she's noted so far. He eats breakfast at seven in the morning, takes a shower that lasts ten minutes, and leaves for work about fifteen minutes later. He locks his door, takes his car and doesn't come back home until five thirty in the evening. He eats at home, cooks for himself, and stays in the living room to watch tv until he heads for bed. Sometimes, he seems to be talking on the phone, but most of the time, he's alone. It's been like this for three days.
The fourth day, he comes back from work and leaves his place about fifteen minutes later.
She frowns at the inconsistency with the previous day, but everything makes sense when she sees him coming back with a few bags from the grocery store. She stares as he unloads his car, leaving the door wide open while he goes back and forth between the house and the vehicle. It takes him about five minutes before he locks his car and walks into his house for the evening. The curtains are wide open, and she doesn't leave until he's done cooking.
The fifth day, she follows him to work again, wanting to see if there's anything different than the days before.
He arrives at work at eight thirty and only leaves at one in the afternoon to go for lunch. His break lasts an hour, during which he goes to the same restaurant to eat lunch. He goes back directly to work, using the same road that he did last time. He leaves the office at five o'clock and drives home directly. He doesn't stop anywhere. When he's back, he starts cooking and doesn't waste a moment before he's back in the living room for the evening.
The sixth day, it's Saturday, and she notes everything in her notebook. It's not much different than his weekday.
He wakes up around nine in the morning, gets breakfast, takes a ten minutes shower, and heads out. She follows him as he runs errands, but by noon, he's stopped at a bar. She takes a table in the farthest corner and orders a plate of fries. She eats as slowly as she can, scrutinizing him as he drinks many beers. He stays there until it's dark outside and then, he drives back home, and she shivers when she realizes he's not nearly sober enough to take the wheel.
The seventh day is a copy of Saturday, except it's Sunday.
He leaves home as early as he did before, and she wonders why he's not sick from the night before. He drives aimlessly before he arrives at the bar at noon, orders a glass of beer, and plays pool with man she doesn't recognize. She lets her eyes wander around. It's a normal bar, with loud music being blasted from the speakers as soon as the sun goes down in the sky. He leaves the bar and drives home at the same time as Saturday's.
He wakes up the next day and his habits haven't changed.
It takes over a week, but Allie thinks she's cracked Harry's routine.
She doesn't tell Bea.
The first day Bea Smith walks in the library to stalk Brayden Holt, she heads straight for the computers.
She sits at a desk and stares blankly at the dark screen for a few minutes before she sighs and finally presses the power button. It feels like it takes years for the screen to display the familiar Google search page. She lets her fingers hover over the keyboard. She closes her fists, opens them, clenches them, fidgets with her fingers and the palms of her hands until she slaps them together and rubs them in a nervous motion. She can't press a single key. She leaves an hour later.
The second day, she tells herself that today is the day, that yesterday was a simple glitch in her life. She nods to herself when she finally types a few words.
The clicking sound is the proof that she's doing it, that she's not backing off. The Facebook page loads and Bea logs into an account that she hasn't used in years. She barely recognizes herself on her own profile picture, and she doesn't know the majority of her so-called friends anymore. She types the name of her daughter in the search bar, but she can't press enter. They are friends on this social media, but it still feels wrong to spy her. She leaves, disappointed in herself.
The third day, she tries calling Debbie. There's no answer, no matter how many times she calls or texts, and she thinks that if she keeps going, her own daughter might file a restraining order against her.
It's been too long since she heard Debbie's voice, and she has no idea what is going on oversea. She's trying to keep the terrible theories out of her mind, but they keep knocking down her rationality, and soon, she's scared that she's too late to save Debbie. She cries herself to sleep, and the next morning, she feels sick.
The fourth day, she runs back to the library, slams the door open and goes online without a second thought.
She finds her daughter's profile without any trouble, and relief washes over her when she sees that the latest post is from a few hours ago. Debbie wrote that she's having a good time at the cabin, and there's a picture attached. Debbie's smile is worth a fortune, and Bea stares at the image until her eyes burn. There's a man in the picture, his arm around Debbie's shoulders, and Bea doesn't need to check the name to know that he's the infamous boyfriend.
The fifth day, she notices that Debbie has posted a lot of things online. Quotes, memories, more pictures, a few anecdotes from her classes.
Bea marvels at all the details from Debbie's life, details that she's never had access to because Debbie refused to speak to her on the phone. She learns that Debbie's grades are beyond amazing, that Debbie's been invited to way too many parties in the recent weeks, and that the cabin is just another excuse to drink. She worries, but Debbie's smile is still as brilliant as ever.
The sixth day, she clicks on Brayden's name. She isn't his friend, so she doesn't have access to many things, but she notices that he's changed his relationship status a few months ago, proving that he's been dating Debbie for a while.
His profile picture is simple. It's just him, staring right at the camera and posing with a smile that Bea can't identify. She wonders if it's confidence, arrogance, or a mix of both. She wonders if this is Brayden's real face, or if there is more to him than this smile. She almost sends him a message, but she stops herself just in time. She can't risk breaking her relationship with Debbie even more than she already has.
The seventh day, she's right on time to see Debbie's newest post.
It's a picture of her with Brayden and a couple more friends. They're all posing comically with a sublime view of the lake behind them. Debbie has a smile on her lips while Brayden appears to be sneaking from behind her, sticking his tongue at the person taking the picture. Bea looks at the picture for a long time, engraving the way Debbie glows in her brain.
Debbie doesn't have this fearful look in her eyes, she doesn't seem like she's about to run away, or like she's tiptoeing around her words. She looks free. She looks happy. She looks proud.
It takes a week, but Bea thinks she's ready to give Brayden Holt a chance.
"You're moving tomorrow," Allie smiles when she sees Bea walking in her direction with a small paper bag in her hands. She stands up and welcomes Bea with a tight embrace.
It's the middle of the day and they're meeting at their park for what Allie believes will be the last time. Gone will be their late-night exchanges or their midnight adventures. After all, Bea will be moving to her new apartment in less than twenty-four hours, and it isn't quite close to Wentworth or this park. It's in a different district, with new places to explore and new memories to make.
Allie feels a bit sad.
Bea's moving forward. It's the beginning of the end. She'll have to work. She'll have to cook for herself. She'll have to create her own little routine that might not leave time for sleepless nights or secret conversations. She'll have to juggle with new responsibilities. Really, she's doing good, great even.
And Allie? Allie still feels like she has mountains to climb and oceans to swim across.
She feels like she's nowhere near where Bea is, and if she doesn't hurry the hell up, she might never catch up. She still has to find a place to stay so she can leave this godforsaken shelter she's staying at and focus on finding a job.
"I'm not going so far," Bea chuckles when Allie squeezes the life out of her.
"It's the end of an era," Allie replies, head buried in Bea's hair. "We met here, remember? And you were like a lost puppy, and you didn't even want to accept a snack from me. It's hard to think it's only been a few months."
