She tried. She really did.

Karma tried so very hard to find the words, the right combination of consonants and vowels, of nouns and verbs, the sentences and paragraphs and plaintive pleas that would make Amy stay.

The ones that would make her want to.

Three times. Four times. Five and a sixth and a seventh, and not a one of them that amounted to much more than some version of Dear Amy.

Dear Amy

My Dearest Amy

My Friend

My Love

Aimes. My Love. I'm so sorry. I don't know why it took me so long.

Too long.

None of them worked, none of them said it, that thing that Karma knew was lurking there, somewhere, in her brain or her heart or her soul or her fucking toes. It didn't matter where it was. All that mattered was that she couldn't find it and the night was passing swiftly and she was running out of time

There was something there, Karma knew that. There were some magic words, some perfectly chosen turn of phrase that she'd never said, but she'd probably thought of before, when it didn't matter, when she wasn't ready, when she couldn't bring herself to admit it in her own heart, much less out loud.

She'd thought of it, she was sure, in those moments, but there was that block, that thing, that fucking wall in the way that kept the right words from coming and instead gave her 'not like that' and 'I never thought the way I loved you wouldn't be enough' and 'I can't.'

Can't.

Couldn't.

Didn't.

Karma was sure she'd thought of the words then, but she couldn't think of them now and so she went through one and then two and then three and four and five sheets of paper. She clutched the pen in her hand till her fingers were numb and she stared at the blank page (pages) in front of her until the white of the paper swam in the faint light from her one desk lamp.

And still those fucking words wouldn't come.

She stared at the paper and the desk and the wall and into the sorta-not-really-that-bright light of the lamp until she saw dancing dots of color and had to look away. She couldn't turn, she didn't dare spin around in her chair and look at her, at Amy, sleeping the sleep of the dead in the bed behind her.

She wanted to. Karma wanted nothing quite as much as to turn around and stare. She'd still be able to see Amy, even in the mostly dark. She'd still be able to see her, still be able to let her eyes trace over the curves and the angles and the slopes of her body beneath the one thin sheet.

Karma wanted to look. Fuck that, she wanted to jump from the chair and crawl back into the bed, beneath that sheet where Amy still was (she was still there, right then, she wasn't gone yet) and let her hands roam, let her fingers dance so slowly and gently along Amy's skin.

Again.

Karma had never imagined the… rush… (it wasn't the right word but she couldn't find any words just then and so it would have to do)... the way it would make her feel to touch Amy. To feel her and explore her and...

Fuck.

She'd gotten good at it - sex - over the years. With Liam and then with Davis and with the others she didn't want to think about, not with Amy so close. It was, she often thought, not unlike music, not that different from playing her guitar or learning the scales.

Practice makes perfect.

She'd gotten good at it but she'd never… felt it. Sure, she felt it when they did it to her, when Liam or Davis or one of the others was between her legs or on top of her or behind her where she couldn't see and she could pretend they were anyone.

(Like it was ever just anyone)

That, she had felt and that she had liked. Some (Davis) more than others (Liam) and some (Davis) she almost didn't have to pretend with. But she'd never felt a thing when she did it to them, nothing more than the way a musician might feel at soundcheck, tuning up, getting ready, a means to the ultimate end, a necessary step.

And then she'd touched Amy.

She'd never known it could be like that, not with another woman, not with anyone.

Karma couldn't turn around because if she did, she'd see her and if she saw her it would all play out again in her mind (like it wasn't already) and she'd never be able to resist. She'd remember the way Amy had… responded… and no… that wasn't right. Too clinical. Too impersonal.

The way Amy had moved, the way her body seemed to have a mind (or a soul) of its own as Karma touched and licked and kissed her way over every inch of it.

If she looked, she'd remember. She would remember the way Amy's nipples had stiffened, hardening against her tongue, the feel of it enough to turn Karma's tentative licks into something more, the way Amy's reactions had urged her on, suckling and nipping as her hand drifted down Amy's stomach.

