We're getting close to endgame here, folks, I think. Unless I keep going past where I planned... oh... and don't hate me after this one.

When it was all said and done and Karma looked back on it, she knew that was the moment.

When she was able to look back on it, on that weekend, on that day, on that moment, the one where she was overcome with anger and passion and rage and sadness and… Amy… when it was all finally out in the open (or whatever the hell passed for open with them) and she grabbed Amy's face and kissed her as if her life depended on it?

Karma knew.

When she was finally able to think about it again later (much later) when it wasn't so fresh and it wasn't so raw and she could think about something other than undoing it all because it was (clearly) the biggest mistake of her life, Karma knew it was that moment. It wasn't 'I'm engaged', it wasn't confessing in the middle of the night, it wasn't overhearing Amy and Lauren and realizing the truth.

It was kissing Amy in the street.

That was what fucked it all up.

Which, when she was able to think about it (and really think and not just feel which is what got her in trouble in the first place), Karma realized that was pretty much (as in exactly) like every other kiss she and Amy had ever shared. Right back to the beginning, right back to the assembly and 'if we were faking would I do this' (the answer to which was, of course, yes and yes, Karma could see the irony there as clear as a fucking bell.)

Karma remembered it, remembered saying 'woah' but meaning 'woah' except she didn't know she meant that at the time (and yes, she knows that's bullshit but even later, even when it's all said and done and she's in Davis' bed and her tears are mostly dried, she's got to cling to something so it may as well be that.)

Technically, it wasn't her first kiss. That was… him. But it was in front of the school and it was in front of him (and later, when it's all said and done, she refuses to sully that memory with his name because somehow this is all his fault even if she knows that's not even a little true) and there was confetti and cheering and Lauren fuming and Penelope clapping and there was Amy.

There was Amy. Amy with her arms around Karma's waist and her hands on Karma's back and Karma can still (even when it's said and done) feel the rough fabric of Amy's sweater against her arms and the softness of her lips and she swears the beating of Amy's heart against her chest.

But that might just be her own.

When Karma looked back on it, on that moment instead of that other one (the one that fucked everything up, the one she can't think about without finding herself soaking wet and sobbing and somehow that seems… appropriate), that's what sticks out to her. Not the cheers or the crowd or Shane or Lauren or him.

Amy. Just… Amy.

And, of course, she thought later (so much later, when she could almost smile about it), of course there was Amy. Amy was there for everything. She was there for Karma's first crush and Karma's first real fight with her mother and for the death of Karma's Gam-Gam and the first time Karma cried over a boy who wasn't her fuckwit brother.

Amy was always there so of course Amy would be there for Karma's first kiss even if it wasn't really her first, though when Karma thought about it later, she always thought of that kiss, of Amy and the assembly and 'woah' and 'I know', as her first. Because it was. It was her first real kiss, the first one that meant anything because every kiss with Amy meant everything.

Like the one in that moment. On the street, pressed up against a brick wall with Amy's hands on her, sliding beneath her shirt, fingers burning against her skin. The kiss that made her moan as Amy ground against her and Karma let her own hands wander in ways she'd never dared before and she touched Amy. Not in new places (mostly) but in new ways. Not in comforting caresses or friendly holds or goofing tickles.

Karma's hands ghosted over Amy's body, teasing and testing and finding the spots that even there, in public, in front of so many nosy and busybody and (probably) turned-the-fuck-on eyes, would make the blonde shudder and grind against her harder and bring sounds growling out of Amy that Karma swore she didn't know anyone could make.

And that she desperately wanted Amy to make again and again and again.

The assembly had been their first kiss and there'd been the one in the quad and the one at the threesome that should've been a twosome and the one in the pool but that kiss was their first in so many ways that those others never were and Karma knew it meant everything.

And when she looked back on it later (much much much later) and begged Davis to hold her and to just hold her and not ask any stupid fucking questions, Karma knew what that meant.

That kiss did mean everything. The end of everything.

When she'd thought about it, and she'd thought about it a lot (more times than she liked to admit), Amy had never imagined it would be like that.