There's something in the way that Allie says those words that makes Bea's lips curl up to a melancholic smile.
"You're doing better too," Bea points out, detaching herself from Allie's clingy arms so she can kiss her cheek gently. "We both are different, don't you think? In a good way."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you can finally leave Wentworth," Allie declares as she sits on the bench and pulls Bea close to her. "I'm just going to miss that."
"What do you mean?"
"This," Allie gestures between the two of them. "Us, just knowing where to go to be together, no matter what time it is or what the world around us is doing."
Bea nods silently. She'll miss that too. She won't have to ask permission to walk out the door at five in the morning, but then again, she doesn't think she'll have the opportunity to do so anymore. And she isn't naïve, she knows that Allie will need time to figure some things out too.
Their perfect balance couldn't last forever.
"Are you really okay?" Allie murmurs, eyes glancing down at Bea's thighs. She wishes she didn't have to ask, but she does, because she doesn't know how else to stop her heart from worrying.
Bea swallows difficultly.
She can feel the tingles from the healing scars whenever she walks. She's acutely aware that she's cut herself not too long ago and that her battle isn't over yet. She thinks that if anyone else had found her that night, the impact wouldn't have been the same. She might have continued. She might have given up. She might have lied to Allie.
She wants to say that she's doing better, but she isn't sure of the answer herself. What if she's fooling herself? What is the monster is just hiding before it surprises her again, stronger than before?
It feels like the second the words will leave her mouth, everything might crash again. If she admits that she's fine, then the universe might go against her to prove her just how wrong she is.
She thinks of her job, of her apartment, of her plans for tomorrow when she'll move in. She thinks of her last night at Wentworth, and how she'll miss her room despite everything that has happened.
Her room had witnessed the burning bridges between her daughter and she. It had also seen the triumph of Allie against the drugs. It had heard her laughs and her cries at different moments of her stay. It had shaken to her prayers and winced under her punches. It had listened to her pleas and trembled to the sound of her screaming voice. It had grown with her.
She thinks she'll leave a piece of her soul in that room.
"I'm doing better," she smiles. "I haven't hurt myself."
Allie nods firmly and squeezes Bea's hand in approval.
"You'll tell me if you want to, right?" she asks with a small, insecure voice.
"Yeah," Bea lets out with a strangled voice.
She doesn't quite believe in her own words, and Allie knows it.
"I'm serious," Allie adds after a few seconds of silence.
"I know."
"So will you? Tell me?"
Bea can promise Allie that she will tell her, but if it ever happens, in the spur of the moment, she has no way of predicting her reaction. Still, she believes Allie will find her, like she's always done.
"I promise I'll try," she concedes.
It's the best she can do and Allie accepts it.
They remain quiet for a while and watch the clouds. One of them looks like a seahorse, and they both smile knowingly, rich with a fortune of their own, their eyes glued to the sky.
For a moment, Bea forgets that she's on the ground. She thinks she's one with the fabric of the sky itself, weightless and fearless, and that she could shout her words and let go of her cursed memories where no one can hear her. The birds would pass her by and try to decode her language, but they'd give up and carry on to their unknown destinations. And she'd keep floating away from her damaged past.
Her breath itches when she comes back down to Earth and realizes that Allie's lips are so close to hers that it's a miracle she can't feel them on her own. Her eyes focus on Allie's and she wonders why she's dreaming about the sky when the bluest shades are right there in front of her.
"I thought you'd never come back," Allie whispers, pressing a chaste kiss on Bea's lips.
It barely lasts, but it's enough to melt Bea's heart.
An obvious idea crosses her mind and she desperately tries to find the right words to tell Allie.
She wishes she were back to the old times, when the smallest piece of paper could be folded in half, its precious message well guarded inside as it made its way across a classroom, from one student to another.
All Allie would have to do is check yes or no, and Bea wouldn't ever need to hear the possible rejection out loud.
But she has no pen with her, and she isn't in a classroom anymore, and her feelings are a bit too intense to be written on a piece of paper.
She takes the key out of the paper bag she's been holding and shows it to Allie.
"This is the key to my new place."
Allie grins like Bea is holding the winning lottery ticket.
"I learned a lot of things when I was with Harry," Bea whispers, twirling the key in her hand, feeling every part of the hard, cold metal on her skin. "I learned to hate my body. I learned to stay quiet when I wanted to yell. I learned that money couldn't save a life, and that punching back wasn't always helpful. I learned how to speak in code with my daughter, and how to lie to the entire world."
She pauses and licks her lips. She wants to kiss away the frown on Allie's face. It's adorable, but it doesn't belong on Allie's face.
"And with you, I learned how to love myself and how to speak out loud," she finishes with a quiet exhale. "I learned to live, and to see a future, and it's fucking glorious."
She scoffs softly.
"What if we could still be together, no matter what time it is?" Bea thinks out loud.
What if we didn't have to say goodbye anymore?
What if we woke up together every morning and went to bed together every night?
What if we started building our own castle already?
"I want you to come live with me. I want this to be the key to our new place. It's the least I can do. You've helped me more than you can imagine."
She blinks confusedly when Allie moves away from her.
She misses her proximity already.
"For a moment, I thought you were going to propose," Allie breathes out heavily, unsure whether she's reassured or even more freaked out by Bea's suggestion.
She still isn't used to the idea that someone, someone like Bea, might care for her.
That someone like Bea might want to keep her around.
Bea's mouth hangs open for a few seconds before she quickly closes it and clears her throat, looking away in embarrassment.
"Nah, that's not – That's too – You know," she stutters. "Just, move in with me. It's a small, reasonable request."
She tried being married before. It didn't work out. She isn't even sure if she'll ever want to entertain that idea again.
The blonde appears to be thinking about Bea's words for a moment. She doesn't say anything, just frowns, and blinks, and looks away like she's uncomfortable being here. She doesn't separate her hand from Bea's, but it becomes hot and sweaty. For a second, Bea thinks that Allie is having a stroke.
"I can't," Allie replies, a bit taken aback by the request. "I don't have anything, Bea. I can't just move in with you and help you pay rent."
There's a reason she'd chosen to live in the streets before. Sure, she didn't have any money, and that played a big role in her decision, but that's not just it.
She had a home and she was kicked out for being gay, and then again, for working the streets.
She had a home and her lover cheated on her and introduced her to drugs.
She had a home and she got expulsed the second she relapsed.
She'll lose it. She'll betray Bea and she'll find herself in the streets again, and it'll hurt so much more than before.
"I don't need you to help with rent. You can take your time, find a job… I know it isn't easy."
"No, Bea. I can't."
Bea leans closer, identifying Allie's fears.
"You gave me a job. You encouraged me when I couldn't find a place. You held my hands when I couldn't control myself anymore. It's stupid and maybe I'm wrong and delusional, but you're the reason I've gotten that far. I- I don't have a castle to give you, but I'm thinking we don't need one. I owe you so much, and you need a place, and this is something I can offer you."