If she looked, Karma knew, she'd remember. She would remember the way her fear and nerves had trapped her, the way her hand had traced back and forth and around Amy's waist and then just a little lower, just above where Amy so desperately wanted her to go. She'd remember the way Amy's hips ground against the air and her back arched and the way Amy's hands gripped her hair, pressing Karma tightly against her breast and every moan was more encouragement, urging Karma on.

She'd remember the way Amy had finally gripped her wrist and guided her hand down between her legs, pressing Karma's fingers against her slick folds as she moaned into her lover's ear.

"Karma. Please," she choked out. "I need you."

She knew… Karma knew that she didn't have to look to remember that. The feel of Amy on her hand, the warmth as she gently slid her fingers against her, the harsh 'oh' the escaped her best friend's lips as Karma's fingers found her clit, the whimper… almost a sob… as Karma sank one and then another finger inside of her, the way Amy's head tipped back and her eyes squeezed shut and her own hands moved to hold Karma's in place, not even needing her to move, not as long as she was there, inside her.

"Yes," Amy muttered. "Always yes."

Amy had already given her the most mind numbing orgasm of her life just minutes before but that was already a distant memory, that was already driven out of her mind by this new… moment… this new feeling… this new rush of knowing that it was her.

She had done this to Amy.

Karma knew she'd never forget that, and she knew she didn't have to look to remember it, just like she didn't have to look to remember… or not remember, as it were… the beginning.

The beginning, that first moment when she'd chosen to forget the speech and the grand dramatic gestures and just fucking kiss Amy (a fairly dramatic gesture itself, she figured) was a blank, and absolute fucking blank in Karma's mind. She didn't remember how it started, didn't remember what it was (instinct or desire or desperation) (all fucking three) that pushed her off that bed and across the room, what drove her to back Amy against the door and crash their lips together.

Karma had heard it described that way, had read it in some of those awful fanfics Ashlyn insisted on forwarding her. Crashed. Their lips crashed together. She'd always thought it was sort of silly, a ridiculous way to describe something that even at it's hardest was still soft and yielding and a sensuous give and take. She'd never gotten it.

She did now.

They had crashed. No. Collided. It wasn't gentle and it wasn't yielding, not in the least. They both pressed forward, leaning into it, neither of them giving so much as an inch. It had been so fucking long coming, neither of them were willing to back down, to let the other control. It was hard and forceful and there was no give and a whole lot of take, Amy capturing Karma's tongue between her lips and sucking on it while her hands found Karma's hips and pulled her in, trapping her, imprisoning her even as Karma pressed her back against the door, her hands roaming under Amy's shirt, her nails tracing tracks along the blonde's back.

Karma didn't remember the moment, the one she knew she had to have, the one that made her throw the speech away and attack. She didn't remember the decision, the ones she knew she had to have made, to risk losing Amy forever just to have her for one night. She didn't remember the words she was going to say or the thoughts that ran through her mind in the split second before she kissed Amy (only their second real kiss.) It's all a blank.

She just remembered Amy.

Karma remembered the feel of her, so soft and warm under her hands and then her lips and then all of her. So soft and warm and perfect and so fucking new and that's just fucking weird to her cause it wasn't the first time, it wasn't the first time she'd touched Amy. Before she'd pinned the blonde against the door, before she'd felt the dimples on Amy's back beneath her fingers, before she'd slowly dragged her tongue against Amy's bottom lip and then along the curve of her neck, tasting Amy's pulse against her lips, before all that, Karma had touched Amy a thousand times.

She'd held Amy's hand walking to and from school. Karma had cradled Amy in her arms, with the blonde's head on her chest while she cried for Reagan. She'd hugged her when they finally came back together after that summer, holding her a bit too long and and a bit too hard. She'd fallen asleep next to her and near her and woken with their legs tangled and their noses touching and their bodies pressed together so many times it should have been old hat. Touching Amy should have been familiar and comfortable and something like home.

It was like touching a stranger and Karma had discovered, rather quickly, that touching Amy in all those ways for all those years was nothing like touching her like that and she couldn't quite process that, couldn't quite figure out how to handle it.