She'd kissed before. She'd kissed Karma before and she'd kissed girls before and even a couple boys (because Liam and Oliver and Felix were nothing if not boys). She'd kissed Reagan and she'd kissed Maisie and there might have been a couple others, in between, and maybe it had been more than a couple and maybe (even if she didn't admit it out loud and especially not to Karma) Amy even remembered their names and the feel of their lips and maybe even the ways they'd made her moan and scream (and the way she'd felt when she did the same to them) but none of them, not a single fucking one had ever been like that.

None of them had been like Karma.

And that made sense, in a way. None of them, not Reagan and not even Maisie, had been Karma. She didn't have history with them, she didn't have a lifetime of connection and a lifetime of pent up… everything... and she hadn't spent weeks and months and fucking years wondering what it would be like.

And then, on a NYC street she found out what it was like and it wasn't like she'd imagined. Not even a little.

When she'd thought about it (and she'd thought about it so many times since that first kiss in the assembly) Amy had never thought of it like that, like how it actually happened. She'd never imagined people going by and car horns and sirens in the distance and the unmistakable feeling of being watched and the even more unmistakable feeling of not fucking caring.

Amy had never, not in her wildest dreams or even in those quiet moments of loneliness before Reagan had come along and their relationship distracted her, when she was home alone and all she could think about was what Karma was off doing with him and how it should've been her and she saw it all in her mind and she couldn't not touch herself and imagine it was Karma's hands and Karma's fingers and fuck all even then it had never been like it was, there on that street.

It had never been that hot. It had never been that passionate and that was probably because Amy had never known how to imagine that, had never known what it could be like until after Reagan (and maybe after those others she might remember) and then Maisie. Before them, she'd only had love to imagine with. Sweet and tender and yes, so fucking good but nothing like raw and angry and passionate and… and… and…

Never with that much pain.

Amy had never imagined it hurting like it did. She'd never imagined kissing Karma (kissing her) and feeling that faint (or not so faint, really) pain in her chest. The pain of breaking up with Maisie even though, truthfully, she wasn't even entirely sure they had and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that because, really, all she was entirely sure of was Karma's tongue in her mouth, swirling back and forth and over hers and then darting back and teasing Amy's into chasing and then repeating the whole thing in Karma's mouth and Karma's hands sliding over her back and down to her ass and one coming around to her front and just barely, just floating over her breast and… fuck…

Amy had never thought about it like that. She'd never thought about it as sex (because still clothed and in public and not actually touching anything yet or not, it was so fucking sex) and she'd never thought of it as hot and dirty and she'd never thought anyone could make her cum with a kiss and hand and brushing of fingers and Karma hadn't yet, but it was so headed there.

And when she thought about it right then and there, because that not so faint pain wouldn't let her not think, Amy wondered how. How had she never thought of it like that. How had she never imagined kissing Karma could be so fucking hot and so fucking perfect and so much more than she'd ever imagined and still hurt so fucking bad?

She couldn't understand how she'd missed it because it made so much sense.

Kissing Karma had always been good. And it had always been so much fucking pain that Amy couldn't imagine anything hurting worse.

Until the next time.

Karma didn't want to stop.

It wasn't that the kiss was that good (though it was) or that she loved the way Amy felt against her (though she did) or that the thought of the people walking by and seeing them like that turned her on (though it did and she was so going to have to talk to Ash about that later.)

It wasn't any of those or, really, it wasn't just any of those. It was all those and it was something much simpler and much clearer and much more obvious.

Karma knew.

She knew what would happen when they stopped.

When she talked about it later, to Ash and to Davis and to Maisie, Karma was always struck by how precise, how accurate her knowing was. It was like she'd written the script and then typed it up and then edited and fine tuned it and gotten all the details just so.

Just so Amy.

She knew Amy would be the one to pull back first because she was the one with the reason to, even if that reason was on the opposite end of the country and that reason might not ever want to see her again. But that reason was still there, between them and not just in that fucking rock dangling between Amy's breasts.

So when Amy started to pull away, Karma held on. Her arms tightened around Amy and her hands fisted the blonde's shirt and she deepened the kiss, her lips finding Amy's tongue and sucking on it gently, the way she'd already learned the other girl loved, and Karma held the fuck on.

And it worked.

Just like Karma knew it would.