"You really want to live with me?" Allie smirks, insecurities dancing in her blue orbs. "You're not afraid you're going to discover I'm a serial killer or I have terrible habits."
"I already spend most of my days with you, it can't be much worse. I tolerate you enough to be your housemate," Bea replies with a heavy voice that illustrates how terrible this burden it.
She receives a playful slap on the shoulder as Allie shakes her head at her.
"Really, I'm asking you," Bea repeats, "move in with me?"
"I have nothing," Allie states like a mantra.
She has a few clothes, a few items, and the heaviest past she carries continuously.
"Good," Bea replies with a confident smile. "That's exactly what I'm asking from you. Nothing."
"You'll regret it and then I'll have to start again," Allie says jokingly with a trembling voice.
"Maybe I'll regret it," Bea admits. She can't see the future after all. "Maybe this is a rushed idea, but look at us! We're the definition of insanity. We're the definition of a fate full of madness. We should live up to our reputation and keep going."
Allie's eyes twinkle with a new hope and a warm feeling fills her chest.
"Fine. But only because we're crazy."
"You make me do crazy things," Bea shrugs like it's all Allie's fault.
"You make me crazy," Allie replies without missing a beat.
Bea shows up at Allie's shelter a couple hours later.
She waits until Allie peaks her head out of the building and comes join her.
She watches with a smile as Allie skips to her in her usual childish way.
"What do you have for me?" Allie asks with a sly grin.
Bea chuckles and pulls a single key out of her back pocket.
"You should have let me get it myself," Allie laughs as she takes the key in her hand.
She's holding freedom in her hand.
"Do you like it?" Bea asks, pointing to the small engraved A in the key. "It's yours."
"I love it," Allie replies, heart beating fast and full of life.
I love …
She can't believe she'll leave this room tomorrow morning. She doesn't want to go to bed, for it is too exciting, too stressful to rest her head on the pillow and beg for sleep to come rescue her. She walks out of her room a little after midnight and heads for the living room. Without any surprise, she finds Maxine reading a book. Boomer is sleeping soundly next to her, head falling to the side.
Maxine looks up and smiles when she sees her friend approaching. She puts her book on the small coffee table and she motions for Bea to sit beside her. The couch squeaks when Bea willingly obeys. A lone lamp lights up the room, and their shadows are projected on the walls around them, like guards protecting their small unplanned meeting. Bea looks down at her hands and only meets Maxine's eyes when the silence is broken.
"Last night, are you excited?" Maxine asks with a hushed voice.
"When are you leaving?" Bea frowns, dodging the question because she doesn't know at all how she feels.
She's been here two months. That's the maximum amount of the time Wentworth lets anyone stay here. Maxine and Boomer should have gone by now, or at least, they should be trying to find a place.
"I don't know. I was told that they could wait until I got treatment, and then find a place to move."
"Good," Bea nods. "You shouldn't move too much, you know?"
Maxine laughs a little, and throws her signature it'll be alright look at Bea.
"Do you know when the operation will be?"
"In a few weeks. It's the earliest they can take me. Boomer insisted that she comes with me, but I think she'll be moving out. She applied for another shelter, one that rents small apartments and offers some more support. I think she's afraid to tell me that she got in."
There's a small hint of disappointment in Maxine's voice.
"She doesn't want to hurt you," Bea says.
"She's hurting me by not telling me," Maxine answers sadly.
They both look at Boomer's sleeping figure for a moment. The woman has a heart of gold and the purest intentions, but sometimes, like everyone, she doesn't make the best decisions.
It's gigantic, the number of people that are hurt by things left unsaid, everyday. Whoever decided that hiding the truth was easier than the opposite was wrong, Maxine thinks with a raging sadness in her chest.
"It's so strange, everyone's leaving," Bea sighs. "It'll be like we were never here."
Maxine closes her eyes, and Bea has a small moment of panic during which she imagines herself yelling for help and rushing Maxine to the hospital, but soon again, Maxine looks at her like she knows the secrets of the universe.
"We're leaving so others like us can find a home," she simply says, and Bea loves how Maxine always seems to find the perfect thing to say at the perfect time.
She relaxes her shoulders and falls deeper into the comfort of the couch. She grins wider when she hears the light snores coming from Boomer's direction, but she doesn't say anything.
Maxine gets up to get a cuppa and when she comes back, she lets a few minutes pass before she speaks again.
"I don't know where I'm going after, but I'm not afraid because I'll have you guys. I had many nights like this, where I'd sit and read and wait for morning to come. And most of the time, I was alone, until you came along. If I ever need company, I'll just ring you and you'll come running," she eyes Bea and Boomer, and she speaks like she doesn't have a life-threatening illness.
Bea snorts and agrees. There's nothing she wouldn't do for her friends.
"I understand how Franky felt when she left this place," Bea whispers. "It's terrifying."
She's gotten used to this place, to its laws and its rhythm. She'll have to learn how to cook again, how to do grocery shopping, how to lock the door herself every time she leaves her place. She'll have to organize her schedule so that she has enough time to run errands and sleep a decent amount. She'll have to get accustomed to a new street, a new park, a new life. She'll have to get used to the silence, because there won't be any kids around her anymore, or any mothers yelling orders at their family.
She'll have to take the freedom that is offered to her, and make sure she doesn't abuse it, make sure she still has enough organization in her life. She won't have any meetings with social workers telling her what's best for her. She won't have someone always watching her every move. She won't have to share a damn bathroom with a dozen other people, and that's the smallest, most important thing she can think about.
"I asked Allie to move in with me. She agreed," Bea's triumphal look while she says this is priceless and makes Maxine's eyes shine with joy. "We're going to live together."
"Of course, she agreed. Was there ever a doubt you two wouldn't end up living together? I could have guessed it from the very first time I saw you both."
"She refused at first," Bea explains. "She said she didn't have anything to bring with her."
"She'll come around naked?" Maxine nudges Bea's shoulder.
A tomato wouldn't be redder than Bea's face.
Hell, the color red wouldn't be redder than Bea's face.
"That's the worst joke I've ever heard," Bea mutters, begging the blood to leave her face. "And you know exactly what I meant."
"Oh, come on, Bea, I have eyes. She looks great. You're telling me you've never thought about it?"
The problem isn't that she's never thought about it, it's that she can't stop thinking about it recently, and that she has no clue where to go from there. She's told Allie about nearly everything she could think of, and Allie has been nothing but understanding.
But does that mean that she'll have to be the one dictating their pace? She's freaking out just thinking about it, and it's only now that she's realizing that sharing a place with Allie means that they'll inevitably see each other without three layers of clothes on.
"You never told me, but did you finally tell her you like her?" Maxine changes the subject and the blood literally drains from Bea's face within seconds. They're heading in a dangerous territory.
Bea shakes her head and avoids Maxine's piercing eyes.