It was Amy. She could see her face, the face she knew so well, better than her own, even as Amy pushed her back from the door, even as the blonde steered them toward the bed and Karma could feel her heart pounding in her chest (how could Amy not hear it?) and that feeling of anticipation bubbling in her stomach, the one she'd get sometimes before a kiss, when her eyes locked with someone and she knew (knew) what was coming and God, that had always been her favorite part, sometimes so much better than anything that had come after.

She knew it wouldn't be that way with Amy. Not a fucking chance.

But Karma could still see her and the sight of her was enough to keep it in her mind that this was Amy, the same Amy… her Amy… but it didn't feel like her, it didn't feel like the girl she'd grown up with and it was like meeting someone new but so much better (so fucking much better) because it was still Amy.

There was, Karma realized, an entire side to Amy, an entire other person she'd never known, one that Reagan had seen and those few… indiscretions… had gotten glimpses of and one that Maisie knew, probably as well as Karma knew her Amy.

And the thought of that? That she was meeting the whole, that the only thing they had never shared was disappearing with every kiss and every touch and every feel was almost enough to push Karma over the edge right then and there.

Her hands found the hem of Amy's shirt and the blonde raised her arms just long enough for Karma to tug it up and over her head and Karma knew she'd seen Amy like this so many times, in the locker room and in bikinis and just changing for sleep at night.

She knew that.

And none of that stopped Karma's heart from stopping at the sight of her, at the sight of those fucking abs she remembered from the threesome that wasn't (and had thought about so many times over the years), at the sight of Amy's perfect pale skin and the soft curve of her breasts and the way Karma could let her eyes linger and drift, flowing down to Amy's waist and the rounding of her hips…

Karma knew she'd seen it all before and even, if she was being honest, felt a bit of this before, a bit of the desire and the need and the fucking craving. But this was different.

Now she could. She could stare and she could crave and she could want (and she so fucking did) and she could dip her head to Amy's chest and let her tongue lash against the blonde's skin, she could dot soft gentle kisses down Amy's stomach, she could let her hands slip beneath the fabric of Amy's bra and feel her.

She could kiss and lick and taste because, for the first time, Amy really was hers.

Karma didn't remember how it started, but she knew she'd never forget that.

And that, she knew, was going to be hell later.

But hell was still a long way off, a night away at least, a lifetime maybe, Karma knew, if she gave into her worse angels, if she let her needs and her wants rule over her. And as Amy pressed her back onto the bed and straddled her, their hips grinding together, Karma knew she would, she knew that she'd give in and be greedy because it was Amy and she was there and every single touch and every single kiss and every single fucking look, like the one Amy was giving her right then, staring down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils dilated and dancing with promises of all the things she was going to do, was one more thing Karma knew she couldn't live without.

And then she saw the ring and she remembered. She remembered what it was (who it was) that Amy couldn't live without.

She held that ring in her hand and it didn't (somehow) burn. It was heavier than she would have thought and Karma had a brief moment, a split of a split second of an urge to slip it onto her finger, to claim it and the woman it was attached to for her own.

Karma looked up at Amy and the words came unbidden. "Do you want me?" It wasn't what she meant to ask, those weren't the words she wondered about. Of course Amy wanted her. Amy had wanted her since that first kiss, since 'woah' and 'I know', since every kiss and every touch that had come between then and now, all through Liam and Reagan and every pointless and forgettable fling either of them had ever had.

Even through Maisie.

Karma had no doubt Amy wanted her. She didn't need to feel Amy's grinding hips atop her or to see the hard diamonds of her nipples poking through her bra, or to hear the shallow gasps of breath that barely filled Amy's lungs to know that. For Amy, Karma was the undiscovered country, the Fountain of Youth, the Holy fucking Grail.

Amy wanted her in ways Karma couldn't even imagine and Karma knew that even before Amy nodded and though it wasn't the question she wanted answered, it wasn't what she needed to know, it was something, knowing that Amy wanted her, knowing that this perfect creature could find her desirable and a nod just wasn't fucking enough.

Karma needed the words.

