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.

17. The meaning of the word happiness

By some kind of miracle, I was able to get this chapter out before Wentworth Con next week. 17 766 words!

Chapter's title comes from the positive "Have it all" by Jason Mraz.

Enjoy, and thank you for your patience.

---

Chapter 17 : May you know the meaning of the word Happiness

"What is happiness?" The therapist asks the ten young adults listening to her attentively.

Debbie looks around, muffling a yawn. She would have given away the entirety of her savings account simply to stay in bed a bit longer this morning.

No one answers the question, but it's not surprising, judging that today is only their third session. She really doesn't want to answer either. This isn't supposed to be a philosophy class. This is supposed to be some curative therapy that will save her from all that is dysfunctional and rotten in her mind. This is supposed to build her back together, to cure her from her addiction for drugs, and to banish all her toxic thoughts away from her mind.

That's not how they presented it to her, of course.

They told her that it would help. They told her that it was a group program for young adults who were addicted to drugs, hard drugs, not soft ones, because those would have required a different approach. Debbie thinks it's dumb because addiction is addiction, no matter where it comes from.

She'd gone to the first session, and she hadn't hated it, and everything the therapist had said had made sense.

She'd gone to the second one, and she hadn't been bored out of her mind, so now she's sitting here for the third time, tired, but not disinterested.

"Is it the drugs that you take? The drinks that you can't live without? The medicine that you take despite not needing it?"

Maybe, Debbie thinks. Maybe it is.

"Or is it the family you left behind to check yourselves in? The friends that look at you with anger and worry in their eyes at the same time? The love of your life waiting for you to get better?"

Debbie sighs loudly. Fine. Maybe it's not the drugs.

"Or is it the emptiness? The exhaustion even though you've slept all day and night? Bursts of anger or sadness, or impatience that have no cause? The feeling that you're not quite here, the same way everyone else seems to be? The feeling that something's not quite right, but you can't explain it nor fix it?"

Addiction and depression.

That's what they told her she had, and that's why she is part of this specific group.

She had denied it at first. Not the addiction. She'd known she was addicted and she had accepted it. But depression? No way. Depression was a whole other level. It was too hard for her. It was too heavy for her. She was just not okay for a little while. She was just dealing with life the best way she could. She was just trying so damn hard, so why would they tell her that she had depression?

She couldn't bear the idea that she would be labelled with such a strong word from now on.

Depression meant being judged. Depression meant being looked at like she was a fragile little thing that could break at any moment. Depression meant being called lazy, and liar. It was being told to just get over it and to just smile. It was riddled with assumptions and prejudices, and it was not who she was. She was so much more than this.

She couldn't be depressed.

She didn't want to take meds. She didn't want to have her entire personality changed, even though she knew too well that this was yet another incorrect belief to have. And they told her that this wasn't what medicine did, but she still had her doubts. They hadn't forced her, and she had only been noticed that she would be placed in a specific group that didn't focus solely on addiction issues.

She was still waiting, terrified that, one day, they'd barge into her room and ask that she takes medicine, but it hadn't happened so far. And whatever this dark cloud above her head was – anything but depression, of course – she was expecting it to disappear soon. But it hadn't, yet.

The therapist is looking straight at her when she comes out from the inside of her mind.

"Do you know what happiness is?" she asks.

Debbie shakes her head negatively.

She wishes she knew, and for a long time, she had thought that she knew.

But today, she has no clue what happiness really is.

When the session ends, with words that are either too wise to be understood or too stupid for Debbie to bother remembering, the young woman can't quite decide whether she wasted her time or moved forward with her intervention plan.

She walks through the halls of the building, heading back to her room for the small break she has before another mandatory activity. She shyly greets the few people she meets before she finally reaches the familiar lime green walls that characterize the aisle that she resides in.

She closes the door to her room and manages to stare at the ceiling for a whole twenty seconds before her mind spirals down again.

---

A light chuckle.

"Good morning beautiful."

"I don't want to."

"Get up."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll tickle you until you get up."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Don't you dare."

"Bea?"

"Yeah?"

A laugh so loud that it sends ripple through the world.

---

The door opens and Bea instinctively looks up, her smile widening when she sees Allie walking inside the salon with mischief in her eyes and the sun following closely behind her. Bea blinks once and then twice, before she accepts that she isn't hallucinating the presence of her favorite woman.

"What are you doing here?" She asks without pausing her movements. She's been here for a few days now, long enough to reacquaint with her hairdresser skills and to master the art of multitasking on the busiest days.

Allie winks and takes a seat in the small waiting area. She grabs a newspaper from the giant pile next to her and starts reading the headlines, without giving so much of a second glance to her girlfriend. She tries not to laugh when she feels Bea's eyes drilling holes in her skull.

Bea narrows her eyes suspiciously, but she can't afford to let the blonde steals too much of her attention. She has clients lined up to see her today, and she knows some of them specifically requested for her. It's the first time since she's started working here, and she won't let Allie ruin her perfect organization for the day, no matter how damn distracting her presence is.

She finishes with her client and quickly cleans the place for her next one. She's barely done with sweeping the floor and getting rid of all the dirty accessories when Allie takes a seat on the chair and grins at her knowingly.

"You're my next client?" Bea asks with a confused voice.

"Well, don't sound so excited to see me," Allie rolls her eyes. "I won't take too much of your time, I just want to freshen up the haircut. It's been a while since we kissed in an empty salon, too long, to be exact. And obviously, we can't do it anymore, so I did the next best thing."

"I was supposed to have another appointment," Bea resists despite the small grin that appears on her lips. Her mind is busy calculating how many minutes she can spare to focus on Allie, but she knows she's juggling with people until the end of the day. "You could have asked me at home."

Home. Even now, she still swoons when she thinks of this word.

She walks to the front counter and turns the pages of the small agenda until she finds the information she's looking for. It's written in bright blue and circled in a darker shade of the same color, as if her co-worker had planned this for a long time, and the name flashes before her eyes like it's made of neon lights.

"DJ Allie Cat? That's the name you used for the reservation, and they let you?"

"Should I be offended that you didn't even notice?" Allie gasps mockingly, dramatically getting up from the chair and pressing her hands to her chest. "Who else do you know with that name?! Don't you lie to me, Bea Smith!"

"How are you going to pay?" Bea laughs freely at Allie's antics.

"Family don't pay, Smith!" Doreen replies teasingly from the other side of the salon. "And I answered her call, so don't worry about formalities. We're not that kind of place or we would lose all our clients. Now get back to work. We wouldn't want all that success to get to your head."

Allie laughs harder when she sees Bea nods politely at her boss.

"Why today?" Bea asks curiously, not really knowing what to say.

She's suddenly feeling self-conscious, like she might slip on the floor on invisible water and embarrass herself in front of her crush. Her girlfriend. Who's still a crush. Who she loves very much. Too much, to be exact.

She feels Doreen's eyes on her and she turns pink. She'll be teased for the rest of her days here, she has no doubt about it.

"What if one day you don't have time for me anymore?" Allie falsely pouts while Bea leads her to get her hair washed.

"I'll create time out of thin air," Bea nods confidently.

"And if you're some hot shot hairdresser that's requested in every country of the world? You have the potential, we all know that. You'll get free plane tickets to fly to other continents and you'll get to meet famous celebrities, and you'll probably be asked out a million times," Allie imagines with a seriousness that doesn't sit well in the pit of her stomach.

"I'll stay here with you," Bea states, making a small promise at the same time. "I'll use those plane tickets to visit the world by your side, I'll tell people you're the only celebrity I want to know, and I'll repeat a million times that I don't need anyone but you."

Allie hums skeptically, but the smile in her eyes betrays how joyful she truly is.

"Then, you better get used to me showing up here out of nowhere," Allie replies casually. "Because that'll happen. A lot."

She closes her eyes when she feels the water hits her head. She thinks she hears the subtlest chuckle above her, and she hopes she never get used to this fluttering feeling within her chest.

"I can't wait for it to happen again."

Allie's heart twists a few more times when Bea leans quickly to steal a chaste kiss from her lips.

---

A smile.

"Allie?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you say if I accidently cut off all your hair?"

"You wouldn't…"

"What was it this morning… try me?"

"Bea, if you do that, you are sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life."

"But it'll be worth it."

"I can't believe I'm in love with you."

The widest smile in the world.

---

They separate at the end of the day.

Bea jolts away in the empty street opposite of the one followed by Allie. She finds herself standing in front of the familiar rehabilitation center, the same one her daughter admitted herself to, almost two weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime ago, and Bea feels angry at the thought that she can't do anything but visit every three days.

She walks past the reception after signing her name. The door beeps and she's allowed in, and she can't help but think that this is strangely familiar to a detention center, where every entry is monitored and every departure has to be signed twice by staff members. She makes her way to the visitor's room and waits for the familiar view of her daughter's silhouette.

She's come here twice already. The first time had been terrifying. She'd worried that she'd find her daughter strapped to bed, fed with electroshocks and bathed in bleach. Instead, she'd found her motivated and eager to get on with her treatment, impatient to get better. The second time, she'd found her daughter tired and a little disenchanted, having realized that healing doesn't take a few days, but rather a few months, even a few years.

The third time, she sees the reality, the raw reality as it truly is.

Her daughter is wearing battle scars all over her face as she goes through the hardship of fighting her addiction. She looks exhausted and angry with herself, and her eyes are the battlefield for one of the bloodiest war Bea has ever witnessed.

Still, a grin blooms on her face and Bea thinks that Debbie has never looked more like her old self than right this moment.

"My beautiful little girl," Bea declares as she gets up and pulls her daughter in a tight hug. "How are you?"

"I'm not a child anymore," Debbie jokes lightly, returning the embrace. "I'm all grown up. Doing grown up things, like poisoning myself."

