I took all this love I found (and I hope that it's enough)

by bouj525

Bea Smith escapes the house she's trapped in and finds herself staying at a shelter for victims of domestic violence. When she can't sleep, she wanders outside in the middle of the night and sits on a bench. When Allie Novak joins her, Bea thinks that the dark of the night has never been so bright.

16. So close to home

Title comes from "So close to magic" by Aquilo.

Thank you all for reading and commenting.

Enjoy this chapter, which is hopefully more on the bright side. It picks up directly where the previous one ended.

---

Chapter 16 : So close to home

Bea wakes up a few minutes after Allie has gone back to sleep.

The sun is slowly rising in the horizon and she looks at the time quickly. She groans when she realizes that she needs to leave soon. She wants nothing more than to stay and enjoy the comfort of her bed, but she can't.

She wishes she could stay long enough to memorize this moment, to really appreciate the fact that she's back and that Allie, gorgeous Allie, is sleeping next to her, in the safety of their home. She wishes she could live in this quiet morning for years. She'd reacquaint with the delicateness of Allie's embrace, and the fragility of Allie's kisses.

They could make time stop with the intensity of their stares, if they were just given the opportunity.

They could shake the core of the world with the waves created by their embrace, if they were just given the chance.

They could do everything, be everything.

Tomorrow, maybe. Hopefully.

She's been away for too long now. It's a miracle that she's met people kind enough to be understanding of her situation. She doesn't want to owe them any more than she already does. She already feels like she's indebted to them for years now, and she still needs to swallow her pride and beg for Doreen to pay her in advance just so she can afford her rent.

She'll be risking her job if she does that, but she'll be gambling with her apartment if she doesn't. She doesn't want to go back to the shelter, and she doesn't want Allie to go back either. They can only move forward, that is the only road she's willing to walk on.

She gets up as slowly as possible, and leaves the bed as quietly as she can, even becoming a statue when Allie moves in her sleep.

Allie, whose words from yesterday are still tumbling all over Bea's mind.

I love you.

A white flag in a war.

And this is exactly what bothers her.

This white flag wouldn't have existed if there hadn't been a war to start with. This white flag would have remained hidden somewhere else, somewhere she wouldn't even have known existed. This white flag wouldn't be occupying her mind like it is right now. This white flag probably wouldn't have been a white flag to begin with.

It would have been a breathtaking declaration at a time of peace and serenity, not something so heartbreaking.

Did Allie even mean those words? Did she truly want to say them? Did they mean what they were meant to, or were they just spit out quickly, without a second thought for what they really stood for? Did she say them because she meant them, or did she just say them to prevent the escalation of the conflict?

Did she feel them as intensely as Bea did when she received them?

What if Allie wanted to say something else instead, and couldn't think of something, and just said I love you without considering it?

What if Allie were to take back those words today? Or worse, what if Allie asked her to say them back?

She can't say them back. She isn't ready.

Her heartbeat increases dangerously as she imagines all the possible scenarios in which Allie would leave her if she doesn't say those words back. She shakes her head silently. Allie would never do that. Gosh. She's a mess and at this point, she doesn't even remember how to pronounce those cursed words.

Bea needs to know the answers to all these questions or she's going to be overwhelmed by madness before the end of the day.

But again, she can't stay.

She presses a trembling kiss on Allie's cheek before she escapes this room and its suffocating secrets.

She can ask her when she comes back.

She can wait until then.

She can. She can. She really can. She repeats it in her head like a mantra until she almost believes it.

She thinks she'll give herself a headache. She blames it on the jet lag and denies reality a little longer.

She walks to her daughter's bedroom and she opens the door as gently as she can. It doesn't make a sound, and she is graced by the vision of her daughter sleeping calmly in her bed. Relief hits her like a tidal wave.

Debbie is here now. They're back at the beginning, at the starting point of their story, but it's something, and it's better than any other beginning they've had before. Bea walks up to her daughter and tucks the covers neatly around her.

"My beautiful girl, you're safe now. I promise," she murmurs, taking a few seconds to capture a dozen pictures with her mind. She'll treasure them all day until she can come back here and take more shots.

She runs outside a few minutes later, ready to attack the day despite the anxiety slowly growing weeds around her heart.

---

She's married to anxiety when she arrives at the salon. She takes a few seconds to trim the vines wrapping her heart, just enough so it has space to beat again.

She walks inside the salon with a trillion thoughts in her mind, all of them related to Allie or Debbie. She really wants to pause them for the time being, but they seem to follow her wherever she goes. She blinks a few times, trying to get her sight focused on the chairs and the accessories that she'll need to be the great hairdresser that she knows she can be, but she can still see the outlines of Allie and Debbie's shadows around her.

She hopes they'll be fine.

"Bea Smith, is that really you? I knew you were supposed to come back today, but frankly I was beginning to think we'd never get to work with you."

Bea forces a smile on her face.

"Hi Doreen," she says. "I'm so so – "

Doreen pulls her in a tight embrace, interrupting the carefully prepared speech she was going to say.

Bea isn't sure how to react. She's never been physically affectionate with strangers and her immediate thought is that it is a trap, that Doreen probably wants to fire her right now. But Doreen just keeps smiling at her like she's genuinely happy to see her, and Bea's stomach flips in her belly.

Is this how people are in real life? People who haven't gone through the same shit she went through? People who don't associate physical touches with violence?

"Don't you dare apologize. How's your girl?" Doreen asks without any trace of anger in her eyes.

Bea's mouth hangs open for a ridiculously long amount of time before she finally figures out how to speak again. She'd expected to be yelled at, to be fired on the spot, to be told that she was irresponsible and never to be trusted again.

She hadn't expected Doreen to show so much compassion. Doreen doesn't work at a shelter. Doreen isn't trained to help her, isn't obliged to show her kindness, but she still does, and Bea still has the hardest time letting her guard down.

She awkwardly takes a step back, placing more space between them. There, she thinks. Now, this is an acceptable distance.

"She's back home with us," she smiles. "She's okay for now."

The last words taste like a lie. Her daughter probably isn't okay, but it's better to pretend that she is so she doesn't have to start that conversation with someone she barely knows. And maybe she can fool herself for the length of the day, get rid of all the distractions in her head so she can focus on her job and avoid accidently making someone bald.

"Well, if you need anything, let me know. I have a son. I don't know what I'd do if he were in the hospital. I'd lose it."

Bea nods slowly. She hadn't told Doreen the details of Debbie's hospitalization, but she had shared enough to justify her absence here for a few weeks.

"I still don't know what to do," she chuckles embarrassingly. "I don't think any of us do. But she's back with me and I think it's better now."

"I'm so happy to hear that, Bea. I really am," Doreen replies with a ginormous smile that makes Bea momentarily believe that Doreen cares. "I was so worried for you."

Bea hums in appreciation.

"I just need to work," Bea says, not wanting to ask for money right now. She can only imagine how horrible it would sound. "Get my mind off the problems, you know? I'm very grateful that you've kept my place."

Words don't begin to express how grateful she is.

"Don't worry about that, it's fine, of course. And this is your station," Doreen gestures to a chair on the left side. "Everything you need, you'll find there. If you see something missing or if you need extras, you can go in the back. We have everything stored there. We're expecting tons of customers today, so you'll help if we can't keep up with our schedule. Is that alright with you? At the end of the day, we'll meet so we can sign your contract if you still want to stay after."

"That would be nice," Bea accepts. "Do I just wait for someone to direct a client to me?"

"Yes. For this morning at least, until we can have a better idea of how you work. Eventually, you'll get your own regulars."

"That's fair," Bea agrees.

"You had a salon before, didn't you? Allie told me, I hope it isn't indiscreet."

Flashes of her old salon cross Bea's mind like incomplete scenes from an old movie.

Huge mirrors covering the walls and modern lights hanging from the ceiling. Colorful shelves full of accessories. A few seats for the waiting customers, surrounded by piles of all kinds of newspapers and magazines. Smiling people walking in and out. Regulars with whom she talked about her day and shared the most ridiculous anecdotes. Strangers who came knocking at her door, asking about her prices and then deciding to stay because she always knew the best music to play to lure everyone in. The perpetual smell of shampoo and conditioner, and all kind of crazy products people used to create masterpieces with their heads.

"I did. It's been a while."

"If any of your old customers want to come here, they are welcome," Doreen specifies. "Now I'll let you get ready. We open in ten."

She makes sure Bea is comfortable before she leaves her alone.

Bea stays immobile a few more seconds. Doreen is nice. Doreen could become a friend, one that she wouldn't lose because of a controlling husband.

She takes a few minutes to visually learn where everything is and then she takes a deep breath.

This is it.

This is the moment when everything starts again, when the foundations of a solid life are built again, when her entire existence becomes normal again. This is when she dives back in the action and starts climbing the ladder back to the successful person she once was.

She dodges every negative thought that tries to break her calm composure. She's had enough of thinking that she's not good enough, not capable enough. She doesn't want to let those beliefs in her life anymore because every time she does, it only wears her down, only makes everything worse.

She'll make it through the day, she thinks, she'll thrive and make some customers happy, and she'll hopefully find a way to pay for her rent before the end of the day.

The door opens, the customers walk in, the show begins, and Bea is more ready than she's ever been.

---

She's nowhere near ready to face the day.