"Do you want me?" she asked again as she tugged Amy to her, whispering the words into the blonde's ear. "Say it," Karma whispered. "Say yes."

Karma waited, her eyes shutting tight as she felt Amy's cheek brush against hers and then her hands… oh God, her hands… slipped under Karma's shirt and her fingers traced a soft trail up and up and up and then they were there, Amy's hands found her breasts and Karma moaned and her hips bucked and she could feel the smile, the self-satisfied grin that curled Amy's lips as she whispered in Karma's ear.

"Yes."

Karma's back arched up off the bed as those hands - Amy's hands - cupped and squeezed and all the breath left her body as Amy's tongue and her lips worked their way down the length of Karma's neck and that fucking rock came loose, the chain snapping and then Karma was letting it go as Amy guided her hands up over her head, pinning them there as she stared down at Karma.

"Yes," Amy said. It was no whisper then, it was loud and clear and so fucking true. "Always yes."

Amy wanted her, of that, Karma had no doubt and really, she never had.

Everything else…

But everything else was for later and now was for them and Karma pulled her hands free and brought them to cup Amy's cheeks as the blonde leaned in for a slow kiss, her tongue darting in and out, teasing Karma's as she tried to chase, another smile creasing Amy's lips as Karma moaned in both pleasure and frustration before pulling back, her hands on Amy's shoulders to keep their distance.

"Prove it."

There was a time when Karma thought she knew every one of Amy's looks. The exasperated (usually for her), the loving (always for her), the 'seriously, this is your plan' (no one but her), but the look that crossed Amy's face at that moment… she'd never seen that one and Karma knew if she had, she'd remember, either from the chill it sent up her spine or the racing of her heart or the warmth between her legs.

She knew, even before Amy's hands had finished yanking her top off, even before they'd popped the button on her jeans with a practiced ease Liam would have envied, even before Amy had slowly disappeared, slipping further and further down the bed with every tug on those jeans and her underwear with them, with every inch further they slipped down Karma's legs, she knew.

Amy was going to break her. In more ways than one.

Karma leaned back and stared at the ceiling cause there was no way (no fucking way) she could watch. She felt Amy pull her jeans and she raised her hips to help and then Amy stopped, the jeans still pooled around Karma's ankles and the redhead worried that something was wrong, that Amy had come to her senses, that she had -

And then there was a sound, something like a growl and then Amy was there, her hands on Karma's thighs, guiding them apart and Karma felt a warm rush of breath against her skin and then Amy's tongue flicking against her clit once and then again and then again and oh… fuck… her hands tangled in Amy's hair and her hips bucked up, fighting for more.

Amy was insistent and unwavering. Her hands left Karma's legs and trailed up her body, quickly finding the front clasp to the other girl's bra and popping it, her hands shoving the cups aside as they flowed over Karma's breasts, her thumbs brushing against sensitive nipples as she replaced her tongue with her lips, sucking on Karma's clit, determined to get her lover off fast and hard.

There would be time, Amy figured, for slow and gentle and long and teasing and taking her time to fucking feast on Karma (and now that she had a taste, Amy knew she'd need more) later.

Karma moaned at every touch and every lick and every suck, her hands in Amy's hair clenched into fists and she pulled the blonde even closer, grinding up and against her. It was all so good, so fucking right and so much better than anything or anyone else, but Karma needed… more.

She bucked her hips again, her hands pressing down and Amy took the hint, releasing Karma's clit and sliding her tongue down and along the length of her as Karma shuddered and hissed out a 'Fuck' as Amy brought one hand back down between her legs, rolling her thumb along Karma's clit as she slipped lower, spearing her tongue inside her and Karma arched up off the bed, her thighs brushing across Amy's cheeks even as the blonde swirled her tongue, desperate to taste every bit, every fucking drop of Karma.

It was too much. It was everything. Amy moaned into Karma as she squeezed her own thighs together and she knew it wouldn't take much, not even a touch, not with the feeling and the knowing, the visual and the feel and the taste of being inside Karma and Amy fucked her faster, wanting nothing more than to make her cum, to make Karma feel her and she brushed her thumb across the other girl's clit one last time and Karma exploded, moaning out Amy's name and that was all it took to drive Amy right past the edge and they came together with Amy's tongue inside her and Karma's hands tangled in her hair.