"Bea Smith, you promised! I'm a dying woman!" Maxine claims, both hands dramatically pressed against her chest. "You wouldn't deny me my last wishes, would you?"
"Piss off. I wanted to and then she told me about Debbie and… and I lost it, and then there just wasn't time."
She thinks to herself that yes, there were plenty of time, but it's not her fault the words were stuck in her brain and didn't want to come out through her mouth.
Maxine rolls her eyes
"You're an idiot."
"I know!" Bea protests, still unable to forget the most horrible conversation of her life. "Trust me, I know."
"Do you really? Or do I need to knock some sense into your brain? I may be sick, but I'm still strong enough."
"I don't need you to do anything," Bea frowns.
"Did you apologize?" Maxine's accusatory tone is carved in diamonds.
"Of course, I did!"
Maxine still glares at her like she made the worst mistake of her life, and Bea squirms on the couch. Maxine thinks for a moment before she lets another one of her famous life lessons out of her mouth. Bea wonders what she'll do without her daily dose of wisdom from Maxine.
"People like Allie, you don't find them twice in your life."
"What does that mean?" Bea asks with a grumpy voice, acting like a five years old kid being scolded by their parent.
"It means you don't do stupid things to drive them away," Maxine sighs, shaking her head at her friend. "Like you did. How many times will I have to tell you? I won't always be there to teach you about life! You need to step up."
"I get it, alright?! I already had Franky on my back. I messed up, but it's fine now. We're fine. We're moving in together."
And just like that, Bea's smile on back on her face and a dreamy look masks any other less positive emotions from her features. She looks like she's Totally In Love, with all the capital letters necessary, and part of Maxine cheers and celebrates while the other part is slightly disgusted.
Maxine stares longingly at Bea, a small smile on her lips and an explosion of emotions in her eyes.
"I'm happy for you, Bea," she declares with a soft voice. "You deserve this, love."
Bea shakes her head in denial.
"I don't, but Allie does. I'll give her a place where she'll have a fair chance at this. I don't feel like I've given her enough," Bea admits. "I just don't know what to do exactly."
Maxine hums knowingly. She sips her tea without a word, waiting for Bea to say anything else. She wonders if Bea is tired yet. It's late, and while the pain in her body keeps her awake, she knows the ache in Bea's head might be greater.
She's going to miss those conversations. She's going to miss the constant ways she can tease Bea about her relationship. She's going to miss Bea's comforting eyes on her, and the way Bea never treats her differently, no matter how shitty she might feel at the end of a day.
"I just hope it'll be enough for her," Bea huffs.
"I was afraid that I'd lose you," Maxine replies softly. "And Franky, and Booms, when I received more news on my cancer. I was afraid I wouldn't be enough anymore. I knew I already didn't do much, but this time, I'd really be stuck in bed rest for a few months. And I thought, surely, these women will have more important things to do than to look after me. They'll stop humouring me and they'll finally drop me."
She used to not sleep, overthinking about what she'd do once her support system would leave her.
"You don't need to bring anything more than yourself to be enough for someone. I think Allie knows it," Maxine insists.
She takes a dramatic pause and winks at her friend.
"But you, Bea Smith, you have so much to learn," Maxine says with a disappointed voice, eyes shining with malice.
Bea scoffs loudly and narrows her eyes at Maxine.
"I'm older than you are."
"You still don't know shit! Even after two months here," Maxine states the obvious with a shrug. "But it's okay, I accept you as you are. Lack of neurons and all that."
"Shut up!" Bea laughs.
The conversation takes a lighter turn when they spend a few minutes teasing each other and trying to watch the volume of their voices. They freeze when Boomer moves in her sleep, and starts again, louder than before, when they remember that Boomer could sleep through an earthquake.
"Thank you for talking to me on my first night here," Bea praises when she finally gets up to go back to her room, "you made me feel welcome."
Maxine nods, absently looking at the ceiling.
"Thank you for talking to me on your last night here."
Bea's foot kicks Maxine, as if it was the redhead's way of telling her that she wouldn't have it any other way.
She glances one last time at her room before she finally shuts the door, locking away two months of her life behind. She stands silently in front of it for a few seconds, and takes a deep breath before she walks away.
Her last conversation with Vera is short. It consists of them talking about what she's accomplished in the last two months, what she's proud of and what she knows she must keep working on. Despite a few sentences muttered half-heartfeltly about Harry, it is a successful positive meeting, and Bea leaves the office with a satisfied smile on her face.
She walks down to the garage with Liz, and reminisces about her arrival. She'd been terrified of this cold, lifeless garage that made her believe she was stepping into a human trafficking scheme. She'd feared that she'd made the wrong choice, only to realize that she hadn't, when she'd met Maxine and had her first conversation with another woman.
She looks at the garage now. It's filled with hidden warmth and she can almost hear the sound of the thousands of women who have come and go over the years. She can almost hear the thud of the various suitcases being placed carefully on the ground, the cries from the frightened children, and the mothers' worried voices. She can also imagine the relief painting those walls on every departure day, and the hope that flies permanently in the air of this darkened jewel of the world.
"Good luck, Bea," Liz smiles when they're about to part.
Bea nods once.
Liz. That comforting voice in the night. The reasons she's alive now. The reason she's moving on.
She owes her too much to put it into words, but she tries her best to convey everything with a simple look.
When she turns around and the garage door closes behind her, she doesn't look back.
"Thank you, girls!" Bea screams to Franky and Bridget's silhouettes when all her boxes are finally inside her new apartment. She waits for them to disappear down the street before she closes the door. She locks it, more like a habit than anything else. It feels like she hasn't done this simple gesture in years.
She turns around and stares around at her new kingdom. The place is just as she'd expect it to be for someone who just moved in. It's mostly chaotic, with boxes piling up all around the living room, ready to be dispatched around the apartment, and Bea looks at this warzone with pride. It's her warzone.
In the past week, Bea's managed to find a few things on her own, calling every place she knew that sold furniture at a lower price. A new couch is placed neatly in the living room. A fridge is awaiting to be filled with delicious food in the kitchen. An oven is ready to cook the best meals. And in the master room down the hall, Bea knows she'll find a beautiful bed that was donated kindly by Wentworth. All that's missing is another bed for the smaller room, a television, and maybe a computer if she can afford it. Her laundry will need to be done at a shop down the street for now.
The place would look empty to any foreign eyes, but to her, it's brilliant. It's a sunny day outside, and the light fills the room like it's been blessed by the skies above.
With Allie standing in the middle of it all, with only a small backpack on her back, blonde hair shining brighter than the sun and blue eyes admiring everything they've accomplished, Bea feels absolutely complete.
"I'll put some boxes away," Allie smiles, heading for the bedroom. "You seem like you need some alone time."
She leaves without another word and Bea is left in the silence.