Waking up to an empty bed after spending the entire night cuddling to her favorite person must be the absolute worst feeling in the entire world, she decides.

She hasn't even opened her eyes yet and she's already grumpy because she feels the absence of her significant other. She pats the sheets blindly, somehow clinging to the tiniest part of her that believes that, maybe, Bea is still sleeping next to her. But she only touches air and it makes her want to sleep until Bea shows up again.

Happiness strangely shows up more often when Bea is around, she thinks.

She pouts when she opens her eyes and, indeed, faces a lifeless, empty side. This bed doesn't feel so inviting now that it only offers her a sad sight. She wishes she never has to see it again. Tomorrow, she'll wake up with Bea, she decides.

She inhales deeply and feels her heart doing a few jumps when she remembers that Bea will be back tonight.

Bea will be back and they will fall asleep together again tonight, and tomorrow, and maybe every night for the rest of their lives. Allie wears a stupidly wide grin on her face when she reluctantly gets up and exits the room. The thought of Bea is enough to make her float to the kitchen like it's giving her superpowers.

She takes out a few pieces of bread to toast and pours herself a glass of water. She sits on a chair and lets the silence envelops her for a while. She sips a little of the cold liquid and it wakes her up a bit more.

She's not tired anymore. She already knows what she wants to do today. Her routine has been the same every day ever since she started waiting for Bea. Try to find a job, go to her daily meeting with a certain teenager, stop by at a few places for free food, and give a daily call to Franky.

Today, she can't do that, as she has another responsibility now. It's an important one that deserves all her attention, and it's about another human being.

She glances at the closed door of Debbie's room. She doesn't hear any sound and she wonders if the young woman is still sleeping. Part of her hopes so. She doesn't particularly feel like making awkward conversations with someone who could send her to jail in a heartbeat.

She knows about the garage, Debbie had told her.

Which means that Debbie knows it was her, too. She knows too much. She could send her behind bars and get rid of her, ifs he wanted. And Allie's not enough of a fool to believe that she has a particularly strong bond with Bea's daughter. There's no attachment, nothing to reassure her that Debbie won't try to kick her out of the apartment.

Allie gets increasingly nervous the longer she watches the door. She blinks and flinches at the sound of the toasts jumping out of the machine. She clears her throat and gets up. She takes a few steps toward Debbie's room.

She's a grown ass woman, she tells herself. She has nothing to be afraid of, especially not Bea's daughter.

So what if the only person she wants approval from doesn't like her? So what if Debbie Smith, whose life will forever be intertwined with hers from now on, doesn't accept her? So what if her girlfriend's daughter tells her she doesn't want her in the family?

It'll be fine, right?

She knocks on the door lightly and gets no answer. She shoots a look at the clock and makes a decision.

"Rise and shine, it's nearly noon," she nearly sings, slamming the door open and making Debbie jumps in her bed from the noise.

Debbie looks like she's been shocked back to life.

"What's happening?" she blurts out quickly, blinking the fatigue away.

"Come eat breakfast. You don't want to spend the entire day sleeping."

"I'm not hungry."

"You'll keep me company then! I don't want to eat alone, it's boring. And you can't stay in bed all day either, it's even more tragic," Allie pronounces with an overly invested tone, like Debbie is her last chance to win her fight against boredom.

"Would you rather I go out and get gear?" Debbie snaps back, harsher than she means to.

"You're not a morning person either, I see," Allie replies, unbothered. "Just like your mom. Can't believe I didn't see it coming."

"Sorry," Debbie quickly replies, already feeling the need to pop a pill in her mouth now that she's awake. "I didn't mean to attack you." The hospital might have cured her from her overdose, it hadn't been able to make her psychological addiction away. She feels different without her drugs, and she doesn't like it. "I don't want to get up, leave me alone, please?"

"No way. You're not spending your first day back stuck here."

"I'm jet lagged and I'm tired, and I really don't want to socialize. Where's mom?"

She feels like getting out of bed would take so much energy that she would fall unconscious as soon as her feet would touch the floor. The covers weight a million tons and there's chains tying her to the bedpost. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to get up.

Unless she had heroin.

She's fucked.

"At work. And you'll get used to our time much faster if you get up now. And Bea made me promise I'd look after you, so it's not up for discussion. She would kill me if I didn't take care of you."

Debbie answers by pulling the covers above her head, but Allie won't have any of this. She was an annoying asshole while she was hooked on drugs and trying to get off them, and she's more than equipped to deal with Debbie.

"You will not do this to me," Allie declares, pulling back the covers and dragging Debbie out of the bed until the young woman is standing up. "You've gone to uni. You had to wake up before the sun was up. You had to study all night and survive on coffee, I presume. You can get your ass out of bed."

Debbie moans like she's in pain, but she stands up and nods hesitantly.

Now that she's up, her mind is no longer able to tame the storm of malicious thoughts.

Drugs. Drugs. Drugs.

"Come on then," Allie encourages her. "Breakfast's served."

Allie walks back to the kitchen, soon followed by Debbie.

Allie eats in silence, carefully tiptoeing around Debbie. There's so much tension that she momentarily believes that she's a monster and that Debbie fears her like death. She tries not to look at Debbie too often, but she ends up staring at the ceiling and the awkwardness just keeps increasing until she is one with it.

"Look," she blurts out suddenly, unable to support this any longer, "I know you don't know me much, and you're probably not happy with having to share a place with us after living on your own, but it's only temporary if you get your shit together."

Debbie nods, poking holes in her bread with her knife. She wears a lost expression on her face, like she doesn't remember how to act like a proper human being. She looks like a small child locked in an adult body, and Allie finds herself wanting to protect her despite everything.

"Who are you even?" Debbie asks with a small voice.

"Allie Novak," Allie laughs.

"Who are you really?"

"I'm your mom's most passionate lover," she grins harder, wiggling her eyebrows and throwing all subtleties out of the window in the hopes that it will cut the tension.

"Ew?! Why?!" Debbie replies with a look of disgust in her face as she tries to survive the sudden attack of unpleasant images in her mind. "You didn't have to say that!"

"You asked for it," Allie winks. "I'm Allie. I make suspicious jokes, and I'm probably the last person you want to speak with right now, and frankly I'm not so sure I want to be around your grouchy behavior either… But we're stuck together all day, so you better accept it now."

Debbie shrugs, still looking at the blonde with a concerned look in her eyes, like she isn't sure whether to let her guard down or not. She looks down at her food for a while. There's no doubt her mother would want her to get along with Allie, but there's this feeling in her chest that she can't quite ignore. A protective feeling.

Allie may look innocent and nice and full of good intentions, but what if she turns out to be a terrible person too? What if she's another Harry in disguise, praying on the vulnerable and waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

Debbie might be exhausted and brainwashed by the idea of drugs, but she's still incapable of forgetting the madness she's witnessed too many times.

And sure, she's asked Allie about it before, but people change, feelings change, the truth gets spoiled and everything can become pretty awful, so being paranoid a little really can't hurt.

"Are you happy to be back here?" Allie asks gently.

"I don't know," Debbie replies slowly, like she fears Allie's reaction.

"You'd rather still be over there?" Allie asks curiously, trying to keep her tone light.

"I don't know."

"You'd rather still be in a coma?" Allie insists, half serious.

"I don't know! Maybe. So what?"

"What do you want from us?" Allie asks, as nicely as she can, a nagging feeling in her chest at the taunting maybe.

Healthy people don't wish they were in a coma, she thinks.

"I don't – "

Allie rolls her eyes to the sky, slightly irritated.

This day is setting up to be the longest one of her life.

"Well, what do you know then?" she interrupts Debbie's usual tone.

"Nothing!" Debbie claims loudly like it's obvious and Allie should be able to read her mind, like Allie should be able to see that giant grey cloud above her head that prevents her from knowing anything at all. "I don't know anything anymore! I was oversea for months and then I almost died."

She sighs deeply and takes the piece of bread in her hand. She looks at it from all the angles before she puts it back down.

"I thought coming back here, being home with mom - I thought it would help me figure out what to do. She's my mother, you know? She has all the answers to all the questions. She knows everything. I thought she could tell me what to do, but I'm - I'm not home anymore. It doesn't feel like it. Now, you're here and this place is new and nothing is the same."

"Don't you think it's a good thing, that nothing is the same?" Allie points out, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm happy for mom. I just can't help but feel like I don't have place here. I don't belong. I had a group in America. A terrible group, yes, but still, people didn't look at me like I was a complete failure. People just took me in. I know you may not understand, but I still want that feeling, that euphoria. Even if it almost cost me my life."

Allie nods silently, knowing that the simple admission must have taken an inhuman effort for Debbie. She gets it. She never really wanted to leave the streets until she did. She never really wanted to stop the drugs until she did.

She crosses her arms on her chest and looks at Debbie.

"Bea went to America for you. She stayed there. She brought you back. She supports you despite all the stupidities you believe in. How can you say she doesn't want you here? She does. So do I, believe it or not," Allie adds. She would much rather have Debbie here than the opposite.

Debbie frowns, suspicious. Her already bruised heart stops her from believing anything.

"Why are you talking to me like you care?"

"Because I do. Why are you insisting so hard that I don't care?" Allie fires back, not missing a single beat. "Do you want me to not care about you? Would that make you feel better? Would it make easier for you?"