"And making the wise decision of healing yourself," Bea points out as they sit together on a comfortable couch. "You're making progress at this."

"So are you," Debbie shrugs. "I'm just trying, and maybe one day, if I try hard enough, we can go back to just being us."

Bea smiles sadly, melancholy covering her eyes with a thin veil.

"What does it mean?" she asks curiously. "If you try hard enough."

She likes those visits. Even if she can see that it drains her daughter's energy by the second, she likes them. They don't interact while being on the edge of their seats anymore. There's no adrenaline replacing the oxygen in their blood, and there's no impulsive need to hide themselves from spying ears under a blanket castle.

They both know that they are completely safe here.

They talk just like they did before, when they weren't constantly slapped by circumstances greater than them, and when enemies weren't hiding in every stranger's eyes. They laugh and, despite the sound being small and quiet, it feels real this time, not forced or strained or empty. They look at each other without fear and paralyzing doubt, and every syllable they share takes another brick off the wall that's built between them.

"It means you won't have to come here to see me, and I won't have to be in here in the first place," Debbie says simply. "I'll get my own place, and you'll come visit me every week because you're the neediest mother on Earth, and then you'll criticize my food choices and my sleep schedule. Like we should have done from the beginning."

"Is that really how it'll be?" Bea chuckles, the volatile scenario popping in and out of her mind. "You know we're two in this situation. It's not just you, don't pressure yourself. I still have a way to go."

"With Allie too," Debbie adds, grabbing a bag of chips from the small table next to them. She tears it open and starts chewing on the snacks. "Because I bet you're the neediest girlfriend on Earth too."

In their last couples of conversations, Debbie had always made an effort to mention Allie a few times, and it fills Bea with a type of bliss she didn't even know existed. It seems as if all the little pieces of her life are finally fitting together rather than drifting away from each other.

"You won't mind if Allie comes to annoy you every week?" Bea raises an eyebrow, not really serious. "I don't believe you."

"I think you're so in love, you'll grant Allie whatever she wants, including all rights to annoy me." Debbie points out in a light tone that shows she really doesn't care whether it happens or not.

She doesn't mind if Allie shows up now and then. She hasn't seen the blonde since that last day they spent together, and she hates to admit it, but she's starting to miss her. She won't tell her mother about it. She's sure Allie has other things to do than to visit her in a rehab center.

"That is not true!" Bea claims defensively.

"Oh yeah?" Debbie leans against the couch until she's almost lying now. She grins wickedly at her mother. "So you're not in love with her?"

Bea is so in love with Allie that she could take a plane and write it in the sky so the entire planet could see it and applaud them.

"I didn't say that," Bea replies calmly, reminding herself that she won't die from an overdose of romantic feelings.

"And you won't grant Allie whatever she wants?"

She would give Allie everything and more, and even more, and when she'd be done, she'd create new concepts to offer them to the blonde as well.

"I didn't – I just – " Bea frowns and points an accusatory finger at her daughter. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Your lying skills suck. And I'm in rehab. I've met people who cannot lie to save their own life."

Bea pokes her daughter's ribs playfully and she receives a tongue sticking in her direction in exchange. In another life, she might have rolled her eyes at Debbie for displaying such a childish behavior, but this isn't another life. This is a life during which she has denied Debbie's rights to have a childhood. She'll let Debbie act like this for as long a she wants. It reminds her of everything she missed as a mother.

"How was your day?"

"We talked about happiness in today's session," Debbie frowns at the memory. "As if talking about it was enough for us to find the way to reach it. It's a start, but I don't think it helped much."

It's such an abstract concept that, for a moment, Bea doesn't really know what to reply either.

"It's a start," she sighs after a while. "They must know what they're doing or this place wouldn't be so highly recommended. Or they've been lying to us from the beginning, but I refuse to accept it."

If it only depended on her, she would take her daughter away from this place, from this strange building that reminds her too much of prison to do any good. She might have read about the theory behind the clinical program and the contents of the different sessions, she still doesn't see how these people can claim that they have the most efficient way to cure addiction.

And depression. The diagnosis had sliced like a guillotine on her daughter's head, and Bea is still trying to come to terms with it, still trying not to blame herself from it, and still trying not to down in an ocean of misconceptions.

She doesn't have any guarantee that the program works. She can only focus on what Debbie tells her, but it's not enough. Even if she sees the changes, the small differences in Debbie's non-verbal cues, she can't see what is happening within her brain.

"I didn't learn anything," Debbie says. "I only discovered that no one, not even the therapist, knows what happiness is."

"That's because it's different for everyone," Bea explains to the best of her knowledge. "They must have wanted you to think about what it could be, for you. What happiness is for you isn't necessarily going to be what it is for someone else."

"What is it for you? I know it wasn't what you had with dad."

Bea frowns.

A second ago, she was sure she knew the answer, but now that she's being asked, she has no idea. The easy reply would be to say that whenever Allie is around her, she feels happiness. But then, what about those times when she simply thinks of Allie, and she still gets that erratic beating within her chest? This must be happiness too. And what about those times she spends without Allie, but still feels like she can tackle the world's greatest obstacles? She's only just rediscovered the feeling, but it sure seems similar to happiness as well.

So what can it be? Is it her? Is it the atoms that compose her? Can they vibrate a specific way that transforms her from an ordinary human being to an explosive entity made of happiness?

"I don't know," she concedes. "I never really thought of it. I didn't have much time to think about it."

Debbie sighs like she's made of dust and she's slowly mixing with the ambient air. Like she has no beginning, no end, no consistence at all. Like she's made of the unknown.

"We were told that we focused so much on the bad that we never notice the good. And that if we took just a bit more time to notice the good, we would find the answer to the question. But it sounds like it's too easy. Or just stupid."

Too easy and too hard at the same time.

"Do you think you're doing better?" Bea asks, trying not to show how hopeful she is.

Debbie looks at her with eyes that are centuries old.

Something snaps inside of her.

"I think I've realized how low I was, but I don't think I'm doing better yet," she confesses slowly, like her words are knives and she's throwing them blindly, simply wishing she doesn't accidently pierce her mother's heart.

The realization was inevitable from the very start.

It just took a long time for the stars to align, for gravity to stop forcing her down so she could finally start climbing the tall mountain facing her. Now, she's standing at the top of the world. The coordinates fit perfectly with those of the highest peek of the universe.

If she looks behinds her, she can still hear the deathly songs of domestic violence and drug addiction trying to lure her back. But if she looks ahead, she sees monstrous cliffs that leads her right back to the bottom of the mountain if she misplaces the tiniest step.

Standing so high, she can't tell where the cacophonic symphony ends and where the skydiving road begins. She can't tell her consciousness apart from the raging concert whistling in her ears. She just knows that if she stays still for too long, she'll get carried away by the strongest winds, so she might as well take a step forward and gamble her life once more, and hope that this time, she gets it right.

"I needed to come here to realize how bad I was," she admits with a small voice. "I needed to…"

She pauses, he mother's eyes fixated on her.

"I needed to do my worst to realize that I could do better. And I still feel like that sometimes, like I need to explore the bottom before I can go up. I still feel like I'm not done being sad and feeling empty."

Even now, saying those words, she doesn't know how she's supposed to feel. She doesn't know if this is relief being born inside of her, or if it is denial or resistance. She doesn't know if this is really emptiness, or if she's gotten so good at blocking her feelings that she simply can't access them anymore.

Bea takes Debbie's head gently between the palm of her hands.

"I'm here now. I'll never let you go, remember? I'll say it as many times I need to for you to believe me. And I won't let you explore all those places without me. You don't want to end up where I was," she chokes on the words, but they free themselves regardless. "you saw everything, you know how bad it gets. Now, I may not know what it feels like in your head, but I know you don't want to stay there."

Debbie nods, leaning against her mother's touch.

"When you sent me away, I thought you had moved on. And when you met Allie, I was sure you had moved on and that you wouldn't want me anymore."

Bea frowns, destroyed about the thought that her daughter ever felt this way.

"Why would you think that?"

"I thought I just reminded you of what dad did and that you wouldn't want me anymore," Debbie confides.

Bea shakes her head quickly.

"Oh, my beautiful girl. You don't remind me of what he did. You remind me that he couldn't beat us, that we are invincible. And if I ever need a reason to keep fighting, I just think of you."

Bea wants to take those thoughts and annihilate them with her bare hands. She doesn't want her daughter to feel this way.

Her daughter is the only source of beauty in all this hideous mess.

"What changed for you?" Debbie asks, changing the subject and wondering if it is too late to ask for her mother's wisdom. "What made you… you?"

"I got lucky," Bea softly whispers. Images of her first encounter with Allie twirl inside her head, like fallen leaves stuck in the gentlest breeze forever. Memories of her stay at Wentworth dance in her soul, over and over again. "I don't know what else I would have done otherwise. I just got really lucky that I found good people."

She doesn't want to think about another situation. Other situations don't exist for her. They can't. They never will.

"I got Brayden," Debbie groans. "And I still have dad."

"Still?" Bea asks, her blood freezing momentarily.

"He's texting me, still. I tried blocking him, but he's contacting me from different numbers. I have to constantly avoid him now. And I can't tell him to piss off because that means I have to answer him."

Bea thinks back of her own phone, the same persistent buzzing, the same never-ending vocal messages that threaten her constantly. She thinks of the constant fear she lives with, the one she's almost used to now.

"Mom, I need you to do something," Debbie confronts her with a voice that shakes despite being carved in diamond. "I won't ask anything ever again but… I can't even focus here. And he – he technically isn't obliged to leave me alone."

It's the moment after the first step, when the ground is coming at her at lightspeed and the air is whistling painfully in her ears, and the surface of her skin is scalding hot and the world is made of fire. It's the milliseconds during which she doesn't know where's up, where's down, and whether she is going the right way or not. It's the moment during which she is immortal, and unbreakable, and terrible fragile and made of the most delicate glass.