She doesn't say anything for a while, just look around, afraid that if she speaks, words are going to steal the magic out of this moment. It's hard to believe that if she walks a few steps, she'll reach her own bedroom, and that the couch she can throw herself on is theirs, and no one else's.
She hasn't asked yet if Allie would share her room. She wants to, she just doesn't want to think about what it means. It's one step to ask Allie to come live here, it's another one to ask her to share her bed.
The only time they slept next to each other was when Allie was kicking drugs out of her body. They had a reason, a very rational, solid reason. But if they sleep in the same bed now, they don't have a reason.
She sits on the couch and lays her head against its back. She listens to the sound of Allie opening boxes and emptying their contents around the apartment. It's the perfect symphony.
She can't quite grasp the idea that there will be no violence in this newfound home. No one is going to wait for her when she gets back from work, ordering her around and making her cook dinner even when she's so tired she can barely stand. These walls will never hear her screaming in fear for her life, never hear her pleading to be left alone. These doors will never be slammed against her face. These windows will never be covered with curtains with sole purpose of hiding her battered self from the rest of the world.
Nothing feels stranger and better than this moment.
She loses track of time until an exhausted Allie joins her on the couch.
"You're making me do all the work, is that why you wanted me to move in?" Allie asks with an amused voice. "You're so cruel."
Bea shrugs.
"You can leave if you want," she mocks the blonde. "The door's right there. Lock it on your way out. And then just leave the key there."
"Fine, I know the way out," Allie stands up, pretending to be offended. "I'll give you a minute before you regret it."
She winks playfully when she really does leave, closing harshly the door in a fake attempt at being angry.
Bea hears the way the door lock and nervously looks around, wondering if it is really a joke. A minute passes and Allie doesn't come back, and Bea's heart is nervously beating faster and faster. She's about to get up and chase after the girl when she glances down at the empty space left by Allie and frowns at a small package wrapped in brown paper.
She has no idea how she's managed not to notice it until now. Clearly, she's spent too much time in her head lately. She looks at it. She can't remember packing anything like that. She can't recognize it either.
She takes it slowly in her hands, sliding her fingers gently on the paper. She can guess by the way it feels that it is a book. She turns the package around. She carefully tears the paper apart and her eyes widen in disbelief when she realizes what she's holding.
It's a drawing book. A beautiful, shiny, perfect drawing book, filled with blank pages ready to welcome Bea's talents. It isn't like the ones she'd had before. It's smaller, and thinner, but it's just the perfect size to capture anything she'd want.
She used to believe that holding a drawing book would make her feel sad, but she knows now that she was wrong.
It takes her breath away.
"Do you like it?"
Bea jumps ten feet in the air at the sound of Allie's voice. She's been so busy admiring the object that she hadn't even heard the door opening again.
"I was listening through the door. I heard the paper. This place isn't soundproof," Allie adds. "We'll have to be really quiet, if you know what I mean."
She wiggles her brows and Bea laughs out loud, tasting the first real moment of happiness this apartment witnesses.
"See, that was too loud," Allie winks. "'We'll have to fix that."
She walks quickly to Bea and presses a kiss on her lips. She smiles when she feels Bea shaking against her and pulls back.
Bea laughs louder, unable to keep the joy inside of her, and the sound is so perfect that Allie wishes she could take a picture of it to immortalize it in the greatest museums of the world.
"I love it," Bea whispers, looking at Allie like she's just given her the moon.
I love …
Allie nods, happy with herself. She'd had to do another woman's chores for a week at her shelter in exchange for this small piece of happiness, but it was worth it.
"Are you going to use it?" she wonders, hoping that Bea won't forget about it in two days.
Bea will never forget about it. Her passion for arts crashes back into her like it had been a crime for it to leave in the first place.
"Sit!" Bea suddenly orders, eyes full of dreams. "I'll be right back. Wait here."
She rushes to her bedroom, where she knows she's left a few things back when Franky was helping them with the move.
She runs through her accessories, her old paintbrushes and her broken pens, and she finds a small eraser. She tries to find another pencil, but she can't find it, and she's growing impatient by the minute. She gives up, and just races back to Allie, who hasn't had time to understand anything. She takes a chair from the kitchen and she places it in front of the couch, facing Allie.
She sits on the chair and swallows anxiously, opening the drawing book to the first page. She glances at Allie with hopeful eyes.
"Do you mind?" she asks shyly.
Allie blinks.
"Me?"
"I wouldn't want to draw anything else," Bea confesses, ready to start at any signal.
"I- I don't know what to do."
Bea looks at Allie like she's made of gold.
"Just be you," she directs like she doesn't want Allie to pretend to be anyone else.
The next hour flies like a blur as Allie sits before Bea's studying stare.
She traces Allie's eyes first. She tries to do justice to the specks of sapphire she sees in the depth of her irises. She tries to steal a part of Allie's perpetual childish spark to add to her sketch. She adds shadow where she thinks she sees the relics of Allie's past constantly haunting her eyes. She erases way too many times, until Allie rolls her eyes at her and Bea finally accepts that she cannot capture perfection on a single piece of paper.
She draws Allie's nose after. She tries to represent the way it crinkles when the blonde laughs too hard, or the way it flares when Allie's prone to anger. Every line is carefully planned, and every curve is precisely measure to create an authentic version of Allie.
She smiles when she captures Allie's grin on paper. It feels like an impossible task, like she has to knock on heaven's door herself to ask the gods to help her with this divine responsibility. She doesn't simply want to draw an unknown pair of lips. She wants Allie. Allie's happiness and Allie's sadness, all at once. She wants those lips to look as kissable as they are in reality, and as fragile as they sometimes appear to be.
She makes her hair flows around her head in a beautiful motion that barely does justice to the real thing. She recreates Allie's cheeks out of thin air and she adds a few details to make this portrait just like she wants it to be.
Soon enough, she has a printed image of Allie in front of her.
It will never a fair representation of the beauty she sees in front of her, but it's okay, because Allie is here to stay, and Bea dreams of a world where she'll cover the walls with pictures of them.
Allie doesn't say a word while Bea completes the portrait. She just watches Bea falls in love with art again, and she thinks she has never seen someone more gorgeous in her life.
Bea looks at the finished work for a long time before she allows herself to show it to Allie.
"It's not as beautiful as you are," she whispers as she gets up and hands her piece to Allie.
Allie's breath catches in her throat.
Is this really how Bea sees her?
Happy and sad all at once, like she's a fraud. A trace of a melancholy that serves as fuel for the fire burning in her eyes. A wicked smile on her lips. Proud and ashamed at the same time. Perfect, but flawed. Human, but immortal. Broken, but still unbreakable. Completely in love with the person she's looking at, and unable to hide it.
"You have no idea what you just gave me," Bea adds quietly. "It's more than I could have ever asked for. It's more than I deserve."
Is this really how Bea sees her?
A woman who just wants to be loved, who just wants to find a place to call home, who just wants to get her happy ending after everything she's been through. A warrior and a healer, and a small child, all stuck in a grown woman's body?