Debbie stares at her for a long time, debating what to say and how to say it. She's somehow starting to see what her mother sees in this woman. She locks her stare into Allie's, challenging her quietly before she does it openly.

"You wanted to kill my dad," she states bleakly, eyes analyzing Allie's smallest reactions.

She can't imagine a world in which her father would not exist, but she can't imagine a world in which he would get his happy ending either. It's confusing and it makes her feel like she doesn't deserve to be alive either.

Allie stops moving for a moment. She could deny it, but Debbie knows, so it would only add fuel to the fire. She didn't expect Debbie to bring the subject right now, so early in the morning, but so late in their lives.

She doesn't know what to answer. Any misplaced word could be the end of everything. But if she remains quiet, this balance she's built might just be destroyed too.

"I didn't," Allie replies solemnly.

She doesn't want to direct this part of the conversation. She waits for Debbie to continue, to hint her on what is going to happen next.

"You expect me to believe that?" Debbie murmurs, leaning forward in a threatening way, her mouth twisted in anger. "I know what you did. Don't try to deny it."

Allie can't tell whether Debbie is happy or sad about this.

"You don't have all the details. I didn't want him to die. I wanted him to be afraid. Like Bea was, all of her life. I wanted him to feel like he wasn't in control, for once," Allie says with strong voice.

Debbie purses her lips. She's not nearly done with her food, but she might throw up if she eats a single crumb.

"And you didn't go through it," she asks like she's a police officer interrogating the main suspect of an investigation and she doesn't believe anything she's been told.

"I didn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Allie smirks, giving Debbie a taste of her own medicine. "I didn't want your mom to hate me, maybe? Relationships and all that, you know? I doubt she'd appreciate me being a murderer. It's dating 101, haven't you been told?" She adds with a playful tone.

Debbie blinks a few times, turning the strange answer in her head many times before she accepts it.

"Are you going to tell him?" Allie challenges. "Go back to your father?"

Debbie shakes her head, but it's weak and unconvincing.

It's still a crime.

"If you tell him," Allie warns, "you're condemning us. He'll find a way to turn this against your mom, so she'll go down too. It's not just me, you can't be naïve enough to believe that I'll be the only one affected."

Debbie listens, trying to find a flaw in Allie's words, but she can't, and it breaks her a little more than she already is.

"My parents kicked me out for being a lesbian. Your mother took you back in after you overdosed. The least you can do is be grateful for what you have. I didn't have that support. I didn't have a loving mother who would take me back, but you do. The least you can do is let her be happy. And too bad for you, I'm part of that too."

"I won't tell him," Debbie says with a trembling, hoarse voice.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

Debbie looks at her like she needs someone to tell her what to do.

Allie doesn't know how to communicate with someone who's a child and an adult at the same time.

"I'm tired," Debbie sighs, shifting her attention back on the walls around them, and between them.

It's an enormous wall, and Allie can't climb over it, can't walk around it, can't reach over and give Debbie a hand to bring her to the luminous side. She can't break through it. She can only stare at the bricks and feel Debbie's presence on the other side, and hope that Debbie won't be lured by the pretty sight of colorful substances.

Debbie needs to find her own way to join her before the wall falls apart and buries her under its heavy bricks.

"When is mom coming back?" Debbie asks like it's the most important question in the world right now.

It's instinctive. No matter what happen, even when she's older and supposedly wiser, her mother will always be the one person she'll turn to for help.

"You're stuck with me for a while, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"Then stop acting like one," Allie says, dropping an imaginary mic while whispering boom.

She thinks she sees a slight smile appear on Debbie's face, and she savors the small victory.

"Now come on, finish your food," Allie nudges Debbie's side with her elbow while pushing the plate closer to her.

"Still not a kid," Debbie stubbornly repeats like a child.

"Got it."

She glances at Debbie a few more times before her heart starts aching again.

Debbie doesn't eat anything for breakfast.

---

Debbie quickly glances behind her, wondering if Allie will follow her even inside the bathroom.

She said she was going to take a shower but the moment she locks the bathroom door, she crumbles to the floor and hides her face in her hands. She can hear the dishes making all kinds of clicking sounds as Allie washes them in the kitchen, and it just reminds her that she isn't alone, that she probably will never be trusted to stay alone again.

Where does she go from here?

The exhaustion is getting heavier and heavier, and she's wondering if she'll be able to wake up tomorrow.

The emptiness is growing larger and deeper, and it doesn't mater that she wants to feel something, anything. She can't.

The addiction is still plaguing her mind. It didn't disappear like she'd prayed for before she fell asleep last night

It got stronger. It got more threatening. It's taking more and more place in her heart as she sits still.

It's all new and she can't help but wonder if this is how she's meant to live from now on.

Will addiction become her best friend? Her lover? Her one and only true soulmate?

Was it always meant to be this way, from the very first second she came into this world?

She doesn't know anyone like her.

She doesn't know anyone who's lived in a dysfunctional family like hers. She can't compare herself, can't define normal anymore. Even in the United States, she couldn't. The group of friends she had came from privileged backgrounds, with its members snorting crack they'd bought with money given by their wealthy parents. They'd acted so happy, so free, that she'd instantly been pulled in. She'd instantly nestled herself in to Brayden's arms.

Her first love may have been based on lies, the heartbreak is too real to tolerate.

Everything was fake and she's left with one haunting question.

What do people like her do?

She thinks that maybe, they live alone because they can't get attached to anyone. She imagines they get high on independence and drunk on a fake belief that love is a luxury. She imagines they don't run to artificial paradises at the first sight of difficulty because they know that it could be so much worse.

And there she is, wanting to sleep for days and weeks and months and years, and maybe decades, if her body will let her.

She's a fucking failure, if someone asks.

"You okay?" Allie asks from the other side of the door. "I don't hear anything."

She's a fucking failure with a babysitter, she mentally corrects, even though a part of her appreciates the concern.

"I'm fine," she lies.

"You're really more and more like your mother, you know?" Allie replies right away, and Debbie swears she can heart the smile through the door.

She doesn't reply.

She lets her clothes fall to the floor and closes her eyes to dismiss the fact that she's sickly thin.

When the water hits her, she turns the temperature high until it's so hot that she can pretend it's her pain that is being set ablaze, and not her skin.

---

"I'm sorry, this is too hot."

Bea's bubble of thoughts explodes like a firework.

She fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds until the water reaches a lower temperature.

"Sorry about that," she apologizes to her client.

"It's fine," the woman smiles understandingly. There's a silver necklace around her neck and a ring around her finger, and everything is shining brightly like they were bought yesterday.

Bea washes the woman's head quickly before she moves on to the next step. The salon is bursting with life and casual chatters, and when she thinks she might have a break, she gets pulled right back in the hurricane. She feels the coins in her pocket. It's the first tips she's had in a while, and she makes a silent promise to herself not to let them go to waste.

She doesn't mind the hustle and the hard work. It takes her mind off more troubling thoughts, except when it doesn't. She's halfway through the day already and she's finding it harder to focus on her job. She loves the feel of the scissors in her hand, and the smiles of satisfaction she receives when she's done with a client. It reminds her that this is really something she loves doing, something she's missed for far too long.

Her memory of a dark night with razor blades dancing in her eyesight is long gone.

Her memory of a vibrant evening made perfect by a soft kiss dances in her mind. If she were to look down on her skin, she'd find no scars, no sign that she fell apart before.

She's clean now, and every day, she hopes that it remains this way.

This place, she thinks, is amazing. A goldmine for opportunities.

"What do you want today?" she asks, smiling professionally at her client.

As she listens to the answer, she nods and starts to plan the way to go. She takes the scissors in her hand, feels the metal, soft and cold, against her skin. She's been told too many times that scissors were dangerous when she was a child. Who would have thought that they'd be her weapon of choice today, and that she'd earn money for manipulating it with a calculated precision?

A small dot of dark ink disturbs the clean surface of her mind.

She wonders if this woman is as happy as she seems to be, if her marriage is as successful as it appears to be to a stranger's eyes. She wonders if she's having a good day, or if she's going home to a monster. She wonders if this woman would kill to save her life, would murder to save her daughter.

Her vision of the world is forever changed, and there's nothing she can do about it.

She starts to imagine those scissors slicing through a young man's throat, the same man who has stolen her daughter's sanity. She starts to imagine the blood she'd spill and the life she'd steal. He hurt my little girl, she'd tell herself, making up excuses to cover the fact that it's a criminal offense.

She takes a deep breath. She dismisses the thought, but for a moment, she's scared of herself, of her ability to hurt someone else, of her motivation to inflict pain to another human being, and she realizes this is the closest she'll ever come to understand what Allie has felt too.

She wonders if this feeling can be escaped.

She wonders if love is so intimately connected to hatred that this is inevitable.

She focuses her attention on the customer. Maybe this woman has a good life, a family who loves and cares for her, and a dozen projects she can't wait to work on. Maybe she has no idea that a dark side even exists.

Bea blinks and grounds herself back to where she is.

She won't ruin this. She's almost there, almost right where she wants to be.

She just has to take that jump, to trust once and for all that someone like her deserves happiness.

---

"Trust me, it'll be fun!" Allie's insistent voice resonates in the apartment as she gesticulates to the door.

"I don't want to go out with you," Debbie stubbornly wines, arms crossed against her chest while she leans against the doorway.