She knew Amy was at war. She knew her best friend so well, so inside and out that she could feel the conflict, the battle between everything she'd ever wanted and everything she had and Karma knew she could win that battle, even if for just a moment.

It was the war she wasn't so sure about.

But Karma knew Amy would still pull back, she knew she'd slip and fall back into the kiss and let Karma capture her bottom lip with her teeth and nip and tug and and moan and Amy would sink back into her, pressing her up against the wall again, her hands roaming across Karma's skin.

And when Amy did just that, Karma went with, breaking the kiss just enough to tip her head back and let Amy's lips find the soft skin of her neck, moaning as the blonde sucked gently just above her collarbone as Karma's hands tangled in her hair and held Amy to her.

But Karma knew it wouldn't last. She knew Amy would go that one step too far, that her desire would win out over her mind and (maybe) her heart and her hands would slip between them and fumble with the button of Karma's jeans and then inside them and she would touch Karma and Karma knew she wouldn't be able to hold it back and she would moan and cry out Amy's name and that, Karma knew, would be it.

And it was.

Amy staggered back. One step then two steps then three, each a perfectly predicted response as Karma tried to step towards her, trying to stay close, trying to keep Amy there with her.

But Karma knew. She knew even before she saw the way Amy's eyes darted from side to side and down to the ground and then focused on her hand (that hand) and even before her other hand moved to that spot on her chest, hovering over her shirt like it was on fire and the heat was just too much but she didn't care and she gripped that fucking rock through the fabric and her face twisted as if she was being burned but she didn't care and she held the fuck on.

Karma knew she couldn't keep Amy with her.

Amy was already gone.

"Amy. Please…"

When she'd thought about it, when she'd imagined it (so many fucking times even when she knew she shouldn't) Amy had heard those words.

Amy. Please.

Always from Karma and always moaned out, whispered into her ear as Amy's hands traced outlines of parts of Karma she'd never seen, never touched. Always soft and desperate and begging Amy to do what she would, to have her way with her, to make Karma hers.

Always.

Just another thing she'd never imagined right.

"Amy. Ple -"

"She said that," Amy snapped, cutting Karma off. "Maisie said that same fucking thing." She stared down at the ground between them, the three or four feet of alley separating her from Karma that might as well have been three or four feet of churning ocean or boiling lava or outer-fucking-space. "Amy, please. Please tell me this isn't what I think it is. Please tell me you're not…"

She trailed off but they both knew there were plenty of options to end that with. Tell me you're not with her. Tell me you're not fucking her. Tell me you're not cuddling her, sleeping with her, laughing at me with her.

Tell me you're not in love with her.

Karma leaned against the brick wall and tried not to think of how badly she wanted to say that one.

Amy put her head in her hands and her body shook with the sobs and Karma had to look away, to look out at the street and all the people passing by. So many of them had probably stopped and stared and watched but now, now that it was just tears and pain and Amy fucking breaking right in front of her…

No one even slowed down.

"I'll have to think about it," Amy said and Karma barely understood her through the tears, the way the words sputtered in the sobs. "That's what she said. I'll have to think about it. I asked her if this had to be… if we were... "

Amy threw her head back and screamed, slamming her fists against the air and Karma didn't move.

"I asked and she said she'd have to think about it and I know her, Karma. I know her." Amy looked at Karma then, her eyes wide open. "She said she has to think but she doesn't because she loves me and she's stupid when it comes to me and she'll give me another chance and all I have to do is show her I want it."

Karma wanted to ask. The question was on the tip of her tongue and all she had to do was spit the words out.

Do you? Do you want another chance?

She wanted to ask but she couldn't because she couldn't hear the answer because she already knew what it was so she didn't ask.

"All I have to do is show her," Amy said. "All I have to do is walk the fuck away and get on a plane and go fucking home." Her body shook again as she dropped to her knees in the street and Karma felt like she was dying right alongside her. "That's all I have to do," Amy sniffled.

And when Karma looked back on it, when she could, she knew just as she had in that moment, that Amy had, as Amy always did, left that one key bit out.

Walk away. Get on a plane. Go home.

And never see Karma again.

And when it was all said and done and Karma looked back on it, she knew that was the moment.

The moment she loved Amy enough to make the decision Amy never would.