It's the moment where everything stops, where every particle of the universe stands still and waits for the explosion to occur.

Then, she realizes she hasn't slipped off a cliff, and time moves on.

"You need to go to the police," Debbie whispers carefully, weighting every word and every tone.

And Bea nods, because there's nowhere else to hide and nothing else to do.

"I'll do it," Bea promises. "I'm ready now."

"Really?" Debbie watches her like she doesn't know where the limits of their newfound trust is.

"I will," Bea swears, "I'll protect you. And everyone else."

Confidence is a drug too, she thinks.

"And yourself," Debbie adds. "You'll protect yourself."

Bea nods.

She's ready for the end of the war now. She's ready for the prison to welcome a new criminal.

She's ready to bury him once and for all.

---

A soft ringtone.

"Hey Allie."

"Bea? Why are you calling, is everything okay with Debbie?"

"Yeah, everything's great. I just…"

"What's wrong?"

"I just missed your voice."

The sweetest melody she's ever heard.

---

There's a thin line of blood on her finger that comes from a small paper cut and Allie stares at it for a long minute before she finally wipes it away. It stings and it shocks her arm like it's wrapped in barbed wire before it vanishes. It stops bleeding immediately and Allie is left with a small pink wound.

Her eyes are glued to the lone cloud in the sky while she leans on the wall of the building facing another place that wouldn't hire her. She closes her eyes. She pretends that she is that cloud, floating away without anyone noticing or caring much about it. She wishes she could speak to the air at least, that way she'd direct it to lead her wherever it is that she will find a job.

She clutches her resume in one hand and her cover letter in the other. The paper crinkles loudly and almost cuts through her skin again. She wouldn't mind if it did. It's not going to be much useful anymore. She's given it to a least a hundred places in the last weeks. She's more than certain that employers are sick of her face and are warning each other about the crazy blonde woman going from one place to another, begging for a job.

She doesn't understand why people need her to have three years of past experience just to serve some coffee to strangers. There must be something wrong with this world, she thinks.

She's tired of coming back to the apartment at night and telling Bea that she has had yet another unsuccessful day of job hunting. She knows she shouldn't feel this way, but she still worries that if she doesn't start doing something, anything, Bea will kick her out like she would a rodent.

She turns her resume into a paper plane and watches it fly until it crashes into a small puddle. She stares at it emotionlessly. It sinks to the bottom of the puddle and turns into an unrecognizable mush. Maybe that's what it's worth to the eyes of the privileged. Mush.

Fuck it. She's done.

She's done with rejection. She's done with the judgemental looks she receives whenever people glance at her qualifications and find nothing relevant. She's done with spending an enormous amount of energy on trying to find a job that she knows she won't like anyway. She should be chasing her passion, not trying to find a temporary distraction that will make her want to quit after a day.

Just because she doesn't have years of experience doesn't mean she's good for nothing. She knows how to survive without money, without a roof above her head and without friends to rely on. She knows how to light a fire that will be small enough that it won't attract anyone's attention. She knows how to tell which drugs are safe and which aren't just by looking at them. She knows which streets to avoid at night, and which to hide from during the days. She knows the best places to escape the coldest evenings and the small wonderlands that'll pity her enough to gift her a coffee on a good day.

If the apocalypse happened today, all these self-centered arrogant idiots in suits and ties would be the first to fall, and she would thrive and survive, and even teach a group of fearsome kids everything that she knows. She would be the last woman standing.

A firework explodes in her brain at her last thought.

She would be the last woman standing.

She would be the sole survivor because she knows everything there is to know about surviving in the streets, and it's the only thing that she can't put in her resume. It's useless. Knowing how to survive in the streets is useless, unless she shares that knowledge with those who need it.

Like Debbie. Like that teenage girl she keeps talking to. Like all those kids who are living in the streets and deserve better.

She's had this strange feeling ever since Debbie told her that she was one of the good people and now she finally knows what it is. It's the satisfaction of knowing where she belongs and what she's meant to do.

She cracks her knuckles and heads to the direction of the youth shelter. It's only a few minutes away, but she's sweating nervously by the time she gets there. She stares at the door for a minute, but she finds herself unable to walk in.

It's like her feet are rooted in the ground so deeply that she cannot even take a step forward. Even her ambition cannot help her dig her way out. She feels like a damn tree and she hates it, and an irrational part of her starts to wonder why the fuck people like nature so much.

She lets out a frustrated scream that attracts a few curious glances, and she runs away before they start wondering if she's gone mad.

Dammit.

She has it. She has her plan, her passion, all figured out.

But she can't just waltz in here, asking for job when she has no credentials whatsoever.

She rushes to the library and paces in-between the different sections while she waits for a computer to be available. Her eyes shine when she arrives in the sociology area. All those books are suddenly chanting her name, and all the subjects are suddenly more interesting than they were a few months ago.

Her name is called when a computer becomes available, and her fingers move with anticipation as she opens the familiar search browser.

When she's done, she doesn't feel like a cloud or a tree anymore. She's not just a passenger waiting to arrive at her destination.

She's creating her destination.

She is the destination.

She's Allie Novak and she's ready to have her revenge on the streets. She high fives herself and she has no regrets doing so.

She nearly runs to her informal appointment and the only reason she doesn't hit every obstacle she passes by is because she has a stellar survival instinct.

"How much do you hate social workers?" Allie declares loudly, sitting next to the teenager in a fluid movement.

They've been meeting for a while now, and she knows she doesn't need to act so polite anymore. If the girl didn't want her there, she would have told her a long time ago. A bit longer, and maybe she'll convince her to go somewhere else in the future.

She wonders how long they can keep doing this, keep meeting under the sun and pretend like they both have time to spare for one another and no other urgent matter to get to.

When she'd come here the day after she'd brought Debbie with her, the teenager had looked at her with wary eyes, like trust wasn't part of the equation anymore. The girl had spent the entire conversation looking behind Allie, expecting someone else to show up and share their secrets again.

But by the end of the conversation, Allie could have sworn that she had seen a glimpse of disappointment in the girl's eyes, as if she had hoped for Debbie to show up this time. Allie could only guess that the other girl didn't have any friends around her age. She'd probably thought that Debbie had judged her harshly and never wanted to see her again.

Friendship doesn't come easily here, Allie had thought morosely.

It's almost impossible to find, and it's dangerous to even hope for it. After that misstep, it had taken her a few hours with the girl to be trusted again, to be trusted not to bring false hope around here again.

And today, she receives her usual detached shrug in exchange for her question.

"Because that's it. I've found what I want to do. I'll be a street worker. Social worker. Not street worker. It sounds like I'm going back to my old ways," Allie frowns. "Whatever you call them. I'll be that person who reach out to others in the streets. You know, just walking around and talking to people, and not helping them, just like I haven't helped you," Allie shares with enthusiasm.

She beams under the suspicious stare she gets from the teenager, and sends her best wink in her direction.

"You'll become the person you hated when you were in the streets?" the girl asks curiously.

"Life is unpredictable, isn't it?" Allie chimes. "Maybe in a couple of years, you'll be one too. Maybe we'll even work together and you can pretend like I still can't help you."

"I guess this is where our friendship ends," the girl jokes. "Can't get along with someone who wants to help me and make me leave my comfortable spot here."

Allie gasps loudly and turns her body to fully face the girl with a gleeful expression in her eyes.

"We're friends?"

The girl looks down, like she regrets saying those words. Maybe she's reading too much into it and she's imagining a connection that isn't really here, but just as she's about to say forget it, Allie refuses to let her disappear again.

"This is good!" Allie claims loudly, savoring the breakthrough. "This is great. Friendship isn't bad, and you shouldn't walk away from it. I'm glad I'm your friend. Hell, I'm proud to be your friend."

The girl nods slowly, accepting the situation and the fact that Allie isn't calling her insane. Like her parents did when she came out, or like her friends back then, who weren't her real friends in the end. But how long has it been now, since they met each other? A few weeks. A few months? Time has no meaning in the streets.

"Proud?" she repeats the word with a brittle voice.

No one could be proud to be her friend. She's dirty and she's always begging for a few lost coins whenever a stranger meets her eyes. She hasn't finished school and she won't ever be one of those successful people that get to eat in fancy restaurants and plan adventures to other countries. She'll just be too busy wandering in the hidden paths, trying to get the precious clues to win the quest of life.

"Yes. Proud," Allie confirms. "Are you kidding me? You're a survivor, of course I'm proud to know you. I wouldn't have it any other way."

She looks at the teenager like they're two peas in a pod and the girl huffs and chuckles and bursts in laughs a few seconds later.

"You'd make a good social worker," the girl breathes out softly, offering a bit of encouragement to an ecstatic blonde. "You have the heart for it."

Allie smiles like a small child on the morning of Christmas.

"You think so? I have the heart to help those who don't want my help?" she wiggles her eyebrows knowingly. "Even the most stubborn ones like you?"

The teenager nods, but she doesn't add anything else.

"Ah, you've reached your quota of compliments today, haven't you?" Allie nudges her with her foot. "That's fine. I've gotten more than I expected."

The girl hits her shoulder and Allie struggles to keep a serious face. This is easy, and fun, and nothing like their first meeting.

"So, friend," Allie grins, "I actually came here because I need something from you. A favor. It's a bit strange, but I gathered information on what it takes to be a social worker earlier today. I need to start somewhere and I thought I'd go apply for an easy at that youth shelter near here. I don't know if you've heard about it?"

The girl moves away just enough for Allie to notice it. She's heard about it only because Allie keeps mentioning it every time they meet now, like it's somehow going to be enough for her to go.

"You won't need to come with me if you don't want to," Allie adds quickly. "But you should know that I mentioned you to them before. I thought – I just wanted you to meet someone. And because you're still here, I'm guessing they never sent anyone."