"Well, frankly, I only asked out of politeness, because you have no choice. Bea wants me to look after you, and I can't stay inside all day or I'll go mad. So you're coming whether you want it or not because if I go mad, you can be certain that your mother will too."

"You can't make me come with you!"

Allie throws an evil look at the younger woman.

"I can and I will. Now, are you going to walk or will I have to drag you out? Don't trust my looks, I have the strength to carry you. I lived in the streets for years, you got nothing on me," Allie replies.

Debbie jolts back at Allie's admission and growls in resignation.

"Fine. But I'm not talking to you."

"Fine."

Allie lets Debbie walks in front of her and mentally gives herself a high five. She's getting good at this, and the day is turning to be slightly less of a disaster than she had expected it to be. She locks the door and refrains from rolling her eyes again when she notices that Bea's daughter is several steps ahead of her, clearly not keen on waiting for her.

She skips a few steps and joins her within seconds. She doesn't lead the way. She walks at the same pace as Debbie's, not wanting to act like she's the one directing them. She glances at her a few times, but Debbie's mask is well in place, and nothing betrays what she is feeling. She directs her eyes to the blue sky. It's slightly colder today, and she's wearing a light jacket over her shirt, but Debbie seems to have no trouble wearing a t-shirt outside.

She doesn't really believe that Debbie will keep walking with her. She thinks that Debbie will run away or hide somewhere along the way. She thinks that Debbie will lie and tell her she's got somewhere to be. She thinks that Debbie will take this opportunity to punch her and then take advantage of this distraction to leave her careful guardian.

Amongst all of her nightmarish scenarios, one of them particularly makes her blood boil: she imagines Debbie escaping to Harry's place, and having to explain to Bea that she lost her for good.

"We're visiting a friend," Allie almost sings, pointing ahead. "We won't stay long, I just need to go today."

Next to her, Debbie just stares at the street like she's seeing something Allie doesn't. She's lost in her thoughts, getting a new taste of the city now that she can walk through its streets for the first time since she left Australia the second time. She recognizes a few places, even though the district is different from her old one, but it all feels strange, like she's just in a parallel universe where everything is the same, except for her.

Everyone is alive, and happy, and making plans and sharing ideas, and she feels like her brain is shutting down a bit more every day. Everyone is talking and laughing and even crying, and she hasn't cried since yesterday when she came back. Everyone seems to know everything, and she's just here, walking on automatic mode because it's the only thing she can do right now.

It's the only thing she can think of. It's the only action that makes sense to her, that won't send her flying six feet under. Left foot. Right foot. One, two, one, two. Maybe if she keeps focusing on her feet, it'll help her not focus on the bigger issues in her life. Yes. That must be the only way to do it, to avoid reality.

She looks up after a while, only to find Allie staring back at her with a worried look. They've arrived at an intersection she doesn't recognize, and when she looks around, she sees a couple of shops, a few people walking around, and a homeless teenager staring at them from a few meters down the road.

"You were lost for a moment," Allie whispers. "Are you okay?"

Debbie shrugs, like no matter what she answers, it won't be enough.

"Oh right, you're not talking. You'll be pleased to know that we'll meet someone who's also not talking so… fun times for me, I guess." Allie winks joyfully. "Come on."

Allie guides Debbie to the other girl, whose wary eyes are scanning the two women.

"Sorry I didn't come yesterday. You gave me permission though. I brought someone today, hope you don't mind," Allie declares as she sits next to the homeless girl like it's the most normal thing to do. She gestures for Debbie to do the same and waits patiently.

Debbie stares at her like she's lost her mind.

The teenager notices. Of course, she does, how could she not? She's seen those looks all her life.

She gets up and throws a disappointed look at Allie, like she can't believe Allie would bring someone else to their meetings.

And Allie doesn't blink, doesn't look away, doesn't flinch at all.

"She's harmless," Allie says detachedly, like she knew from the very start that this would happen. "She's my girlfriend's daughter. I'm babysitting today."

Debbie rolls her eyes and sits down, unimpressed, while the teenager stands still.

The girl's eyes go from Allie to Debbie, to Allie again.

She seems to think of the greatest problems in the world before she makes the choice to sit back. She quietly accepts that Debbie isn't here to try to drag her to a terrible foster home. She doesn't say anything, but she nods, like she always does to signal Allie that they can stay in this place that she calls her own.

"I just came to check on you today. We won't bother you for too long," Allie explains.

She knows the intrusion is probably the last thing the girl wants or needs, but she couldn't bear the idea of missing two days in a row. Somehow, she thinks it would have been worse to not show up than to bring Debbie with her. It is best to come and stay only a little, than to not show up and have the girl thinks she's forgotten about her, especially when they've been making progress.

It is much easier to break someone's trust than to earn it, and Allie doesn't need anyone to teach her this.

"How are you?"

The girl pokes her hat with her shoe.

A bad day. The hat's empty, and if it keeps going this way, she won't have access to any food for tonight, Allie understands immediately.

"Sucks to be you," Allie states dryly, well aware that it is the understatement of the year and that it might be wrong to say. She doesn't care. She knows the girl won't either.

And she's right, the girl nods once and doesn't say anything, and Debbie watches the exchange with intrigued eyes.

"What's new in the streets? Found a way out yet?" Allie asks with a teasing voice that's hiding a much bigger hope that the girl has somehow found an alternative lifestyle.

There's only silence as a reply, and Allie knows that she shouldn't push too much today, because Debbie's presence is new, and dangerous.

Anything new is dangerous in the streets.

"Have you thought about everything I told you last time?" Allie asks, before she turns to Debbie to whisper quickly. "I told her about my life story. Not a happy one. You haven't earned the right to know about it yet, but maybe someday."

Debbie opens her mouth to ask something, but Allie presses a finger to her lips, shutting down every noise that might have come out.

"This is a special moment for us," Allie whispers. "I'm afraid you're going to need to stay silent and observe."

Debbie sighs and is forced to agree. She wonders why she came here in the first place if she's just going to do nothing all day. She glances at the worn-out hat and the torn clothes on the teenager's body. She can see a lot from these clothes. She can see that the girl is poor and dirty, and that she can't afford new clothes. She can see that she is in need of a shower. She can see that she is struggling to go through her days.

She can see, but she cannot understand, so she stays silent.

She didn't expect Allie to have such a friendship with someone living in the streets, especially someone so young. Even though she doesn't quite feel it, she thinks her heart would ache at that situation.

"Are you going to seek help? You know, the help you don't need?" Allie pushes gently. "There's only so long you can depend on your hat. It's a nice hat, but it's not a meal or a bed."

Little steps.

Allie knows, from experience, that she can only do so much for the girl. She's not a professional, and she cannot find the perfect sentences that will change someone's like, but she's hoping that she can come close enough to make a small difference.

The first step is to plant a seed in the girl's head. Tell her that she might need help. And then, all Allie needs to do is to water the plant, and hope that it grows strong enough to move the girl's well-rooted, self destructive beliefs.

The girl sends her an annoyed look, as if she were to say I know, but no sound comes out.

Allie nods apprehensively.

"I know that you know. You know everything. We all do, after all."

Allie pauses the conversation for a minute, letting her joke make an impression.

"I wish I knew what to say to make you move away from this place," she then says softly, with a fragile tone colored with honesty. "What to say to make you realize that this can only go on for so long before you get sucked in terrible places. No one is spared when they live in the streets, that I know."

The girl clears her throat. She glances at Debbie like she doesn't trust her, and then she keeps her attention on Allie.

"No one cares so why should I," the teenager states with an empty voice. "Someone stole my money today. They walked by and grabbed it, and ran away."

The truth reaches within Allie's chest and squeezes her heart, and then it moves to Debbie's lungs and robs the air out of them. There is too much pain in those words, too much sorrow, and too much despair.

"I care," Allie boldly says. She knows it's not much, and she knows she's still a nameless stranger, but she imagines it is the best answer she can give under these circumstances.

The girl shakes her head lightly like she's not worthy of any reassurance, any affection at all. If her own parents didn't want her, who could ever? If her own family kicked her out, who could ever welcome her?

If who she loves matters so much to the world that she might be bullied, and tortured, and murdered for it, why should she keep doing it? Why should she stay that way? Why should she keep this identity of hers rather than creating a new one, one that won't get her kicked out, or bullied, or tortured, or murdered? Wouldn't it be easier to just pretend to be someone else?

It's unfair. It's so stupidly unfair that she wishes she could gather enough courage to go back to the place she no longer calls home, and scream at her parents. Yell at them. Force them to admit that they made a mistake, just so she can move on with her life because she's damn tired of being here.

She's tired of everything and she wishes she could shut down her feelings.

Today so far has just been another deception.

"You're angry. Maybe a little sad. Maybe you feel betrayed, too, and you're staying at that place because it's the only thing you still feel. You can't feel happiness, so instead, you feel anger, and sadness, and pain, because those are the only emotions keeping you from becoming a machine."

The teenager doesn't respond and Allie keeps talking, keeps analyzing and crossing boundaries that she isn't sure she should. She's walking into enemy territory, and she prays that she won't be hit by a bullet.

"Be angry."

The girl closes her eyes like the sun is personally attacking her with its brightest sunrays and its promises of a better tomorrow.

"Be fucking furious about this, it's your right."

And then, like a magical revelation, Allie finds the right thing to say, retrieves it from a long lost memory that she never wants to forget.