They had shared something, maybe the only thing they never had before and, maybe, Karma knew, the last thing.

She did turn around then. She had to. She turned and stared and soaked it all in as best she could, trying to commit it all to memory because Karma knew (she fucking knew) that was all it soon would be because no matter what she tried, no matter what she thought of, no matter what way she tried to say it, she couldn't find those words.

She couldn't find them and she knew...she knew she shouldn't. Those weren't her words anymore, they hadn't been in so very long. Maybe once upon a time, before Reagan maybe, before Liam perhaps, before the bus and the Pussy Explosion and 'I can't' definitely. Then, they had been her words, then she had had the right to say them, the right to ask Amy to stay.

She had. She'd asked.

And Amy had left.

And now Karma understood what she'd probably known all along.

Only part of Amy had ever come back. And yeah, that part wanted her.

But it loved someone else and all the proof Karma needed of that she'd heard in the call to Lauren, the brief moments when Amy showed the fear of losing Maisie, in those words Maisie had said to her so long ago on a tiny strip of beach.

Amy isn't sixteen and trying to find a life outside of you

No, Karma thought, she wasn't trying.

She had.

Karma knew why she couldn't find the words. Because they weren't hers. Oh, there were words, there were so many she could say, so many she could use and so many of them, she knew, would do exactly what she wanted. They'd make Amy stay. They'd make her break up with Maisie and they'd make her transfer schools and they'd make Ashlyn move out so Amy could move in and they'd make them soulmates (finally) in every fucking way.

She had the power. She knew she did.

But the words… the important ones… they weren't hers.

If Amy came back tomorrow and said she wanted you and wanted to marry you, would you take her back?

Is she here because she wants me? Or because you don't want her?

Would it matter?

Karma had expected a long silence, a deep moment of introspection and self reflection and thought.

She got three seconds.

"No," Maisie had said. "It wouldn't matter at all."

How do you tell someone what they mean to you when they mean everything?

That's how.

Karma stood from her chair and made her way to the side of the bed. She knelt on the floor, leaning against the mattress, as close to Amy's pillow as she dared.

"I've known you all my life," she whispered. "And I'll love you for the rest of it. But…"

She felt it before she saw it. The ring. On the floor by the side of the bed, one sharp point digging into her skin. Karma reached down and plucked it from the floor, turning it over in her hand.

"Only part of you ever came back to me," she said softly. "And that part… she's my best friend and she's my soulmate and…" Karma ran her thumb over the ring, watched the way the faint light from the lamp flickered against the diamond. "But you never would have taken this if you'd had even…"

She stood, quickly, moving fast before she changed her mind. She headed to the desk and grabbed up one of the papers, folding it over and scribbling hastily, while she still could, before the tears made it too hard to see the words.

Karma turned back to the bed, the ring in one hand, the note in the other. She knew what it was, what it said and what that would do. She knew she'd be spending the rest of the night with Davis, maybe the rest of the week or the semester or however long it took Ashlyn to find them another place, if she even could.

But there was no way Karma could ever come back here.

She set the note down first, resting it against the pillow next to Amy's. And then the ring, in front of it, nestled down into the mattress where it wouldn't fall off or get lost.

And then Karma looked down at Amy and she reached out a hand to brush her hair back out of her face but she stopped, her fingers inches away.

"You're my best friend, Amy. My other half. The salt to my pepper, the moon to my…" Karma pulled her hand back and shook her head. "But you're the love of her life. And she's the love of yours. And I love you but I can't…"

Karma's eyes found the note again, her hastily scribbled words so perfectly clear to her even in the dark. And then one last lingering look at the girl she knew she'd never see again and Karma slipped out the door and down the hall and disappeared out the front of the building and into the New York City night.

Amy awoke four hours later to sun streaming in through the curtains and an empty bed beside her, save for the ring and a note. The last two words Karma Ashcroft left her with.

Say yes.