The teenager takes her empty hat in her hands and fiddles with it a little. She doesn't say anything, but Allie knows that this conversation must be uncomfortable for her. She wishes she had something else to say instead, maybe some useless piece of information about the weather, but this is what they are meant to do: speak about the subjects they like least so they can eventually move on to better days.

"I might mention you again because, in this field, I'm nobody," Allie explains slowly. "I have no experience, I didn't finish school, I don't even know the theory behind social work. I just try to get inspired by my own life. I don't even know if I'll be admitted to school again. So I'll need references to tell people that I can do it. I'll need someone who's talked to me, and you know me well enough for that... I think"

She's never had references before. She has no idea what questions someone asks a reference, and what influence it might have on the employer's final choice. She's never had a proper job. She's just guessing as she goes and hoping that she doesn't fall into a bottomless well.

It almost feels like she's back to a point in her life during which she doesn't know anything at all. It strangely reminds her of when she was first thrown out of her house.

Except this time, she's not crying, and she's not lost, and she's not afraid about tomorrow.

The teenager drops her hat to the ground again. By the time she speaks again, two people have stopped to drop a few coins in it. It's not much, but it might be enough to pay for a quick snack tonight.

"I can't."

Allie's smile falters, but doesn't disappear.

"What? Yes, you can," she insists. Her whole plan depends on this young stranger to agree. "I'm not even sure they'll consider coming here and getting your opinion, but if they do, you just have to tell them how I annoy you, but in a good way."

The girl shakes her head and Allie is left with a heavy feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She glances at the hat, at the shoes with holes in them, at the torn-out jeans and the stained shirt. She looks at the few coins, a small treasure on a deserted island, and at the empty granola bar package, a feast for someone who hasn't had food in a while. She wonders how she can convince the girl to help her.

Because she needs help for this. She needs all the help she can get and she's not afraid to admit it, and she wishes everyone else could see that this isn't a bad thing.

She understands what's wrong at the same time that the girl offers her an explanation, and she wants to hit her head against the wall for not catching up earlier.

"I want you to help people," the girl explains gently.

I don't want to destroy your dreams.

"You just need to be yourself," Allie says quickly.

"People don't like me when I'm myself," the girl smiles with the saddest eyes.

I will ruin everything for you.

Allie sees the cracks appearing in her well-crafted plan and she rushes in with cement to solidify it. She fills the cracks carefully, not too fast, but not too slow either. The pace needs to be perfect for her masterpiece to keep standing. If she hurries up, she'll make everything worse, but if she waits too long, it'll be too late for her to remember what the plan even looks like.

"I don't want you to lie for me. I don't want you to pretend to be someone else or to sell a reality that isn't true. I want you to say the truth. How you see me, and whether I helped you or not. Just tell them what you can. Nothing more. Nothing more matters than your honest opinion."

The girl stares at her like she will never believe her, and Allie's heart breaks when she realizes that, maybe, all that progress she'd thought had occurred, is just the product of her imagination.

Maybe, deep inside, the girl still feels like she did on the very first day they met.

"Here, I'll repeat it," Allie whispers genuinely. "Your opinion matters. I care about it. I bet so many others would, if you let them hear it. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry that you were forced to believe otherwise."

She wishes her words alone could encourage the girl to believe in herself, but that's not her journey to make.

"What if I ruin everything?" the girl asks.

"It's a risk I'm taking," Allie replies. "But I'm not worried. I doubt you will ruin anything. I'm awesome. Your words can't change my awesomeness, that's the rule."

The girl snorts loudly and acts like she didn't hear the last part.

"I just think that, while you're here, you might want to, maybe, help me?" Allie grins, her heart reaching out to the girl's. "I need your help."

It takes a few more moments of silence and a few more exchanged glances, but the girl eventually looks like she's accepting to take on the role of Allie's helper.

"With that said," Allie points the hat, "your hat's breaking a bit more every day. Have you considered seeking help, any type of help?"

She throws the question out without really thinking about it, and without really expecting the girl to answer. After all this time, she's gotten used to the girl dismissing any mention of help. It doesn't matter that she throws pamphlets at her with all the useful information on them, they're always gone the following day. And it doesn't matter that she explains in details how to reach a specific shelter that could help her, she never gets any confirmation that the girl remembers the address the next day.

She only starts again every day, thinking that if she tries hard enough, she'll leave a trace.

But today, she gets an answer, and it's not one she wants to hear.

It's not one she ever wants to hear.

Her heart gets stabbed by the different syllables, and it breaks into pieces that are left with no choice but to follow her bloodstream and exist without the certainty that they'll ever reunite again.

"If I leave here, I'll truly be alone," the teenager chokes on her words, gifting another piece of her vulnerability to Allie. "You won't be with me anymore."

If the girl were made of music, her heart would be a lone drum pulsating to the sound of her crippling loneliness, her nerves would be guitar strings vibrating under the tensed fear of the future, her skin would wear tattoos of chords, all written in an ordered disordered way, and her voice would be a broken melody.

Allie remembers too well what it feels like.

It's the way she felt when she turned to Marie for the umpteenth time despite being heartbroken again. It's the way she felt when she went back to her dealer despite promising herself that she would stop using. It's the way she felt when she went back to the streets after failing to stay at a shelter.

The streets were always her safety net, the place she knew best.

"If you leave," Allie replies immediately, thinking of the words she wishes someone would have told her when she was the girl's age. "I'll find you again. That's what real friends do."

She pauses a minute and dips her toes in the metaphorical cold water still separating them.

"But since you're not leaving anytime soon, do you want to meet someone important to me?"

The teenager squints her eyes at her, like she's asking if this someone important will also look at her with possible disgust in her eyes, only to never show up again. If this someone important looks like a girl her age who could be her friend but won't, because they'll probably never meet again.

"Do you want to meet her, the person who changed my life and made me better?" Allie asks gently, her tone conveying that this is only a suggestion and that she's just throwing the idea out there. "I can come with her tomorrow? Then you'll see that, when you leave, great things can happen."

The girl doesn't reply. It looks like she might not want to speak again today, and Allie lets her. There's only so many secrets they can share in one day, and every time Allie thinks they've reached the limit, the teenager surprises her with more.

"Maybe?" Allie asks.

There's no answer, but Allie reads the silence like she would an open book.

"Maybe it is," she pats the girl's shoulders gently. "I'll see if she's available tomorrow, yeah?"

The girl stays immobile until she slowly, hesitantly, nods.

---

A question.

"Are you home yet?"

"Almost. I'm just a couple of streets away."

"Hurry up."

"Is the apartment on fire?"

"No."

"Is food ready?"

"You know I always wait for you."

"Are you naked?"

"Allie!"

"Just asking! But… are you?"

"Forget it, I'm not waiting for you tonight."

An exclamation.

---

The day is long gone when Bea and Allie fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted and full of renewed ambitions for their future days.

Allie tells Bea all about her career and everything she wants to do. She tells her about the world she wants to save and the laws she wants to change, and the traditions that are too old for this modern reality. She tells her about the ways she avoided death a million times against all odds, and how she wants to teach everyone that they can make it. She tells her about the drifting cloud and the way it seemed to exist in loneliness, and how she doesn't want anyone to feel this way.

She tells her about the efforts it'll take and the time it'll steal, and how she'll need focus more than ever before, but that she'll never neglect their relationship. She tells her that the streets stole too much of her life, and that she can't wordlessly watch a thief rob the innocents anymore.

Bea responds by pulling Allie a little closer and pressing her lips to the blonde's in a soft kiss.

Bea tells Allie all about her motivation to get rid of Harry once and for all, all about the report she wants to file and the promises she needs to keep. She tells her about the laws that are imperfect and broken, and how they prefer to torture the victims rather than punish the guilty, but that she needs to believe in the system for the time being.

She tells her about how long the process might be, how difficult it might become, and how it might become a part of their life altogether. She tells her that she might not sleep for a while, and that she might be eaten away by the idea that she's going to make everything worse, but that she'll make it through, like she always has.

Allie responds by pressing their bodies together while their mouths fervently explore each other. Every kiss leads them farther from the one before, and every touch is wilder than the one before. Every moan breaks the silence while adding tension between their legs, and every gasp colors their minds with a new realm of possibilities.

Every time Bea is about to ask if they can stop, Allie reads her mind and slows down her kisses, gently easing their breaths. The air remains charged with electricity until the next moment, until a few seconds later, when not enough makes them lose control again and everything becomes blurred again. A few blinks later and it all becomes too much, and they can't stop until they force themselves to, and everything starts again.

They don't remember when they fall asleep, maybe just seconds before lust takes over, but eventually, they wake up, bruises on their necks, skin on fire and eyes still dark from the heavy make-out session from the previous evening.

---

A complaint

"We're going to be late."

"You don't even have an appointment with that girl."

"It's still rude if I arrive too late. And you're going with me, we want to make a good first impression."

"Are you sure she wants to meet me?"

"Yes… Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"We'll surprise her."

"I don't want to impose."

"You won't. I promise. Please?"

"Stop making your puppy eyes at me."

"But it's working, isn't it?"

"… Maybe."

An affirmation.

---

They laugh all the way to the street corner, Allie relentlessly teasing Bea about what she calls her "reckless behavior" from the night before. Everything seems perfect with the two of them as they walk together and share jokes no one else can understand. They don't want anyone else to understand anyway. The world can have its secrets, they'll keep theirs.

And then suddenly, Allie's hand is no longer in Bea's, and the blonde is gone, dashing to the next street like a madwoman who's chasing her sanity without ever finding it back.

"Where is she?!" Allie shouts when they arrive at the familiar street corner and the teenager is nowhere to be seen. The hat is gone. The girl is gone. Any trace that there ever was someone sitting here every day for the past few weeks is gone. "She's never not been here!"