A hazy night with a woman, a stranger who paid her to have sex. A few abandoned bills on the floor while they'd pushed each other on a cheap motel room bed. Clothes flying around them, and kisses that turned into bites, which turned into bruises on pale skins. And then, in the mist of it all, an embrace, a caress, and the softest look she'd ever received.

The only client who treated her like she wasn't a prostitute.

The only person who ever treated her like a human being while she was working.

At dawn, she'd woken up to a piece of paper with two words on it, and she'd never seen that woman again.

Be brave.

"Be brave," she repeats to the girl, finding inspiration in those scarred eyes. "You already are, you know? I'm not telling you to be someone you're not. I'm just saying, stay like this. Stay brave. Don't lose that ability to feel. To feel sadness and pain, and heartbreak. Don't lose that. It's what makes you human. It's what makes you real."

The girl blinks, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't, because Debbie is here, and she doesn't know Debbie.

"Be brave enough to allow yourself to feel all of this. And one day, you'll find yourself feeling joy, and bliss, and love."

Allie pauses, thinking of the right way to convert her thoughts into words.

She doubts herself for a moment and wants to take back those words. Bravery, is it really what this is about? Maybe not. But for the lack of a better term, she'll use it, and hopes that her message reaches through.

She's too aware that Debbie is listening and that this might affect her too, and she doesn't want to mess up. An immense pressure lands on her shoulder, and crushing expectations fall around her like nuclear bombs.

"Be brave and, when you're ready, find someone to be brave with you."

The girl looks at her like it's all beautiful lies.

And then she looks at her like she might just choose to believe them.

---

"Be brave, really?" Debbie asks with an incredulity. "So if she doesn't do anything, she's not brave? If she stays there, she's weak? If she doesn't feel anything, she's not brave?" She asks, feeling personally attacked by that statement.

Because she doesn't feel much nowadays.

Allie turns to looks at her.

"No. I told her, she's already brave. She just needs a reminder, don't you think? Emptiness is a feeling. Everyone feels, even when they think they don't. Everyone is brave, even when they're convinced, they're not."

They are walking back to the apartment and Debbie's confusion never leaves her.

"Why do you do this?" Debbie frowns, kicking a few rocks out of her way. "You don't know her and you just – what, go there and talk to her? Isn't it dangerous? What if she tries something?"

Allie laughs loudly, so loud that someone walking on the other side of the street looks at them.

"Well, Debbie Smith, are you worried about me?"

Debbie doesn't say anything.

She says everything at the same time.

"I do it because I want to help her like I wish someone would have helped me back when I was in the streets. I just want her to have a fair chance, you know?"

Debbie listens attentively. She doesn't ask anything. She imagines Allie will tell her more eventually, if she wants to.

"And I do it because I know she's listening," Allie adds. "It's much harder to help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

Debbie hears those words echo in her mind long after they are said.

"You need the right timing, the right words, the right tone and emotions. It's harder than you think," Allie explains. "I don't know why she hasn't punched me in the face yet, maybe she knows she couldn't rob anything off me, but who knows… No matter the reason, she's listening to me. Even if she hates what I say, even if she disagrees, she's listening. It's all that matters."

Debbie thinks about the conversation for the entire walk home.

She thinks about it so much that she almost walks into a tree and gets hit by a car, and Allie has a field day trying to keep her alive.

She thinks about it when they walk back inside and the door closes behind them, keeping the outside world out of their reach once again.

She thinks about it when she's about to go to her room and lock the door. She thinks about it while she's thinking of a nap she would never wake up from. She thinks about it while she's dreaming of a universe where heartbreaks wouldn't exist.

She thinks about it when she turns to Allie slowly and looks at her with vulnerable eyes that come from a place of honesty and hope.

"The world is horrible, but there are good people out there," Debbie breathes softly. "You are one of them."

The words travel through the air like the sweetest melody to have been played today.

Allie thinks that she's rarely heard something more daunting in her life.

---

Debbie gets a call from her father in the late afternoon, only a few minutes after they come back from the outside, terrifying world.

It isn't surprising. He's been trying to contact her for a while now. He probably doesn't have a clue that she's awake, that she's back in the country. Back in the hospital, she hadn't answered his calls because her mother was always in the room with her. It had been easy, she could just turn off the ringtone or pretend like it was someone she didn't want to talk to.

But now, there's no one to stop her. Allie is in the living room, oblivious to this moment.

The ringtone is at its lowest volume, but it still feels loud enough to make her ears bleed. She could become deaf from the way it sounds, aggressive and ruthless, and manipulating in its own way, while still being beautifully enchanting. It sounds like Fate, giving her an ultimate call before it drifts away, before it finally, finally, accepts her decision.

She could answer.

She could answer and talk to her father, and offer him some sort of explanation. She could disclose the address, betray her mother's trust and safety, and go back to a life full of tempting lies. She could let herself be manipulated until her very last breath.

She could tell him everything, let the battle happen while she watches from the bleachers.

And the thought might have crossed her mind, before.

She might have thought about saving herself from a shitstorm of pain.

Before.

Before the overdose. Before the soul crushing realizations. Before the sight of Allie sitting on the sidewalk.

She sees the way Allie cares, for her mother, for the world itself, and all those in need. Objectively, she knows that Allie is a good person.

Subjectively, maybe this relationship will work. Maybe it won't. Maybe her mother truly has found her home again. Maybe it's only a temporary refuge that will burn down someday.

But she won't interfere, won't be responsible for her mother being broken again.

She watches her phone rings with emotionless eyes.

When it stops, she realizes she's been holding her breath and she gasps for air like she's born again.

She is born again.

---

Allie throws the piece of paper on the floor. She groans when she looks at the dozen other pieces of paper lying around her. If she wanted to save the environment, it's an epic fail. If anything, she just helped murdering a couple more trees. She sighs and takes a new sheet, determined to create something minimally decent this time, but a few minutes later, it falls down to join its friends.

It's not her fault this pencil cannot draw well even if her life depends on it. And it's not her fault the paper doesn't want to fold itself neatly to create the best origami shapes in the world. And it's not her fault if the words in her head won't magically appear in the form of an exquisite poem. And it's certainly not her fault if her last two braincells are useless at making any type of plan for a celebration for Bea.

Why is everyone in this damn world extremely talented except her? Everyone is either an artist or a chef, or a musician, or a poet, or an intellectual with the key to happiness, and she's just sitting here, mourning her creativity.

She wishes she could take a break but there's no time. Bea will be back home within a few hours, and there's only so much she can do without any money and a half-empty apartment. She tries to brainstorm a couple of ideas, but nothing works, nothing seems good enough, and everything she thinks of is nowhere near what Bea deserves.

Bea deserves so much that Allie thinks she will never be able to find anything good enough.

She throws her pen away in frustration, somehow cursing Bea's existence for her own inability to find the perfect idea. It knocks on Debbie's door by accident, like a bullet with a missed target. It falls with a small thud and Debbie pokes her head out of her room, thinking Allie knocked for the umpteenth time to ask her if she's fine.

"Who's dead?" Debbie deadpans, seeing Allie with a dejected look, the complete opposite of the way the blonde appeared a few moments earlier in the streets.

Allie doesn't answer and Debbie frowns, thinking that this has to be the strangest sight she's witnessed all day because Allie talks. A lot. It didn't take her long to realize that.

"What's wrong?" Debbie asks curiously. "And why did you decorate the floor with paper?"

"Oh piss off," Allie replies jokingly with a trace of smile on her face. "I'm trying to find an idea for your mother."

Debbie takes a step outside of her room and then stops, unsure whether she really wants to know what is happening or not. This could either be really sweet, or it could scar her for the rest of her life, and she isn't sure she wants to find out which option it turns out to be. She decides to sit on the couch, at equal distance between Allie and her room, just in case she needs to escape.

"What kind of idea?"

Allie waits a few seconds, not quite believing that Debbie Smith is willingly making conversation with her.

"A date idea," Allie admits, making the bold move of joining Debbie on the couch. "Do you have one?" It feels strange to ask Debbie about it, and she thinks the younger woman might leave right this second, but to her surprise, she only receives another curious glance.

"A date idea?" Debbie repeats, mildly shocked.

It's like she's hearing that word for the first time.

Date? For her mother?

Her father never took her mother on dates. He never spent his time in the living room, planning a date and wasting too much paper because he never could find the right idea. He never asked her what she thought her mother would like. He never looked so angry because he couldn't find a date idea. Generally, he was angry for many other things that were much less romantic.

She looks at Allie like she's seeing her with a new set of eyes.

"I just want to do something nice for her now that she's back and that she's got a job. We were tired last night so we fell asleep really quickly, and well, she left way too early for work so we didn't have time to – "

"Do not say another word," Debbie warns, voice tensed and arms raised in front of her.

"To talk!" Allie pronounces loudly. "Who's gross now?!"

Debbie waves her hands around her like she's trying to forget everything for a while because she takes a deep breath and turns to Allie again.

"I know what you could do," she answers slowly. "It might sound a bit weird, but I have an idea."

"Really? You'll help me?" Allie nearly shouts excitedly like she's just won the lottery.

Her eyes are shining like a thousand sunrays reflecting on the calm surface of the ocean and her grin could dazzle the blinds. She claps her hands together like a small child and Debbie cannot believe this woman ever tried to attack her father.