"Can I kiss you?" Allie murmurs, standing up to face Bea.
A small nod from Bea is all Allie needs and she leans closer, capturing Bea's lips with her own as she leaves the drawing on the nearest card box.
It starts slow, like it always does, like Allie is afraid Bea will break like porcelain in her arms, but it quickly deepens when Bea's fingers start running through Allie's hair and pull her closer. Their lips separate for half a second when they need oxygen, but as soon as their lungs are filled with air again, they reconnect, finding each other instantly, tongues gently fighting for dominance.
Kissing Allie is something Bea could do for the rest of her life. She thinks she feels Allie's body press harder against her, and she groans when she is pushed down on the couch harshly. If it had been anyone else, she would have stopped everything, but she feels safe with Allie, and really, she never wants this moment to stop.
She feels Allie straddling her and rolling her hips onto hers in a way that drives her insane, all while keeping their lips together. Bea thinks she might pass out from the rush of emotions she's feeling, until she feels Allie's hands circle her gently, keeping her safe from the storm of hormones in her brain.
She melts into Allie's touch and sinks in the couch, keeping Allie closer than they have ever been. The kiss slows, and their breaths mix together when they come up for air again. Allie places delicate small pecks on her lips, and Bea loves every single of one of them.
Bea opens her eyes only to find darkened blue ones looking right back at her, and before she realizes what is happening, Allie is kissing her again, starving for the way Bea tastes. Their chests press together and Allie slides one of her hand under Bea's shirt, and Bea shivers from anticipation when she feels Allie reach closer to her breasts.
She pants audibly when Allie's lips travel down her neck and suck on her pulse point, keeping Bea pinned on the couch. She bites her own lip when Allie's hand brushes the side of her breast over her bra. She buries her face into Allie's hair as the blonde keeps losing herself in the spur of the moment, keeps exploring the land she's given.
Bea thinks she's ready when Allie's hand crosses behind her bra, caressing her breast gently. She thinks she's ready when Allie keeps kissing her neck devilishly. She thinks she's ready when she feels her core aching and reacting to the way Allie ravages her with a delicacy that she isn't used to.
It's soft, and compassionate, and impossibly fragile.
A familiar kind of panic reaches her consciousness, and she breaks them apart, eyes filled with arousal and horror.
"Sorry," Allie breathes out heavily, immediately putting space between them. "I- I'm sorry."
"It's – it's fine," Bea stutters.
She doesn't want to stop either. Gosh, she wishes she could get a grip on herself and have Allie right here on that couch. She wishes she could do this, and love it, and not be afraid for once in her life.
She doesn't to go too fast because she's scared of what might happen, of what might change between the two of them, but what if she's never ready? What if Allie doesn't want to wait anymore?
What if they have sex and then… it isn't what Allie expects from her?
What if Allie doesn't want her anymore when she realizes that sex with her is - ?
"I'll sleep on the couch tonight."
"You don't have to," Bea says so quickly that she doesn't quite believe herself either.
Allie eyes her up and down, reading Bea's body language. The way her hands fiddle together. The way her eyes try to stay on Allie's, only to glance away at every stolen occasion. The way her lips are slightly parted, as if Bea wasn't sure whether she wanted to speak or remain quiet for the rest of her life. The way she shakes, even when she tries not to. The way she tries to convince Allie that she's fine when she's not really, authentically fine.
"You want your space."
Bea doesn't answer, torn between mixed ideas tearing her brain apart.
"I'll be right there if you need me," Allie smiles and kisses Bea's forehead in the softest way.
"Are you sure?"
Allie sits next to Bea and pulls her close in her arms.
"I'm more than sure."
Bea's trembling soul is still getting used to being treated with such patience, and it takes a few minutes before she can finally relax in Allie's arms.
She's been trying to fall asleep for half an hour before she hears a creak on the floor. She falls from the couch and quickly gets up, hyperaware of her surroundings. Years of living in the streets taught her how to wake up at the speed of light, and she's ready to fight whoever is trespassing. She looks around the living room, adrenaline being pumped in her veins.
It's Bea.
Bea is looking at her with amused eyes and a small teasing smirk.
"What?" Allie whispers, afraid that Bea somehow needs her help now. She's ready to kick anyone's ass, real or not. "What do you need?"
"Come sleep with me," Bea replies just as quietly.
Allie frowns. Even in the dark, she can see Bea's shaking arms.
"Are you sure?"
"I want to hold you."
"You do?" Allie asks again, hesitantly.
No one has ever said that before.
No one has ever asked to just hold her.
Holding her was never a part of her job, never a part of her life.
Sharing a bed with someone never meant falling asleep while holding each other.
But that's what Bea is asking from her, and Allie thinks this is the most beautiful request she's ever had.
"I want to – " Bea repeats gently.
Allie doesn't let her finish her sentence. She walks with Bea to the bedroom.
When they fall asleep, Allie thinks that no other person has ever cared for her the way Bea does.
When she receives the call in the middle of the night, she's forgotten about the time difference. She's forgotten that, on the other side of the world, it's the middle of the day and everyone is wide awake. Her blurry mind doesn't even let her remember that her daughter is living on the other side. Her first thought is that whoever's calling her must want to die for waking her up at this goddamn hour.
Her second thought is that it is a mistake. She thinks that whoever is calling her must be asking for a different Bea Smith, about a different Debbie Smith. She thinks that they're mistaking her for someone she's not, that surely, they'll apologize for making her heart stop the way it did when she heard the news.
But there's no apologies, and when she sits up in her bed, so fast that her vision turns dark for a few seconds, she realizes there's no manager to complain to about a terrible mistake made by a shitty employee. There's no Australian accent to reassure her that this is a bad prank made my reckless teenager.
Instead, there's just a voice, a cold and distant voice laced with pity, that tells her over and over how sorry they are, and how quickly she should come here because they don't think Debbie will make it through the night. They throw stupid fancy medical terms at her, tell her Debbie's in a medically induced coma, carve a new kind of pain on her skin, and the voice fades in the back of her head.
An overdose.
A stupid heroin overdose is stealing her daughter's life, and Bea can't move, can't cry, can't scream because she's miles away, and she's helpless, and for fuck's sake, this cannot be happening to her right now. Not her, not her beautiful daughter who used to be scared of vaccines for so many years that Bea had to promise her a lifetime of cotton candy when she was a kid.
She can only grip her phone so hard that she thinks she might break it into a million pieces. She wouldn't mind if it exploded right now in her hand. Maybe the burns could wake her up from this nightmare. Maybe the sharp pain would make her feel something else than this growing sorrow in the deepest parts of her body.
Maybe it'll be over when she opens her eyes.
She thinks she tears her vocal chords when she finally drops the phone and falls to the floor of her bedroom, screaming like someone's torturing her alive. Her agonizing chant echo on the walls, and she can barely hear the sound of Allie falling to the floor, startled by the sudden alarm.