She paces around the empty space that used to be their safe space, like her simple motion is going to make the teenager reappear suddenly. She sprints to the other street corner, somehow thinking that she got it wrong, despite knowing very well that she did not. She asks everyone who walks her way, but they all look at her like she's lost her mind, and maybe she did, because after all this time, she can't understand how the emptiness can be so meaningful.

She comes back to Bea, who's still a few meters away, with a lost expression on her face, like suddenly the physic laws of the universe are all wrong and she's teleported in a place that's out of time's and logic's reach.

She thinks it's stupid that the first time she came here, she tripped over the girl because she didn't see her, and today, she just sees the void left by her absence. She will never see anything than the shadow of the teenager now. Never.

"You see her once a day, maybe she'll come back?" Bea suggests, rotating her head and seeking the stranger she's set to meet today.

"I wish it was this simple," Allie mumbles, still searching around with so much energy that she isn't sure where it all comes from. "Just like the sun rises in the morning and sets at night, and how the sky is blue and the grass is green, her presence here is… it's inevitable. It doesn't change. It can't, unless something happened."

She kicks the ground where she knows the girl should be sitting, and then she sits at the exact same place, exhaling loudly in disbelief. There are too many thoughts going through her head, and she's trying not to let them take over her rationality, but they keep appearing and she can't dismiss them fast enough. She isn't sure which ones are good or bad.

Where is the girl? Did she finally succumb to the temptations of the streets? It wouldn't make sense, not after all this time, but Allie knows too well that a single word can trigger great things. Did someone find her and force her to move away? Did someone rob her hat again and she ran after them to a mystery destination?

Or did she just realize that she couldn't live in the streets, forever talking to a stranger who comes to visit her every day to talk about nothing?

"It's my fault. I told her I wanted her to be my reference and now she probably freaked out," Allie complains. "And I told her she'd meet you, and she obviously wasn't ready," she adds, frustrated with herself.

Bea looks down, her heart stretching painfully for the way Allie's eyes are suddenly full of tears.

"I don't know if I wish she'd gone, or if I wish she'd come back here. I have no idea where she went. If it's worse, I want her to come back. But if it's not, then I wish she stays wherever she is," Allie sighs.

Bea sits next to Allie and winces at how hard the cement is. She can't imagine spending all day sitting here. She can't imagine staying here under the sun without any protection, just burning and melting away from society until someone accidently steps on her ashes someday.

She wonders if she'll ever meet the mysterious girl Allie keeps talking about. Maybe it is too late. Maybe it's not, but they don't know it yet.

"I wanted you to meet her so badly," Allie says with a morose voice, eyes glued to where the hat would be, had it been here. "I wanted her to see you. To see that I didn't make it up. That you're real. That if I made it, so can she."

"Maybe she made it yesterday," Bea murmurs, leaning her head to Allie's shoulder. "You don't know. What's her name? Maybe we can find her."

Allie shakes her head quickly.

"I don't know her name. I never asked and even if I had, she wouldn't have answered."

She doesn't know her name, and the girl doesn't know hers, and they don't have any way to find each other again unless they both reunite here someday.

"How do you know, if you never asked?" Bea asks.

Allie inhales deeply like her mind is currently in outer space. She seems to think of her answer and opens her mouth to explain everything, but then she changes her mind and decides on a simpler reply.

"There are some laws, even in places ruled by anarchy."

"That is strangely poetic."

Allie chuckles quietly. She wishes she could explain everything to Bea, but she can't. There are things that she can't quite put into words, and the subtleties related to her life in the streets are parts of it. She can't tell Bea how it smelled when she hadn't showered in weeks, and how she wanted to crawl out of her skin and miraculously turn into a butterfly. She can't explain how it felt when she hadn't had food in weeks and she depended on the leftovers in the garbage bags behind restaurants. She can't tell Bea how it hurt to sit on the sidewalk all day and how relief flood through her when a coin was tossed her way.

She can't tell Bea how lonely it felt.

Bea can't understand unless she goes through it herself, just like Allie can't quite understand what Bea went through, even if she's experienced violence too.

They may be deeply connected, might understand what it is like to survive on a drop of hope every day, but there are details that keep them miles apart.

"I can't believe she did it," Allie smirks, eyes still tracing lines on the ground. If she tries hard enough, she can see the hat, and she can hear the sound made by the coins being tossed into it.

If she tries hard enough, she can see the stranger's eyes, lifeless until they aren't anymore.

If she tries hard enough, she can hear the stranger's voice, empty and cold until it becomes warm and welcoming again.

She can witness the birth of trust between them.

She can feel the friendship growing until they can't deny its existence.

She can feel the friendship, still lingering in the air, and she can taste it in the back of her throat.

And somehow, something within her breathes the air and feels only hope.

"She got out," Allie declares, strangely confident. "She must have. I talked to her for too long for her to end up like me. I warned her about everything and everyone. I told her not to take drugs and not to trust strangers. And I know she won't screw it up like I did."

Bea smiles silently, listening to her girlfriend's determination. They have no proof of anything, but the way Allie says it makes her believe it.

"I like where you are right now," Bea points out, nudging Allie's side with her elbow. "You didn't end up so badly."

Allie's eyes shine like sapphires when she looks at Bea.

She knows what Bea is trying to do and she takes it. She takes the distraction and compliments, and the pride. She accepts the present the way it is, a little flawed, but perfect regardless. She would do it all again if she needed to, just to find herself sitting on that sidewalk with Bea next to her while she worries about a teenager she knows too much and not enough about at the same time.

"You may be right, it isn't so bad," she answers with affection in her voice. "I like where I am."

"Maybe she was scared to meet me," Bea laughs.

"You're right, maybe she was too intimated by your presence," Allie adds pleasantly. "I spoke highly of you."

"What did you tell her?"

"Just the truth," Allie replies simply with one of her signature winks, grinning at the way Bea rolls her eyes at her.

Allie knows Bea is waiting for more details, but she stays quiet.

Just the truth means everything and if she adds something, she will ruin it.

Just the truth means that Bea is a miracle, the one Allie had waited for her entire life.

Just the truth isn't a perfect love story. It is an imperfect tale that fits them perfectly.

They sit here for a while, as Allie keeps glancing around and hoping that the teenager will meet them.

But no one comes, and time slips away from them, and Allie accepts the fact that today isn't the day Bea will meet the younger girl.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time," Allie declares when they get up.

"Time spent with you is never wasted," Bea responds wisely.

Allie laughs sourly and presses a light kiss to the other woman's cheek. She feels the sun heating her skin and she hopes that, wherever the girl is, she can feel it too. That way, they can still share something, as meaningless as it may seems to be.

The walk back is slow, like a funeral march, and Allie prays that tomorrow, the girl will be back with an adventurous tale to explain where she went today. It's a selfish thought, because what if the girl somehow won the lottery and is now living her best life, but that's what Allie wants.

A change to talk again, to ask her all the questions even though they'll remain unanswered.

She needs to know that there is a positive ending. She needs to know if she made the right choice by befriending her, and if what she gave her was enough, or if she forgot something that could have truly made a difference.

She needs to know that the girl isn't lying in a ditch somewhere. She needs to know that the girl is fine and alive, and doing better than she was yesterday. She wants her to be doing better than yesterday. She wants the best for her, and this feeling is like instinct, it's a drive that she can't control. She needs to know that the girl isn't lost on another street corner, swallowing shit to get through the days and thinking about ending her own life.

She feels like they'd been making progress, but she has no guarantee that her perception is the right one. What if she's been fooled by a mastermind all this time?

Knowing is better than not knowing. It's less painful, less stressful, less terrifying. It's better than wondering and wasting energy imagining the worst-case scenarios. It's better than living on false hope and rusty dreams. It's better than feeling a hole in her chest that can only be filled with closure that's no longer within her reach.

Not knowing means that she'll worry for the rest of her life. It means that she'll focus on the what if rather than the reality. It means that she'll live with the knowledge that yeah? was the last word they ever exchanged together.

She needs to know.

They walk by a police station and Bea tenses, and Allie immediately stops, glancing up with questioning eyes. She focuses on the woman next to her, shaking the girl away for a moment.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

She looks up, noticing where they are, and she waits for Bea to ask her.

She may not know where the girl is, but she knows what Bea's mind is focused on.

She may not be able to do anything for the girl, but she has more urgent matters.

"I know this is a bad timing," Bea hesitates after a minute, her eyes drifting away and focusing back on Allie's. "You might have other things on your mind and we can just come back another day. It's just…"

The last words are unspoken but they resonate loudly in Allie's soul.

If it's not now, I might never be ready again.

She stands a little straighter and places one arm over Bea's shoulders, embracing her gently.

"Let's go," Allie declares.

Bea glances up timidly.

"Yeah?"

Allie leads her in, all other thoughts left behind.

"Fuck yeah," she replies, and it feels like she's screaming it to the end of the world.

---

A name.

"Allie?"

"Hm?"

"Can you, maybe, if you want, you don't have to, but – "

"What do you want me to do?"

"Hold my hand?"

"Always."

A promise.

---

If she could stop time, she would see a pen hanging in the air, waiting for her to direct its movement with her voice and start the final act of the show. She would see the sheet of paper, waiting to be filled with her story, ready to bear her blood, sweat and tears, ready to carry her tragic legacy.

She would see Allie's careful eyes stuck on her, pouring hope and encouragements in her direction like a constant rainfall. She would see the police officer, facial expression hard and focused with years of experiencing the worst of humanity. She would see herself, mouth hanging open, a blink away from spilling everything she thought she could never say.

She would feel like the light is too bright for someone who's ready to free the darkness from within themselves. She would notice the tension in her legs, as if she were ready to bolt away at the first sign of disturbance. She would look at the door and wonder why her alter-ego isn't running for it, but then she'd listen to the absence of fear and accept that this is it, this is the moment.