"Relax, you're going to have a heart attack before mom gets here, and then what am I supposed to do?!" Debbie shouts, waving her hands in front of Allie's face. "Hey mom, I killed your girlfriend?"

Allie beams at the mention of girlfriend because it's a start. A small, impossible start.

"Ha! Didn't think you'd know how to make a joke," Allie snickers.

"Whatever."

"Sure, whatever."

Allie's shoulder bumps Debbie's in complicity while Debbie tells her the greatest plan.

She might just get used to Bea's daughter presence after all.

---

She could get used to Allie's presence.

Allie isn't the most terrible person in the world anymore. She's not a bomb waiting to go off and destroy everything her mother has worked for. She's not a betrayal waiting to pierce her mother's heart. She's not a creature of darkness ready to poison her mother's soul.

Allie might just be the ball of freaking sunshine she appears to be, and Debbie doesn't know how someone like this can exist in such a cruel world. People like Allie should be the stars of life itself.

Debbie wonders how she can exist in this world and be happy too, like Allie is.

She wonders how she can feel genuinely alive without the help of all the intoxicating substances that are a few dollars away from her. She doesn't think it's possible, and maybe that's the problem. She needs to believe it's possible.

But how?

Life without drugs was her mother being beaten by her father.

Life without drugs was her hiding in the closet and wrapping a scarf around her head to block the sounds of the dishes crashing on the walls.

Life without drugs was a succession of wounds so deep that she's still bleeding out, years later.

How does she believe that she can be happy again?

How does she believe that she can get her life back like her mother did?

The sun is long gone from the sky when she finally finds the answer.

---

Bea comes back home exhausted, pockets heavy with tips from customers. She feels a familiar ache in her body, the one that proves she had a productive day. She wouldn't mind feeling it every day.

She was hoping to find solace in Allie's arms, but the only presence that welcomes her is darkness.

The kitchen is drenched in the absence of light, the living room is no better, and so is the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her bedroom door is closed, and there's no sound, no shadows, no sign of life.

Bea glances around confusedly. The living room is empty, and the door leading to Debbie's room is closed. A light white shadow at the bottom is the only confirmation Bea has that there is someone on the other side of that door.

"Allie?" she calls out, stepping closer to her daughter's room.

She stopped by Erica's apartment before coming back, strictly to pay rent, but the woman insisted that she stayed for a talk, and now she's regretting it. She would hate if Allie went to sleep already because the last thing she wants is to live at work and neglect her relationship.

"Deb?"

The door slams open and Bea jumps back, adrenaline flowing inside her veins like the powerful drug it is. She feels like she's in an action movie and she's about to fight the villain for the first time.

Except it's not the villain that appears in front of her, it's the woman who has stolen her heart.

"Bea? You're home!" Allie smiles widely, hands nervously brushing her golden hair while she pushes the door to close it behind her. "I missed you!"

She races to Bea and pulls her in a tight hug, breathing in her familiar scent. She smiles when she feels Bea stepping a bit closer. She closes her eyes, taking her time to appreciate the way Bea feels against her. The proximity erases the longing ache she's felt all day, and she doesn't quite know how she made it to tonight.

They've only spent a few hours apart, but Allie feels like she's barely survived it all.

But it doesn't matter anymore, because they're back together, and they have hours before Bea needs to leave again.

If this is how it will be for the rest of her life, Allie won't complain. She'll get to jump in Bea's arms everyday. She'll get to love her everyday.

"Are you okay?" Bea asks gently, pleasantly surprised at the sudden embrace, but still remembering that Allie came out from Debbie's room. "Did Debbie give you a speech?"

Bea feels her entire body buzzing when she senses Allie giggling against her. This is what joy feels like, she thinks, and happiness is born from that simple gesture, that simple feeling.

The butterflies in her stomach turns to elephants stomping all over her insides, and she momentarily feels dizzy with this powerful feeling. For a second, she doesn't think she'll need food or water, or anything else to survive. Just this feeling.

"No way, I wouldn't let her," Allie grins with the same elephants in her stomach. "I was just checking if she was alright."

"Were you really?" Bea wonders, gazing at Allie's eyes worryingly, reminding the blonde that lies shall never have a place in their life again.

"Yes, I was. And I was talking to her. We got along fine today, you know?"

Bea leans towards Allie to steal a chaste kiss.

"Did you?" she grins in complicity. "Really?"

"Yeah," Allie simply replies, swooning at the natural way Bea pressed her lips to hers. She smiles innocently. "I swear."

Bea nods carefully, doubt creeping up in her heart.

"How is she?"

"She's adjusting. I think it might take a while, but the Allie charm is working on her too."

Bea chuckles at Allie's confidence. Others might find it annoying, but it's what she loves most about the blonde. Confidence. A superpower that grants anyone access to the top of the world.

"Now come with me, we're going out," Allie declares, tugging her hand in hers. "I discovered a park today."

"It's late," Bea frowns. "You really want to go out?"

"Please?" Allie pleads.

Bea knows right now that she will never be able to say no to Allie's best pleading voice. But there is Debbie now, and their nocturnal escapades no longer feel safe.

Bea points to Debbie's room and Allie's face falls for a second, like she had forgotten about this obvious situation. It doesn't last.

"Come to the bedroom then. I have something for you," she smirks suggestively.

It makes Bea nervous for a moment, before she notices the mocking shade in Allie's eyes. She playfully hits Allie's shoulder, feelings of relief and disappointment fighting in her mind. She doesn't mind thinking about what could happen. She minds the actions, the fulfilment of these thoughts.

But that is a problem for later, she thinks while her feet have a mind of their own and she follows Allie in the hallway.

They race each other to the bedroom, and when Bea opens the door, the hurt in her feet disappears, her sore back suddenly lessens, and the beginning of a headache vanishes as well. All that remains are the awe and excitement over the scene that presents itself to her, and she feels like she might start squealing like she's back to childhood.

Drapes and sheets, and blankets, all dancing across the room, are hovering above her head.

Gravity is being challenged by the strange shapes of the moving roof that seems to be floating in the air without any attachment to the ground.

A dimmed light is coming from an unknown source. It illuminates this strange set up and adds a magical touch to the atmosphere.

There are more blankets on the floor and the mattress is waiting for them to lie on it and forget the rest of the world.

The whole scene would make no sense to a serious eye. It would look like a mess to people who have left their youth behind, like a childish game that adults shouldn't participate in anymore. It would appear to be a waste of time, a useless hobby.

But to Bea, it looks like a well-crafted dream, something that comes directly from an old reality and a land of imagination.

It's not longer an ordinary bedroom. It's a majestic blanket fort rising from the ground to protect her from the evils of this world.

She turns to Allie like she can't quite believe the sight. She sees the blonde looking back at her with insecurities living in her blue eyes.

"It's a blanket fort. Debbie told me that you would like it. It's for us. I - I wanted to do something for you," Allie stammers shyly, losing her composure when she talks about it because the idea suddenly seems terrible. "I wanted to celebrate, Bea. You're back."

"But why?" Bea breathes out. "It's beautiful."

She walks inside the room, closely followed by Allie. The door shuts behind them, forever trapping them in a reverie. She reaches out for the highest sheet with a trembling hand. The material is soft, like velvet. Softer than the ones she knows she owns. She wonders where they come from because she doesn't remember buying them, and she certainly doesn't remember having so many of them.

Every step she takes brings her farther from the apartment and closer to the fantasy.

Every breath she takes reminds her that she is alive and that she isn't making this all up in her head.

Every time a sheet brushes against the top of her head, she feels the urge to sit down and pretends like this is her very own castle in the sky.

"You have a job. You have an apartment. You have your daughter. You have me. But mostly, you have you," Allie enumerates. "You may think you don't have your life back yet, but you do. And I'm so proud of you, so happy for you. And we didn't get to celebrate last night, so I'm asking that we do tonight with some quality time. And I swear I don't mean this in a dirty way," she adds quickly.

Allie sits down and waits for Bea to do the same. She watches Bea with loving eyes while Bea takes in their surroundings once again.

Allie spent nearly an hour building this, with Debbie's help. Or rather, she spent an hour listening to Debbie's incessant instructions on how to make everything perfect and then she got frustrated, and just put a sheet on her head and pretended to be a ghost for a while. Regardless, without Debbie, she wouldn't have been able to make this look nearly as good as it does right now.

Debbie even bought extra sheets, with her own money from her savings account, and Allie had felt so bad that she'd told her she'd pay her back as soon as possible.

"I can't believe it. You didn't have to do this," Bea says, sitting right next to Allie and immediately leaning into her arms. This is where she wants to be for now on and forevermore.

"It's not much," Allie dismisses. "I wanted to. And Debbie helped."

Bea's smile widens.

"She did? Of course, she did," Bea says pensively before something crosses her mind. "But I didn't do anything special. I just did what I needed to do."

"It's a lot," Allie praises, "you may not see it this way because you were on survival mode, but you achieved so much. When I met you, do you have any idea what you looked like? You were so lost, it broke my heart even if I didn't know you. And I had the urge to go to that bench to see what was happening. And now… I've only known you for a couple months, and I can't wait to see what you will do in years, how far you will go."

"I still have to convince Ha – "

"No!" Allie screams, momentarily making Allie deaf. "No mention of you-know-who in this place. This is for us, and only us."