When Allie gets up, alerted and ready to kill, all Bea sees is her shadow.
In the moment, in the panic and the terror, Bea thinks it can only belong to one person. This shadow must belong to a man, a well-known man, taller than she is, stronger than she is. A devil who has escaped hell. A devil she once lived with.
"Don't touch me!" she yells, higher than the skies above.
She yells because even though he doesn't listen, doesn't care about her most of the time, a rare once in a while, he lets her be, and she prays that today in one of those days.
She puts distance between them and she yells some more, and then she suddenly stops when she feels that the end of the world has passed.
She looks up and sees a silhouette with hair made with flecks of gold, and with eyes glittering with gut-wrenching worries.
She just breaks.
She thinks that there's nothing scarier than this moment, this raw moment when she doesn't know whether her daughter will make it our alive or not. It doesn't matter how many times she was sequestered in her room, how many times she starved herself or how many times she was nearly beaten to death, nothing had prepared her for this moment, for this paralyzing fear.
Her daughter isn't supposed to be a coma. It isn't the plan. It isn't how things should be. Her daughter should live a long and happy and successful life, and she should make meaningful memories with people that are going to share this same happiness. She isn't supposed to be stuck in an hospital, fighting for her life because of a vile injection.
Bea screams harder when she realizes that she can't go, that she can't run to hug her daughter and whisper in her ear that it'll be fine because her daughter is on another continent, and she has no money to fly there. She doesn't own a private plane or even a small boat to cross the ocean. The planet is conspiring against her and she's never despised this place more than she does right now.
And it's her fucking fault because she sent Debbie over there in the first place.
And she thinks that her messed up heart is betraying her because hours ago, she was having the time of her life, and now, she's in Dante's ninth circle of hell.
"BEA!"
Allie's shout is louder than the loudest sound, and Bea hates it. Hates how Allie always win, always brings her back to Earth. Hates how she can never stay friend with madness when Allie's around.
Drowning in madness is so much easier than facing reality, because reality is ruthless and cruel and all kinds of fucking terrifying.
"What's happening?" Allie asks, softer this time, kneeling next to Bea.
Bea doesn't answer.
There's an emptiness in her eyes that wasn't there a second ago, and Allie wants nothing more than to kiss this woman back to life.
But she recognizes this emotion. It isn't something that can be fix with a kiss, with a promise of love or with a magical contract from the skies.
"I need money," Bea croaks in a raspy voice.
She doesn't care how the money is obtained, or where it comes from, or what awful debt she'll face later, she just needs it.
She needs to fly away from here.
Bea refuses to close her eyes for as long as she can, afraid that the next time she opens them, it'll be to look at a world where her daughter doesn't exist anymore.
She finally passes out from exhaustion a couple hours ago, eyes red and cheeks tattooed with the traces of her tears.
Allie makes a phone call when Bea stops eventually stops moving in her sleep.
She hasn't asked Bea why she suddenly needed money. She hasn't forced the words out of Bea's mouth. She hasn't asked who this stranger on the phone was. She hasn't even touched Bea, because Bea's made it very clear that she couldn't deal with any physical contact right.
Bea hadn't said anything at all, and Allie had accepted it.
She'd simply watched with vigilant eyes as Bea had fallen on the bed again, exhausted from crying her body's weight in tears. She doesn't need to ask more from the redhead. She trusts Bea with her life, and if Bea says she needs money, then Allie will win steal the bank right here and right now.
She knows many people who would tell her that she's doing way too much for this woman, that her feelings are blinding her and making her do stupid, impulsive things, but it doesn't stop her. She cares about Bea, and she wants the best for her, and if the world wants to judge her for having feelings and helping her significant other, then it's not her problem.
She has no idea where to start, so she calls the only person she knows she can trust to listen.
"What the fuck?" a sleepy voice answers grumpily.
"Franky?"
"You better be dying."
Allie sighs and stays quiet, and the conversation grows colder. She hears the sound of bedsheets being moved around and she imagines Franky sitting up on the mattress. For half of a second, she thinks that Franky might hang up on her.
"You aren't dying, right?" Franky asks gently.
Allie almost says yes because the way it feels to see Bea so lost and desperate must be what it feels like to die. She must be dying with Bea.
"I need money. Not me, Bea does," Allie states, speaking as quietly as she can so she doesn't wake up her fallen angel.
She can almost hear the wheels turning in Franky's head.
"How much?" the brunette's voice resonates from afar.
"As much as you can loan us. I don't - I don't know the reason, but you should have seen her…" Allie swallows difficultly like her throat is full of stones. "You know I wouldn't asking if I had another choice."
She waits for an answer, keeping her eyes to Bea's figure. If she didn't know better, she'd think that Bea is having the most peaceful sleep of her life. But she knows, she knows that underneath those closed lids and soft exhales, there's a destructive pain waiting to make its appearance as soon as Bea emerges from the night.
"I don't have much, but I'll see what I can do," Franky sighs. "I'll call Maxie and Booms too. We all have some money saved up somewhere."
"I'll pay you back as soon as I can," Allie promises, determined to work harder to find a job as soon as the sun's up. She'll do any kind of shit job she can land if that is what she needs to do.
"It's fine," Franky chuckles on the phone. "Bea would do the same thing for me. I can wait for things to settle. You really don't know what's going on?"
Allie has an idea. Not many things make Bea react this way.
She glances at Bea, seeking the familiar way her chest grows as she breathes. She's afraid Bea might stop breathing right here and now.
"I didn't ask her," she says. "But it's not just a small problem this time, it's bigger, much bigger than I imagine. She was – she just fell apart in front of me. I couldn't recognize her for a moment. All she told me was that she needed money."
"And you just listened to her? What if she's deep involved in a drugs ring or an illegal market?" Franky chuckles, trying to make light of the heaviest situation while she remembers how much money she has put aside in her bank account the previous months.
"Then I'll get her out of there," Allie replies, voice strong and unwavering, not encouraging Franky's amused tone.
"What if she's paying a murderer to kill Harry?"
"I'm happy to help," Allie rolls her eyes, not having one ounce of compassion for the man.
"What if she's the murderer and she needs money to buy a gun?" Franky pushes further, half serious, half intrigued
"I'll kill so she doesn't have to," Allie shrugs, never looking away from Bea.
Right. So maybe, she is blinded by her feelings.
So what?
"What if she ends up in jail?" Franky adds with a curious voice, dropping her act. There's a hunch she wants to confirm, and she'll drill Allie to get the answers.
"Then I'll get her out of there too," Allie fires back. "I'll dig a hole with a damn plastic spoon if I need to! I'll plan some epic gesture to get her out of there. I'll charm the guards or become governor, or steal a judge's place! I'll do anything for her."
She doesn't realize what she's said until the words are out, and she hears them out loud.
"You're in love with her."