She would take the clock in her hands and stare at the absence of motion for an unknown amount of time. She would gently reach for the second hand and give it a light push. She would move it one second forward and make everything burst with life again.

She is ready.

The process to file a report is painful to go through.

She has to remember every detail, every word that was ever said, every insult and every time she lost a part of her self-esteem. She has to remember every fight and every wound, every time she almost bled to death. She has to remember how she almost lost her future, and how she almost sacrificed her daughter's. She has to recall the nights she didn't sleep because she was aching everywhere, and the days she put on a fake smile on her face to fool the entire universe into believing that her life was beautiful.

It brings her back in time.

The clocks turn backwards until she's outside, on the porch, with nowhere to go and no one to call. It turns back again, and she's standing in the kitchen with broken glass all around her, and every step she takes might cut her open and peel her skin away from her body, transforming her to a bleeding cadaver. It turns back again until she sees flashes of the first time he raped her, the first time he punched her, the first time he yelled at her, and the first time he told her she was worthless. She travels back to their first kiss, their first embrace, and their first meeting.

She goes back to his charming smile and his captivating words, and the moment she'd thought she'd found the love of her life.

And then, she's back in the small office with Allie by her side and she knows, just knows with certainty, that this is the last time she'll ever go back in time.

When it is all over and they tell her that he'll be arrested within twenty-four hours while he waits for his trial, she feels like the cage around her heart has ultimately been smashed down. She thinks that this is a dream and that she will wake up any second now, but she doesn't, not even when Allie leads her outside, back into the chaotic real world.

They walk home, hands linked together, not caring whether someone sees or judges.

They're in love, and they're not scared anymore.

---

A past.

"Bea?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

A future.

---

Allie comes back to the street corner the next morning, her heart beating so fast that it acts like it has a mind of its own. She tries to breathe slowly, but after a few seconds, she gives up. Oxygen is good, isn't it? She can't die from breathing too much, can she?

She walks quickly and tells herself that it'll be alright if the girl isn't here, that it won't be the end of the world and that there are an infinite number of days on which she could come back.

But she sees it from afar, the way the corner is empty and the familiar silhouette is nowhere to be seen.

She stands still in the middle of the sidewalk and clears her throat embarrassingly whenever someone walks past her. She pretends like she knows what she's doing, but her lungs are having trouble processing the air she's breathing and she thinks she's choking on the huge chunk of sadness she just consumed. She could cry if she wasn't so frustrated and angry by the fact that she misses a stupid hat.

She wonders if she should sit there now, and save the place for the girl in case she comes back.

She wonders if she'll turn into the girl if she sits there too long.

She wonders if, all this time, she's just been trying to relive her past and avoid making the same mistakes by teaching the girl everything.

She waits for a few minutes that turn into a few hours, and it's just enough time for her heart to drop to the bottom of her stomach and dissolve into the acidic liquid.

She runs to the youth shelter. There's nowhere else for her to go, and she knows that she can't wait here indefinitely. She breaks many laws on her way, crossing red lights and jumping over fences, but she doesn't really care. She just needs to get there and ask the questions that are poisoning her throat.

She almost slams the door when she walks in. She doesn't recognize anyone, and there are two women who definitely weren't there last time who are staring at her like she just destroyed the balance of their well-organized room.

"Have you welcomed any new girl in here recently? Yesterday or today?" Allie asks quickly, reaching out to them. "Shorter than me, younger, pale skin, probably carrying an old hat and always looking away until you actually talk and listen to her?"

The tallest woman opens her mouth to answer when someone shouts her name and she excuses herself, leaving Allie with a dark-skin woman whose eyes twinkle maliciously.

"We haven't," the shorter woman says. "Can I help you?"

Allie glances around. She doesn't recognize anyone, and the place is still full of people.

"I came here a while ago and I told someone about this homeless girl I've been seeing a few streets away from here. I wanted someone to go talk to her, but he said it wasn't in your perimeter. I was wondering if you'd changed your mind, if someone went to talk to her recently?"

"I haven't met anyone new recently," the woman frowns, looking down at her notes. "I'm a community worker here. I'm Ruby. I'm in charge of the boxing program and I meet the kids to talk to them about it. If anyone showed up while I wasn't here, you can ask my sister, Rita, but otherwise, I haven't met her."

"Are you sure?" Allie insists. "She's very small, she could have just slipped away in a corner, but she's impossible to miss if you walk by her."

Impossible, Allie repeats mentally, thinking of how she almost missed her the first time.

Impossible, Allie repeats again, even though she never would have looked at her, glanced at her, had she not tripped on her the first time.

Impossible. Unless she looks for it. Unless she works for it. Unless she finds her again, and all those who don't want to be found. Until she walks through the dark with them and forces them out of their dullest worlds.

"Are you in contact with the other shelters? With the other centers? Could you check if anyone's seen her? I can sit with you and you can draw her portrait if you need to. Or I can get my girlfriend to do it, she's great. She could be a professional artist," Allie gloats for a moment before her face gets serious again. "Would it work?"

Ruby laughs and places her hands on her hips, judging whether she should humor Allie a bit longer or not. She doesn't have the heart to tell her that there are thousands of lost kids in the city, and that looking for one in particular is a bit of a hopeless case. She doesn't have the heart to tell her that they receive hundreds of those requests every week and that there's not much they can do about them.

"What's the girl's name?" Ruby inquires politely.

Allie lowers her head and bites her lips. She should have expected that question.

"I don't know."

Ruby sighs and looks at Allie with apologetic eyes.

"I can't help you much then. I'm sorry," she apologies before she turns to speak to a young boy who has questions about the upcoming boxing activity.

Allie groans and stares at the walls plastered with posters from different organizations and different sensibilization campaigns. She could go everywhere, but that would take weeks, and she needs to find a job.

A job, she thinks again, frowning.

"If you're still trying to look for her, I can give you a list of phone numbers to call," Ruby announces once she's done with the boy. "It's a list of the shelters around here. Maybe she's found her way to one."

"I want to find her myself," Allie declares instead, her voice strong and sharp. "I don't just want someone to tell me that she's doing fine, if that makes any sense to you? I want to hear her say it to me. Or meet her."

She won't just tear a poster apart. She'll take the whole damn wall with her.

She is made of pure determination when she looks back at Ruby and sets her eyes on her.

"I want to work here."

Ruby smirks back at her like she can't believe what Allie is saying.

"Well, this is the first time I hear that one. We're not hiring at the moment, but that was a nice try, I'll admit it," Ruby retorts. "Look, I can't do much. I'll try to look out for her, but I make no promises. You can leave a phone number where to reach you, along with a description of who you're looking for, and if we have someone that matches, we'll call you."

Allie shakes her head negatively. She's not leaving until she gets something.

"This isn't an excuse, I want to stay here. I want to help."

Ruby still looks at her like she's waiting to hear a phone number, but Allie won't let's this intimidate her. She's played worse games in her life.

"I don't have anything, but I have knowledge. I was one of them, one of those kids. I lived in the streets, and I survived. I'm still surviving today, but I'm trying much harder to live freely. I know more than all those graduate nerds do," Allie spits out fiercely, forgetting for a moment that Ruby might be one of them. "I want to work here. Please. I'll do whatever you need me to do and I'll learn quickly, and if I'm not good, you can kick me out, but I need a chance. I need to start somewhere and it's going to take too long if I wait until I'm out of school."

She details her plan and her dreams, and she makes a step-by-step presentation of where she's been, what she's seen, and how she's had to survive on her own before. She talks about her own life like it is something useful and beautiful, and not shameful at all. She shares about her experience like it matters, like it will always matter, and like she will never try to hide it again.

She tells Ruby about the thousands of ways that she knows she can help people like her, and people that aren't like her, but that are living in terrible conditions. She tells Ruby about her tale as a survivor, as a warrior, and as a healer, and how it would all go to waste if she just gave up.

She tells her about how the beating of her heart left loneliness behind to create a symphony instead, how it plucks at her nerves gently, creating an extraordinary song, and how the chords on her skin are telling her story to the universe.

She tells her that it doesn't matter if she didn't graduate, because she already knows all the things not to say, and all the theory in the world couldn't teach her more than she already knows.

"It isn't that simple. We're not protected if something goes wrong and someone files a complaint against you if you mess up. You aren't protected either. One mistake could lead to the end of your career before it even starts," Ruby argues patiently. "I understand that you want to help people, but there is a proper way to do it."

"I can do it," Allie repeats like she's running for prime minister and this is the clue to her winning the elections.

"It's not just about whether you have the motivation or not," Ruby explains. "You clearly have the motivation. But…"

"Just say it," Allie challenges. "Whatever it is that I need to do first."

Ruby grins knowingly.

"You may have all the knowledge in the world, there are still things that you could do wrong. There are still things that you could say that could make a situation worse than it initially is, and if someone files a complaint against you for wrongdoing, you're done. You won't ever be hired anywhere else. You need the proper training for this field. You need to learn the way you could harm people unintentionally, before you can learn how to help them. You need to learn your rights as a professional, and the kid's rights too. If you start with us today, you won't make it. That much, I can assure you."

"How are you so sure?" Allie challenges.

"I made that mistake. I thought I could just teach a sport that I loved to those who needed something to focus on. I made a class, I taught people, and I changed some lives, but one person used those skills to beat the crap out of another kid because I didn't consider the individuals' needs."

Allie's eyes widen. She takes a second to think about everything Ruby says. It makes sense, and it frustrates her, and she wishes her life experience was enough to skip steps. It might take her years otherwise.

"Then I'll volunteer," Allie shoots back, daring, desperate and determined. "I'll be your shadow. I'll learn everything by watching you and if I overstep, you can tell me to fuck off. I just need a single chance to prove to you that I'm serious. I'll just be behind you and I'll do whatever you need me to do."