Bea nods in agreement. This is for them.

This is for their present and their future.

This is to laugh at their past like it means nothing.

"Why did you want to go outside so badly if this was all here?"

Allie rests her head on Bea's shoulder and she doesn't answer immediately. She lets them find solace in their private shrine.

Blanket forts make everything better, she thinks.

Every word that is shared under their roof holds more meaning. Every promise becomes unbreakable. Every secret strengthens their relationship. Even time has no choice but to respect their boundaries. Time cannot enter these places, cannot dictate their actions anymore.

"I just wanted you to see the park," Allie shrugs. "We have a thing with those."

"Then make me see it," Bea challenges playfully.

She has a small arrogant grin on her face and Allie's eyes are filled with wickedness when she leans down and kisses Bea's temple lightly. She presses a few more kisses all over her face until Bea is laughing freely in her arms again.

Allie could stay this way all night. Sleep doesn't exist for reacquainting lovers.

"Imagine a park that's smaller than the one where we met," she narrates close to Bea's ear, enough to make goosebumps appear on Bea's arms. "It doesn't have as many trees, but there's a small hill that's still high enough to see a landscape of the district. And there's a small bench that's half broken, but that still seems strong enough to support anyone sitting on it. There's one streetlamp to light up this space. And there's a small blue slide for children to enjoy."

Bea closes her eyes while her imagination follows Allie's guidance. She has no trouble picturing the place in her mind. Allie's voice is like a symphony she never wants to stop listening to.

"There are birds singing despite the late hours. The trees are the colors of chocolate and mint twirling together, and the grass looks like it was placed there just yesterday because it's shining so much under the moonlight. The air smells like late summer nights spent falling in love with a stranger. The soil beneath your feet is soft, softer than concrete, and it reminds you of how a cloud would feel if you were to step on it."

Allie feels Bea's heartbeat quickens and it brings a caring smile in her face.

"And we are in the middle of it all, watching the stars even though it's hard. And then I give up and I decide to look into your eyes instead, because that's where the brightest dots are."

Bea rolls her eyes playfully at Allie's tentative to woo her.

"You had it until the end," she chuckles. "And then you ruined it, you fool."

"I just wanted you to see the park," Allie repeats lightly, like it's obvious, and like she didn't become a poet for a moment. "And me. Always look at me."

"Everything started at a park," Bea recalls fondly. "It's only logical that our new beginning does too. Thank you."

"We'll go back one day," Allie swears.

Bea smiles like she knows they will. It is inevitable.

"I missed you," Allie says out of the blue. "I don't know how I did while you were oversea. It's all a blur."

"Me too," Bea sighs. "I'm just happy to be home."

"Can we pretend this never happened?" Allie wonders.

Can they pretend so many things never happened? Can they pretend they were never apart? Can they pretend they were never suffering? Can they pretend they were never hopeless?

"There are parts I want to remember," Bea points out. "How you showed me you cared during our calls or how you always supported me, and wished for Debbie to wake up."

Allie hums quietly and positions herself more comfortably to steal another kiss. Bea's lips are full against her own and the sweet taste makes her wonder if Bea's eaten something recently. It doesn't matter. It only makes it all better.

"I care so much about you," she murmurs, lips brushing against Bea's and tickling them until they curve up.

She deepens the kiss and loses herself in the way Bea feels against her lips. It clouds her mind and makes her believe that if anything were to happen right now, she'd let it happen before she'd even think of putting a stop to the kiss. She feels an electrical shock travelling down her body and stopping right between her legs when Bea presses against her and makes them lay on the ground.

The universe explodes when Bea suddenly moves to straddle her.

It's so unexpected that she thinks she might pass out from the sudden heat wave that hits her. She refuses to, afraid that this would mean the contact would break. She feels one of Bea's hands moving from the back of her neck to her side, settling on the curve of her breast. It instantly frees a pleading moan from the back of her throat and she feels Bea's body shaking against hers in return.

She lets herself be dominated for a while, scared to make any harsh movement, afraid that she might rush things. Bea's body is pinning hers down. When Bea's breasts press deliciously against hers, Allie marvels at the way she would be ready to be taken right this second.

Bea takes her time to explore her mouth, creating choreographies with their tongues while they both fight to dismiss the need for air. Allie thinks she could die from the way Bea carefully opens her eyes when she moves back ever so slightly and looks at her with a conflicted look made of fear and desire.

Allie thinks she should slow down, stop this before it's too late, but her actions are impulsive and driven by lust. She reaches up and bites Bea's lower lip before she moves her head to the side, hot breath sliding on Bea's cheek for a second. She pulls Bea closer and nests her face in the crook of Bea's neck, only to find the softest inch of skin and start sucking on it.

She hears Bea's breath catches in her throat and she smiles, hands reaching for Bea's hips to make them roll against hers. She immediately regrets it when more shockwaves travel through her so many times that she thinks it might never stop.

In a second of clarity, she rests her hands on Bea's lower back instead, stopping the excruciating motion.

It's enough to make Bea realizes what is happening. She snaps out of her drunken state of mind and free her neck from Allie's greedy lips. She sits up on top of Allie and shakes her head so fast that Allie is afraid she might break it.

"Sorry," Bea pants, fear triumphing over desire. "Can we stop?"

"Of course. Sorry," Allie mirrors, softer. She delicately brushes a wild strand of red hair out of Bea's face. "Slow. We'll take it slow."

Bea nods, paralyzed for an instant before Allie gently pushes her next to her.

Allie might agree to take this slow, but there's no way she'll survive if Bea keeps straddling her and pressing her down.

"You could say I missed you a lot," Allie laughs, attempting to make the sudden awkwardness disappear.

Bea kisses her check and she links their hands together, not ready to let the physical contact be broken altogether. She's still coming to terms with being wanted by someone. It's completely new for her, and she still hasn't figured out the proper response.

"Does it bother you?" she asks shyly. "That I don't want to… That I'm not ready?"

She's playing with one of Allie's hand, not quite holding it, but never letting it go either, and Allie can only imagine how afraid she is. She brings both of their hands to her mouth and gently blows a kiss on their skin.

"Never," she swears.

Bea believes it. She never would have, before, but now, she does. She believes everything Allie says. It may be foolish, but maybe it's just trust.

Unconditional trust.

Something she never thought she'd be able to feel again.

She takes a second to breathe, to anchor herself back to this reality, and Allie does the same, quite unsuccessfully.

"I used to build a blanket fort for Debbie whenever things got too hard," Bea murmurs in secrecy, gifting another part of herself to the woman she loves most. She carefully avoids mentioning the details that Allie has no trouble imagining. "They were the only real protection we ever had. Our best memories. Debbie must have thought about this when she told you to do this."

"Little shit," Allie laughs. "She could have told me."

"That's my little girl," Bea grins. "She's sneaky like that." She pauses, melancholia taking over her soul again. This castle is making her go through all the spectrum of emotions. "You never knew her like I did."

Bea looks around, at the fort and its impenetrable walls. She's lost in her memories, in a time when Debbie would laugh at ridiculous jokes and have random conversations about the strangest subjects.

"One day, you will."

Allie squeezes her hand in return, as if to say that she hopes, too. She saw a glimpse of it today, but she also witnessed something much darker. She prays that it will all end well for Bea's daughter.

They stay in silence for a while, simply appreciating each other's presence. The fortress holds most of their insecurities outside, but some of them manages to creep in. It's terrible, the way they are so close to reach a peaceful, loving state of mind, but they still aren't quite there yet.

So close that they can almost feel it.

And then, the biggest insecurity breaks through.

Bea feels it before she even becomes aware of what it is. The morning flashes in her mind, and the thoughts she had forgotten during her busy day rush back to her conscience. She instantly sinks in deeper into Allie's embrace, seeking comfort from her.

She feels the words on the tip of her tongue but it takes her many minutes before she lets them out.

"When you told me… When you said you loved me, did you mean it?" Bea's voice almost breaks.

Every doubt is coming back to her and Allie hears what is unsaid, and understands what Bea doesn't want to say.

She strokes Bea's back absently, trying to bring her some reassurance in a delicate situation.

"I did," she promises. "I never would have said it otherwise."

"But we were fighting, weren't we?" Bea insists, almost desperately.

Allie wants to dig into Bea's brain and take away all of her fears.

She'd lose herself trying to find the cure to a broken past.

"I didn't say it because we were fighting. I mean, yes, I did, in a way. But even if we hadn't been fighting, I would have screamed it on the rooftops of the world," Allie breathes out heavily. "I didn't say it because I thought this was the only way to get your attention. I said it because…"

Allie watches every single star shining in Bea's eyes and she loves them all equally.

"I said it because, maybe, I'd kept those words a secret for too long and I couldn't stop them from coming out anymore. I couldn't stop myself because the feelings, they were too strong. They are still too strong, and I'm terrified of what it means, of where it will lead, but you taught me that being scared doesn't mean you should stop. So I said it. I'll say it again. I'll never stop saying it. Even if I'm scared for the rest of my life."

"What if I can never say it back?" Bea worries, heart on her sleeve ready to be broken at any second.

Allie won't let it be hurt.

"Then you don't say it. You don't need to say it, I know. Your feelings are your own, and you are free to put words on them or not. I'll just watch and listen, and feel. And… I love you, regardless of what you say. My feelings won't stop existing. They'll still be there."