It's not a question. It's a fact. Franky's words hit the target right in its middle, and Allie nods on the phone, forgetting that no one's there to look at her. But Franky, from her dark bedroom a few blocks away, sees her as if they were right next to each other.
"Your silence tells me everything," Franky says.
Allie still keeps her mouth shut. If anyone is going to hear those words from her, it's going to be Bea, and no one else.
"It's fine. You don't need my permission or anything," Franky says with irony. "I'll call the others and let you know what happens."
"Thank you."
"Thank you, for looking after Red. She's lucky to have you."
Allie waits for the signal that Franky is no longer on the phone to exhale loudly.
She wishes there was more she could do.
Bea moves in her sleep and Allie rushes to her side, half-wishing she was a superhero and could teleport them wherever Bea needs to be.
Two days later, Franky, Maxine and Boomer arrives at Bea's apartment, unannounced.
Bea is screaming on the phone and Allie is frantically trying to calm her down, but nothing works. The nurse on the phone is stumbling on her words, trying to reassure Bea that the fact that her daughter still hasn't woken up doesn't mean she never will.
It takes a full hour of screaming before Franky can finally throw the stack of bills at Bea. She shrugs when Bea's eyes grow the size of plates and assures her that it's no big deal, that she can pay them back when she can.
It takes another hour for Bea to confess to her friends what has happened and why she needs the money so badly. They listen, and Bea cries, and by the end of the conversation, everyone's emotions mix together to create a beautiful mess.
It still takes a few minutes for Bea to accept the money, guilt eating her alive and love flooding around her. It's enough for her to buy a ticket back and forth, but it isn't enough for Allie to come with her. She doesn't mention it, afraid she'll sound ungrateful, but she wonders what a few days spent away from the blonde will be like. She can't remember her life before Allie.
It takes a few seconds only for her to call a few flights companies and buy a place on the next flight heading for the foreign country. It leaves in five hours, and she thinks she might die of a heart attack before she even reaches the plane.
It takes her forever to say goodbye to her friends, but when they finally leave, Allie is still there by her side to help her pack a few things. Bea doesn't even need to open her mouth to ask, Allie reads her mind.
"I'll wait for you to come back."
Bea nods and thinks of something.
She doesn't ask.
They pack in silence, trying to delay the departure without wasting too much time.
It's only a few minutes later, right before they leave Bea's apartment to go to the airport that Bea breaks down and finally asks Allie the one question that has been haunting her for the past hours.
"Did she suffer?" Bea asks like she's terrified to know the answer. She doesn't know what she'll do if she learns that Debbie suffered. She thinks she might die right now on the spot before she ever leaves her home. She thinks she might not survive the truth.
Allie shakes her head negatively. Exhaustion is invading her body and she tries to walk a straight line to the taxi.
"It doesn't hurt," she quietly replies, covering Bea with a blanket of reassurance. "It feels like you're in heaven."
She pauses for a second, letting the words find a home in Bea's heart before she continues.
"She probably didn't realize that she was dying until they revived her," she breathes out in the empty air. "When it happened to me, it felt like I was falling asleep and I – I forgot to breathe and my heart forgot to beat, and I never realized it until someone told me that I was at the hospital."
Bea lets out a strangled sob that disappears in the few centimeters that separate her from Allie.
"She'll be fine," Allie finishes with a strong voice. "You can't give up on her."
"I thought it was enough," Bea aches everywhere and she doesn't know how to make it stop. "I thought I was enough. Me, and the love I had for her. I thought it would be enough to stop her, to keep her away from this shit!"
"Bea…"
But Bea isn't listening anymore.
Why isn't love enough?
Why is it not enough to cure, to heal, to save a life when it matters most? Why can't it stop her from falling apart? Why can't it erase the past? Why can't it fix her, and Allie, and everyone she cares about? Why can't it remove the hurt in Debbie's head?
Why the fuck is it not enough when it is supposed to be this magical, most powerful thing in the world?
The pressure is growing in her heart, and she doesn't think it'll hold for long before it explodes and splatters itself on the walls around her. The pain is stabbing her in the head and the sadness is overwhelming, forcing her to bury her head in the palms of her hands. She struggles to breathe and every gush of air that enters her lungs feels like vitriol burning her insides.
She fights to keep the tears in, but she can't, and they escape, and roll on her cheeks with more freedom than she thinks she'll ever have. She's chained to the ground and every step she takes asks a tremendous effort of her, and gravity is trying to crush her to dust.
The past is yelling at her that she didn't listen to the blaring alarms.
The present is laughing at her brokenness.
The future is staring at her with emotionless eyes.
"She can't die," she murmurs when Allie wraps the warmest arms around her body. "She just can't."
The weight of her regrets keeps her down.
"Don't take anything when I'm not there," she suddenly says, nails digging into Allie's arms a bit too hard. "Promise me."
"Bea, you know I won't do that," Allie answers in confusion. "I'll never do that. I'll call you every day."
"Say the words!" Bea nearly shouts. "Promise! Promise me or I'll - "
She lets out a frustrated scream as the words start disappearing from her mind.
She won't be able to leave if Allie doesn't make her that one promise.
She needs to hear those words more than anything else.
If doesn't hear those words, she'll spend everyday thinking that Allie will be waiting for her to come back from a hospital bed too. She can't live like this. She won't survive. She can't spend every minute of everyday worrying that Allie will relapse or that her daughter will die from a drug overdose or that every moment of happiness will be followed by a time of pure destruction.
Sometimes, she really fucking hates her life.
All she needs to do is trust Allie, so why can't she do it? After everything they've been through, after everything they've shared, why can't she trust her fully even now?
She knows that Allie won't take this shit anymore, so why does she need her to promise her so badly?
Bea thinks her brain must be broken.
"I promise you I will never take another drug again," Allie replies slowly, detaching every word carefully so Bea knows how much she means it.
Bea searches in Allie's eyes for a sign that those words are just an illusion.
She nearly collapses again when Allie doesn't blink, doesn't flinch, just lets her search relentlessly until she's satisfied.
"Thank you."
Bea licks her lips, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself.
"I – I know you're not using anymore. I'm sorry," she breathes out, feeling like everything she does is making things worse. The last thing she needs to do is to accuse Allie again, to make it personal when it's not. "I don't know why I needed you to say that."
"You're scared," Allie gently replies as Bea leans her head on her shoulder. "And it's okay."
They stare at the road stretching forward as the taxi drives them to the airport.
When they go their separate ways at the airport, Bea holds Allie like she's afraid she's never going to see her again.
"I need you to know that..." Bea bites her lips nervously. "I'm so so grateful that you're alive."
Allie thinks those words carry the elixir of life itself.
"You'll come back," Allie promises. "And I'll be there."
She pauses and whispers in Bea's ear.
"I want you to hold me again. I want us to fall asleep together again. I love it."
I love you.
Bea nods once, holding back her tears.
"I love it too."
I love you too.
Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for sharing this story and hopefully I'll post next chapter soon enough!