"I can't – "

"Don't send me back," Allie harshly snaps. She takes a deep breath to calm herself and she continues with a low voice. "Don't send me back when I've just found what I want to do for the rest of my life. I can do it. I mean it."

Ruby stares back at her with annoyance in her eyes, until that annoyance turns into something else. She glances up and down Allie's body and nods, satisfied. She thinks that if this blonde woman was on the boxing ring, she could probably last long enough to make it a tie.

"Alright then," Ruby declares. "You can try. One day per week only. It won't be easy, but I can tell you got some fight in you. After a month, if you're still motivated, we'll see about your options. I make no promises, maybe you'll have to go look somewhere else."

"That's fine with me," Allie states, trying to hide her satisfaction.

"And if you're still interested, you'll have to go to school. Feel too old for it? Think again," Ruby smirks. "You'll get to sit in three hours lectures for three years of your life before you're considered a professional."

"I'll see you in three years with a degree in my hands," Allie smirks back. "And then I'll beat you on the boxing ring."

Ruby laughs and extends her hand in front of her.

"Follow me then, just to file some paperwork. We can start next week. Be here at eight in the morning. The day starts early and it ends late. You better be ready."

Allie has a confident smile on her face and a small piece of paper in her hands when she leaves the center a few minutes later. They have to do a criminal background check, and she needs to give them a few references, but that's the easy part.

There's emptiness in her chest when she thinks of the girl, and a blissful feeling when she thinks of Bea, and despite having no money at all, she feels like she possesses an unmeasurable wealth at the moment.

---

"I need you to be my sugar mama a big longer."

"Excuse me?"

"Please, it's all part of my plan to rule the world."

"Allie."

"Bea."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"More than ever."

---

It's a hidden gem in the countryside, close enough to the city to rush back to an emergency room if needed, but far enough to taste the wilderness. There are mosquitoes greeting them when they get out of the small rented car, and they immediately loath the aggressive buzzing, but it's not enough to tame the exciting feeling that fills their hearts.

"I thought we were going camping," Maxine deadpans as she observes the luxury cabin that welcomes them.

It is small enough to be hidden by the surrounding trees, but its modern architectural style clashes with the green paradise stretching around in all direction. The glass walls are the guarantee that the view will be fantastic from everywhere inside the cabin, and the small balcony faces a small private lake.

"We are!" Franky argues, grabbing her bag from the trunk of the car. "We're outside."

"This won't be camping," Maxine points out with a clever tone. "It looks like a small hotel."

"It is camping! In Bridget's cabin! It's not my fault she's a licensed psychologist with lots of money to spend." Franky beams proudly, thinking of the woman who stole her heart and sanity. "And there's no way we would have survived in the wild."

"You could have mentioned it!" Boomer argues, her back bending under the weight of her ginormous bag full of camping gear that she borrowed from the different women she's come to know over the years. She struggles to gain her balance as she takes a few wobbly steps towards the cabin. "I came here with a ton of survival books."

"And ruin the surprise? You know me better than that, Booms. Today is about celebration. I wouldn't let us do that without proper bathrooms."

They rush through the rocky path leading to the front door, too busy arguing about whether this is camping or not to notice the two women left behind.

"This is insane," Allie declares, mouth wide open at the sight.

She's never believed that, once in her life, she would be part of the elite that can afford an expensive house in the countryside. She feels slightly out of place and she mentions it to Bea, who reassures her with a single glance.

"This may seem crazy, but I know Franky. She won't expect us to wear white gloves around the house and act like people we're not. And she said it too, this is a celebration," Bea adds. "I'm just relieved we found a moment we could all be together. Franky might have murdered me if I'd reject another one of her invitation."

"Does Bridget even know we're here?"

"That's Franky's problem," Bea chuckles. "I doubt she'd risk anything though."

They join the others, who are still in the middle of a heated debate, and open the door to a clean, spacious living room. The brick walls to their left strongly oppose the glass wall on the other side, and if they paid enough attention, they would notice that every accessory, every furniture, is complementary to another one, as if Bridget had planned it carefully.

"There are two rooms," Franky declares. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch. You don't want to sleep on it anyway," she adds slyly with a suggestive wink.

She ignores everyone's disgusted look and studies the rest of the group with serious eyes. She hums pensively, like her thoughts are running at full capacity. She points to the small stairway leading to the second floor.

"Bea and Allie can sleep in the guest room, but if I hear one suspicious noise, I'm coming in and I'm interrupting whatever horny activity going on. You have been warned."

"Say you?" Bea replies sarcastically.

"You would rather I don't interrupt you and have everyone hear you? It's your choice, Red, but I don't think you understand how serious I am."

Bea looks utterly horrified, but Allie grins widely like Franky just spoke a language she is fluent in.

"Maxie and Booms, you can share the master room. The bed is more than enough for the both of you. Booms, if anything happen to Maxie during her sleep, it's your job to save her life. Just barge in here and scream, and I'll do the rest."

Boomer nods, taking her role seriously, while Maxine shakes her head amusedly at Franky's orders.

"You know I only have one medical appointment left, right? And then they're transferring me to another hospital for another small follow-up until they officially declare me to be in remission. It's all mandatory, but my doctor said there is no trace of cancer anymore."

"Of course, that's why we're here to celebrate. And that's why you're leaving us," Franky says dramatically. "For the other side of the world. Never to be seen again. Now that you don't need us anymore. Throwing us away like we're garbage."

"But at least I'm going with her," Boomer interrupts. "Maxie and I are inseparable."

"And we're just going next town," Maxine says softly, "No need to be so tragic, we will still see each other."

"You're both missing the point here," Franky deadpans. "The point is, I'm going to miss having your beautiful faces around."

"You've gone soft on us," Maxine laughs. "The Franky I met at Wentworth never would have said that."

Franky scoffs like Maxine's words are beyond ridiculous and she points at the rooms, silently telling her guests to go unpack. She watches them scatter around the house and jumps to the couch to set her bag on it. She sinks into the comfortable leather and lets her thoughts wander. Away from the city, there's no distracting sounds that she can use as an excuse to live in denial.

If she listens carefully, she can hear the muffled steps of Bea and Allie as they walk around the room and probably gawk at the stunning view they have of the lake. She can hear the sound of bags being thrown on the floor and the quiet voices of their owners that reach her despite the distance. She thinks she hears Allie laughs at something Bea says, and then she thinks she's gone deaf and she assumes they've gone quiet to unite their lips together.

She smiles at the thought that Bea is finally getting the life she deserves. There's only so much a person can go through before madness takes them over, and she's relieved that Bea never reached that point.

She closes her eyes and focuses her attention to the room that exists at the end of a long hallway. She hears Boomer's excited voice talking about camping and firecamps and how she's going to punch any creature that lurks in the dark forest around them. She smiles when she recognizes Maxine's playful tone responding that there are no such creatures in the dark, only for Boomer to yell that she is an expert at martial arts and that Maxine shouldn't be damn scared too.

Franky hopes they thrive in that other city, even though her heart aches a bit more than she'd like to admit it. There's the familiar threat of loneliness just around the corner, and she'll spend her entire life taking detours to avoid meeting this familiar enemy.

Months ago, she couldn't trust anyone. And today, she would give her life for these women.

There's something magical about it, if she thinks of it. Something impossible about this situation.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and messages Bridget quickly, telling her that they have arrived safely and that the cabin hasn't been set on fire yet. Her smile is made of joy when she receives a quick message that tells her to be safe and that she is trusted not to burn the building to the ground.

She is trusted.

No matter how many times she's told those words, it still makes her feel warm inside.

When the group comes back, Franky quirks an amused eyebrow at them. Boomer wears enough layers to be protected against all the mosquitoes in the world while Maxine wears a single t-shirt with a small scarf around her head. Bea shyly glances around while Allie grins brightly.

"Are you wearing matching shirts?" Maxine teases, poking's Bea's shoulder.

Bea doesn't reply, but Allie nods eagerly, pointing at the same tiny seahorse's shape on their different colored shirts.

"How did this happen?" Boomer asks in disbelief. "You're whipped now, eh Bea?"

"Oh, piss off," Bea responds with a light smile. "I'm not. I'm just…"

"Whipped," Maxine finishes quickly, cracking up with Boomer.

Bea rolls her eyes, but the feeling of Allie's hand in hers makes her think that, maybe, just maybe, her friends might have something right.

Franky jumps off the couch and directs them outside. The sky is starting to darken already, giving the sky a dark blue shade and, even though they just drove a full three hours to get here, they're not tired. They will spend two days in this heavenly place, and they don't want to waste their time sitting inside, no matter how beautiful the cabin is.

"What do we start with?" Allie asks curiously, eying the dock from which she could jump into the water. There are two kayaks resting on the grass a bit on the side. There are also many smaller paths that disappear into the forest, no doubt leading to greater views. In the distance, she thinks she can see that the paths circle around the lake.

"We can just sit by the fire tonight," Franky suggests, taking a pack of beers with her. "It's dusk already. It'll be too dark to be on the lake and it's already too late to hike, unless you want to transform into the bugs' meals."

They all agree on the fire, and by the time they carry enough chairs outside for them to sit on, Franky has assembled a high pile of logs in the middle of a small circle of rocks. She adds a few pieces of papers and thinner branches. She completes everything with a mix of grass and smaller bits. She lights a match and carefully starts the fire.

It starts slow, almost dying at the first breeze carrying deathly air currents, but it strengthens and gains heat, and soon enough, it's creating sparks that reaches the larger branches. The flames lick the logs avidly, tasting the dry wood and forcing it to fall in love with their scorching heat. Within minutes, a tower of smoke reaches for the sky and different shades of red and yellow are uniting to consume their surroundings.