There's a silence that lasts exactly the length of a skipped heartbeat.

"Do you mean that?"

Allie nods slowly.

"There's nothing else I want from you, Bea. You want proof?"

Bea doesn't have time to answer because Allie grabs her hand and pulls her up, making the protection they had above their head fall to the floor in a fluid and quiet movement. Allie keeps her close and makes her twirl until the room is made of blurred shapes, saved from the loving features on Allie's face. Their surroundings completely disappear when Allie pulls her in for a deep kiss that leaves Bea stunned and craving for more.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Allie repeats continuously, sometimes so loudly that the whole city can hear them, sometimes so quietly that these words are forever prisoner of their room. "I love you, I love you. I love you, Bea Smith."

I love you when you are an unstoppable force that will inevitably conquer the world.

I love you when you are so vulnerable that a single breeze could pulverize your heart to dust.

I love you even though I am still frightened that the charm will break and that you will realize I am not enough for you.

Allie doesn't want to make promises she can't keep, so she won't speak about forever's and eternities, but it's clear in her mind that these feelings aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

I love you today and tomorrow, and this statement will repeat itself tomorrow, and again, and again.

"You don't need a blanket fort to hide in anymore," she whispers, her nose brushing Bea's gently while she looks deep inside her eyes.

They make time stop with the intensity of their stares.

They create earthquakes powerful enough to reshape the Earth when they hold each other so close that space becomes an illusion.

They are alone, in the entire world, in the entire history of the universe.

They eventually start climbing on the mattress with their eyes barely open, clinging to each other like they won't be able to sleep unless they are close enough.

They fall asleep breathing each other in, feeling like they are still not close enough.

It feels like the concept of love was created only for them.

---

The next morning comes within minutes, too quickly for them to feel fully rested.

They roll together, limbs tangled with each other, and smiles competing to be the brightest while their eyes remain closed.

Allie leaves a trail of light kisses along the curve of Bea's cheek, and she grins wider when she swears she hears Bea purrs. She nuzzles closer to Bea, feeling home when she breathes in the familiar scent of Bea's skin and she nearly falls asleep again, but she knows times waits for no one.

She pushes herself up on her elbows and places a hand on Bea's lower back, where the hem of her shirt can't quite reach. Bea's skin is soft and warm, and incredible inviting. Allie wants nothing more than to explore all of it right now. She traces a few invisible lines before she impulsively places a kiss on Bea's naked skin.

Allie freezes for a moment, images and sounds running through her mind. She wonders what kinds of haunting sounds would come out of Bea's mouth if she kept kissing her, kept leaving permanent tattoos on her skin with her lips, eventually gathering the courage to go lower and lower. She wonders what kind of hypnotizing reactions she would have the privilege to remember if she just -

"Wake up," she mumbles, shoving away her wildest dreams. "You have work."

These words are so normal, so average, so domestic that Allie can barely believe that she's the one saying them. She's being part of the average, with a girlfriend, and an apartment, and the ugly need to wake her up at ungodly hours to go to work. She manages to sit on the bed and hovers over Bea. She places a few more pecks on the line of her jaw and whispers:

"Bea, move your lazy sexy ass."

"Piss off," Bea groans, her face buried in the fluffiest pillow. "We came back so late."

"Not a morning person, are you?" Allie asks, lightly shaking Bea until she can see her face. "There you are."

"Stop talking."

"Only when you wake up."

"I am awake."

"I'll be the judge of that," Allie replies, leaning down to steal another kiss, this time from Bea's forehead.

Bea opens her eyes just in time to see Allie looking down at her like she's looking at an angel.

"See, it wasn't that hard," Allie coos, thinking she wouldn't mind waking up like that every morning. "Good morning, beautiful."

Bea's sleepy smile might just steal the very last piece of Allie's heart that had remained untouched by Bea's magic.

"Beautiful girl," Bea answers, placing her hand behind Allie's neck and pulling her in until their lips connect in a gentle touch. "I'm the luckiest."

Allie smiles fondly thinking that Bea is insanely sweet, but she's wrong. She's the luckiest, not Bea.

"Now wake up, you'll be late."

"You're so bossy," Bea yawns and stretches slowly before she lets out a high-pitched yelp when she feels two hands pushing her out of the bed.

She hits the floor with a soft thud. It doesn't hurt, the bed isn't high at all, but it still takes her by surprise and shocks her.

"The boss needs you out of bed," Allie grins victoriously, looking down at her.

"Oh really?" Bea squints her eyes at her. She suddenly grabs Allie's shirt and pulls violently at it, dragging Allie down too.

The blonde yells like she's being murdered before she lands on top of Bea, who's laughing until there's tears in her eyes. It doesn't matter that Allie is now pinning her down on the hard floor. It doesn't matter that Allie is now on top of her and that her hand has somehow landed on her breast, and that her blue eyes are suddenly three shades darker.

Sure, it doesn't matter that Bea wants to get back up and press Allie against the wall and kiss her senseless before dragging her back to bed.

It doesn't matter.

"Come on, get up," Allie smirks, well aware of what Bea is thinking about. She stands a few inches away from Bea, like she's afraid that if she remains too close, she'll never be able to move back.

They walk in the living room, hands linked together with an invisible glue made of powerful feelings. They pretend to dance to an inaudible song, skipping and moving across the floor like two silhouettes intimately connected to one another.

They only separate so Allie can prepare breakfast while Bea sneaks on her daughter.

Allie nearly cuts her finger off when she hears Bea's voice yelling, urging her to come join her in the bedroom. She drops the knife she was using to cut some fruits and runs to the bedroom, half expecting to see a bloodbath, but she frowns when she sees something completely opposite.

The bed is neatly made, the floor is clean, the drawers are empty, and the air is suddenly so very cold.

This isn't someone's bedroom. This is a room. A room that doesn't have a personality, doesn't belong to anyone. It's just a few pieces of furniture put together in an effort to create a home for someone unknown.

Debbie is gone, and Bea is standing in the middle of the room with a small note in her hand. It's all that remains of her passage here, a small piece of paper with a few words scribbled on it.

Mom,

I need to find a place to call home, like you did with Allie.

I promise I will take care of myself.

I love you to the moon and back.

Debbie

It enrages Bea, but it doesn't hurt her as much as she thought it would. Somewhere in her heart, she'd always known that her daughter wouldn't stay.

Debbie left a note with a few sentences, a promise and the address of a well-known rehabilitation center.

It's where she's going, Bea has to trust it.

She has no choice but to trust it.

"She didn't even say goodbye," Bea whispers somberly. Just because she expected something like this to happen doesn't mean it hurts any less.

There's a weight crushing her heart. It will never be gone. It comes with the heavy duty of motherhood, and she's never running away from it again.

"I think she did," Allie murmurs, wrapping her arms around Bea's shaking figure.

Bea doesn't reply, just takes the note in her hand like it's going to cut through her skin and slit her wrists open, and let the blood stain the bedsheets.

"She helped me last night. She got everything ready. I couldn't have done it without her. She ordered the sheets, organized everything. She must have known."

Bea just sits on Debbie's bed.

She doesn't say anything. The lump in her throat grows larger by the minute and it threatens to suffocate her. Maybe there's no air around her anymore. Maybe she's in outerspace, floating without a suit and unconsciously watching her life being broken to pieces and being built back together in the same second.

"She'll be back, alright? She told you. She's getting help."

Bea nods, still clenching her fists in frustration.

"I could have helped her a bit longer."

Allie tightens her hold around Bea. She leans closer and presses her lips on Bea's cheek.

"You may be the strongest woman in the world, but she needs professional help, and you know it. You don't know… the way she was yesterday. It was her, and it wasn't her at the same time. She made the right choice. She did something good. You'll get her back."

Bea nods to the room, to the ghost of her daughter. Debbie wasn't quite herself, hadn't been for a while. And it hurts that she couldn't do anything. She couldn't quite find the right things to say, couldn't direct her daughter in the right direction, couldn't help her as much as she wishes she had.

But someone else can.

A professional. Someone who isn't Debbie's mother, who will never know Debbie as intimately as she does, but who will still be able to help her. She hates that, and she could not be more grateful at the same time.

"How many times do I have to lose her?" Bea sighs, leaning back into Allie's arms. "How many times do I have to wait for her to come back, and hope that she won't screw this up. She's an adult. I can't keep her in and stop her from leaving, but… what if she forgets the way back to us?"

She closes her eyes, trying to chase that image of that innocent little girl she once knew.

"Maybe this is the last time she leaves," Allie dreams out loud. "You have to believe that this is the last time."

Bea doesn't look so convinced. She lets herself be gently rocked by Allie.

"Give her a chance. I know it's hard to believe, but we had a good day yesterday. She'll come back, just for me," Allie grins.

"We need to work on your ego," Bea declares sarcastically as some of her sadness drifts away.

"Alright fine, she might come back to see you first, but we're on the road to become best friends. Someday. And think about it for a second! If she's anything like you, she'll come back here with a girlfriend, a new apartment and a new job. Don't you want that for her?"

Bea snorts and rolls her eyes. She turns to face Allie, a playful look in her face.

"How do you always know the right thing to say?"

Allie just shrugs and grins.

"I just do," she answers with a smug look on her face. "And that's why I'm perfect for you."