There's not a word at first, each woman too busy staring at the small volcano dancing before their eyes.

Boomer thinks that this must be the long-awaited adventure of a lifetime and that she wouldn't trade places for anything in the world. She takes a sip of her cold beer and savors its taste and the buzz that appears in her body.

Maxine thanks the skies that she's still here to appreciate the fresh air and the snarky mosquito bites. She wants the itches and the sunburns and the small, annoying pains of life. She'll take them any day over the one time she couldn't feel anything but torture in her body.

Franky claps her hands together a few times and snaps a quick picture to show Bridget the result of her work. She's incredibly proud of herself and she sends ten pictures to her girlfriend, without thinking about the fact that they all look exactly the same.

Allie stares dreamily at the fire, remembering that the last time she saw one as fierce as this one, it was in Bea's eyes when they went to file the report. She wants it to burn forevermore.

Bea feels the heat and her body buzzes under the idea that the logs represent her nightmares, going off in flames and being carried to the edges of the Milky Way. She sets her worries free and focus on the present.

"This feels good," she declares to the group. "Just being here."

"Doesn't it?" Franky replies cheerfully. "The first time Bridget brought me here, I couldn't believe it. I ended up almost drowning on a kayak tour, but it was fun."

"You never told me that!" Boomer protests, immediately getting up. "I'll destroy those death machines!"

She takes one step in the direction of the kayaks before Maxine's arm stops her from going farther.

"Sit your ass down, it was probably Franky's fault."

"Did you try to race Bridget?" Allie asks curiously.

"I would have won if that duck hadn't shown up out of nowhere!" Franky growls. "Animals."

"Oh yeah," Allie nods exaggeratedly. "How dare they live in the middle of a lake where there are no humans around them…"

Franky throws a bottle of beer at Allie's face, only for the blonde to catch it expertly and uncap it in a fluid movement.

"You don't wanna mess with me," Allie warns with an elusive smile.

"You really don't," Bea adds, falsely threatening Franky.

"No offense Bea, but you're a baby. You have no chance against me."

"That's not what happened on the beach, if I remember correctly," Bea recalls.

"That was one time!" Franky protests. "One unique time. I'll get my revenge."

Bea hums and shrugs, immune to Franky's threats.

She smiles contently while Franky tries to add a few logs to the fire. They are in the middle of nowhere, she thinks, and yet this scene still feels incredibly appeasing. Domestic, even. Like they're just one big family and they've been living here since the creation of this planet.

She doesn't want to go back to the city and be trapped again on the highway of her responsibilities, but she knows she has no choice. There's her daughter waiting, and the debts she still has to pay back, and the fact that she needs to await the most stressful trial of her life.

She pretends there's a shooting star above her and she silently wishes that her tomorrows remain better than all her yesterdays.

"When are you leaving?" Bea breaks the silence with a loaded question.

She hasn't had the information for a long time. In fact, this whole weekend had been planned at the very last minute after an erratic phone call with a breathless Franky rambling about everything that she had just been told by Boomer.

Maxine had gone through a successful surgery and a mix of tests that all came back clear. She'd been transferred to another facility across the country to meet another doctor, who could do a reliable follow-up with the latest technology. She'd hesitated a long time before accepting, feeling like she would abandon her safety net to catapult herself into the unknown, but she'd eventually accepted that, no matter which direction she chose, she wouldn't lose the love that was given to her.

Boomer had been kindly asked that she finds a new place to stay because the shelter couldn't welcome her forever. She had momentarily panicked, feeling like she was back on track to lose this unfair game that is life, until Maxine had called her on a gloomy day to ask her if she'd consider moving to another city. She had accepted immediately, not thinking of the consequences at the moment, simply focusing on the fact that there was no way she would ever leave Maxine by herself.

It had been the only choice, the only option for Boomer. There had never been another road for her to follow.

Bea had been sad, and then devasted, to hear that she'd lose them.

No.

Not lose them, but still close enough, too close.

She'd slowly accepted destiny, but it didn't mean that she had to like it.

Had it not been for these women, she wouldn't have made it so far, she's sure of it. She wouldn't have appreciated Wentworth as much, she wouldn't have gone to her daughter's side across the ocean, and she wouldn't have gotten an apartment so soon.

They aren't just her friends. They aren't just her family. They are the air around her, the ground underneath her feet and the blood in her body. They are the proof that life doesn't stop when her mind tricks her into believing that she's six feet under. They are everything.

"We'll stay for another week so I can go to my last appointment here, and then we're moving," Maxine explains.

"And when are you coming back?" Franky asks, mid-serious with a small laugh.

"Soon!" Boomer claims loudly, slamming her foot to the ground and raising a small cloud of dust. "I'm not leaving you for too long. You know I won't."

"But not too soon, right Booms?" Maxine directs softly. "You told me you'd try to find a job first."

"Yeah. I need money to come back here to visit Franky," Boomer explains wisely. "And Bea too. And even you, Allie. I haven't known you for long, but you taught me a lot, you know. Sex… and sex."

There's a wild laugh that comes out from Allie's throat as she raises her beer to cheer to Boomer's words.

"Don't remind Bea or she'll crawl under a rock," the blonde giggles.

"I won't," Bea mutters under her breath, making everyone else laughs harder.

The laughter disappears slowly as the fire loses its energy. The darkness covers the group like a velvety blanket, and they find themselves wrapped in the universe itself.

Nostalgia hits them all at once, and the air becomes thicker, trickier to breathe.

Boomer swallows the insults she wants to throw at the emptiness around them, because how dare it exist, how dare space exists, if it will only keep them apart? She made the decision to move away to be with Maxine, but she wishes she could bring everyone along.

Maxine feels like the air is made with particles that add a heavy weight to her chest. It makes her heartbeat irregular and a little more painful, and she knows for a fact that it isn't due to a physical condition this time.

Franky looks at the fire until her eyes hurt, and only then does she allow herself to blink. That way, if she cries, she can blame it on something other than her own feelings. She kicks a log with the tip of her feet and a river of sparks flows through the air, decorating their surroundings with a cloud of ephemeral fireflies.

Allie's smile is still lingering in her lips, but it's gone by the time she takes in the lost eyes of the people around her. She finds herself thinking of this group, this marvelous crew that she ended up being a part of against all odds. She's had friendships and lovers in the past, but none of them ever made her feel like she does right now, like she belongs, for now and forever.

Bea feels nothing but love when she looks up and loses herself in the raven firmament. She'd never thought she deserved love. She'd never thought she would find friends. She'd never believed in herself, never believed that she would make it on her own. She'd lost her confidence too long ago and she'd struggled with her own mind for an eternity. Until today. Today, she feels loved and she knows she's worthy of everything she has.

"I'll be sad without you," Franky confesses gently to the two women who she considers to be her best friends. "But you go and conquer the world for me, yeah? And Booms, no more violence, yeah?"

I'll be a little sad, and a little lost, and a little distressed, but I don't want you to stay if you'll find yourselves somewhere else.

"Oh, love," Maxine sighs, caressing Franky's head gently. "I'll miss you too. I'll never stop missing you. You changed my life."

"I never had friends before," Boomer declares absently, looking at Franky with tears in her eyes. "You were the first one to not… look at me like I was shit. You didn't judge me for being me."

Franky's lips curl up to a lively grin.

"Don't you dare cry, Booms."

"You shouldn't have said all that crap!" Boomer complains as a single tear rolls on her cheek. She waves her hands in the air like it's going to make everything better. "It's your fault! Not mine! Fuck off!"

Franky moves her chair closer to Boomer's.

"I'm gonna miss you, alright?" she whispers quickly, forcing the tears away from her eyes.

"Then, just come with us! Why don't you come with us?" Boomer accuses quickly.

"I have… someone here," Franky smiles gently. "And a job that I love. And it doesn't mean you're not important to me. Both of you," she adds as she glances to Maxine.

Boomer shakes her head quickly, the heaviness of the moment finally crashing onto her. She clenches her fists and for moment, it seems like she's going to start a fight with the fire.

"Just think of puppies, Booms," Franky murmurs loud enough for everyone to hear. "Puppies and jelly. Remember? The first time you wanted to hit someone at Wentworth?" She turns to Bea and Allie. "You weren't there, but I told Booms to think of that, and it just… worked wonders. Strange, isn't it? Who would have thought!"

"Puppies and jelly. I get this picture in my head of puppies jumping around in jelly and they're all mushy and cute and sticky. Then I don't go bunta anymore," Boomer explains, satisfied with herself and the images popping in her head, sadness drifting away slowly.

"Puppies and jelly?" Bea repeats, blinking a few times.

"Nah, you got it all wrong. It's not just puppies and jelly. That's boring. It's puppies jumping around in jelly," Boomer repeats confidently, her smile wide and her eyes glittering.

Bea nods understandingly, like she knows that Boomer is speaking the truth.

"Tell me more about where you got that idea," she throws at Franky. "I'm curious about what you had in mind for that to happen."

The wind smells like campfire, the lake looks like the darkest mirror, and the shadows dancing around strangely reminds her of an enchanted forest from another realm. There are birds tweeting harmonious melodies, and there are burning stars rotating far above her head, and everything about this moment is wild and exciting and full of wonderful possibilities.

Boomer is laughing until she can't breathe anymore, and Franky is staring at her with constellations in her eyes, and Maxine is still trying to hide the waterfalls lurking behind her eyelids. Everything and everyone feels real and authentic, and Bea wonders if this is the end, or the beginning, or just time following its course and proving her that she made the right choice to never give up.

She turns her head to look at Allie, only to realize that the bluest eyes are already shining at her with admiration.

She smiles the way someone does when they're hopelessly and irrevocably in love.

This is happiness.

---

Well, I got busy with life and I make no promises on when the last two chapters will be released, but I hope you'll all be around to read them.

Thank you for reading!