Getting drunk wasn't as liberating as Julia had hoped. After her first few drink she stopped flirting with the local lad supplying her alcohol and just sat there, drinking whatever they gave her and trying not to be sick. She'd hoped that getting drunk would make her happy – he was always happier after a few beers – but it just made her want to start weeping again. Her anger at Al had disappeared as quickly as it had come, and now she just felt…deflated.

"Go on, Julia," the bloke next to her, she thought his name was Ross, coaxed, holding a tall glass of beer under her nose, "Have another."

She took it and tipped it forward, squeezing her eyes shut and chugging until she couldn't any longer as the lads around her cheered her on. She set the empty glass down on the table, feeling quite woozy.

"I…" she mumbled, tugging on the man's sleeve, "I need air."

Suddenly she was standing, then falling, and then Ross's arms were around her. "Alright then, love, that's it… Come on, let's get some fresh air."

Ross helped her outside and as soon as she took a breath of the salty air, she leaned over and was sick. Ross patted her back awkwardly, beginning to wonder if it was worth it.

He'd noticed her when he came in from the terrace, and thought that maybe this was his chance. He'd been intrigued by her since the day she washed up on the beach and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see her in her knickers once more.

"Let me take you home," he said, but she shook her head. She sagged against him, eyes closing. "I need to sit down." She mumbled. He helped her over to the nearest bench and she slumped down onto it, her head in her hands. Ross sat down next to her and leaned in close. "You are completely pissed," he chuckled, resting his hand on her knee and slid it upward. "Come on, I'll take you back to mine."

"No," she said, giving him a shove. "Get off."

"What?" Ross tucked her hair behind her ear. "Don't be like that."

Don't be like that, love…come here, it won't hurt if you stay still…

Startled by the sudden wash of memories, Julia jumped away from Ross and toppled over, flinging out her arm to break her fall. Pain shot through her wrist and she swore loudly…

Al had just gotten home and was staring at the television when his mobile rang. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it lazily, expecting a wrong number.

"Yeah?"

"Is this Al?"

"Yeah."

"Right, this is Ross."

Al rubbed his eyes, turning off the TV. Why would Ross be calling him?

"What d'you want?" he asked. He could hear music and laughter in the background. Probably drunk-dialling…

"Right well, I'm here with Julia and she's having some sort of melt down. Wanted me to call you. Think you could come down to the pub and pick her up? I think she might need a strong cup of coffee and a nap…"

Al hung up and ran to the door, pulling on his boots and grabbing the keys to the van. He knew he should've gone after her…but oh no, he had to stand there fighting with himself, like a complete tosser.

He pulled up to the pub and jumped out, rushing inside. He found Julia out on the terrace, sitting at one of the tables with her head in her hands. Ross and a few other lads stood around her, looking as uncomfortable as happy drunk boys could look.

"Julia," Al knelt down in front of her and took her head in his hands. "Okay, girl?"

"She hurt her wrist," Ross told him. "Fell off a bench."

"Can I see?" Al asked her, taking his hands away from his face. She extended her left arm and he gently pulled her sleeve up. Her wrist was swollen and turning a nasty shade of purple. "Well that's not good, is it." he mumbled. Then he straightened up and looked at Ross.

"Thanks...for calling me." he said stiffly.

Ross nodded, equally civil.

Al slid one arm around Julia's waist and the other under her legs and lifted her up, carrying her out of the pub and to the van. She clung to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she murmured shakily, "for kissing you."

Al said nothing, trying to ignore the twinge her words had given him. They reached the van and he got her settled in the passenger seat, then climbed in the driver's side and headed for the surgery. It occurred to him that he had no idea what to tell the doc. He'd probably never trust him with her again if he said, 'I sent her home by herself in the dark after kissing her and making her cry'. Perhaps that would be for the best, though.

When they got to the surgery, Al carried Julia around to the back door and awkwardly wrapped his knuckles on it. Martin had been sitting at the table reading a medical journal, and when he opened the door he felt an odd sense of relief – he'd been a bit worried, though he would never admit it – but the relief soon disappeared when he realized that Julia did not look well.

"What happened?" Martin barked, standing aside to let Al carry her inside. He laid her down on the sofa carefully. "She went a little overboard at the pub," Al said, trying to sound casual as he brushed her hair off away from her face. She was half asleep, nursing her left hand against her chest.

"Why is she holding her wrist like that?" Martin inquired.

Al went to answer, but Julia opened her eyes and croaked, "I fell down. It's not his fault. Don't be angry…"

Martin softened. "I, um…of course not. You're a teenager, it's to be expected." he said gruffly. Then he turned to Al. "But I expected more from you, Al. I think it's best if you leave now."

Al hesitated.

"You can come back in the morning." Martin said, and Al seemed to relax a little.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you tomorrow, girl." he nudged her foot and she mumbled a groggy goodnight.

Once Al was gone, Martin pulled up a chair in front of Julia and took her arm, inspecting her swollen wrist.

"Is it broken?" she asked thickly. She rubbed her face with her good hand clumsily, obviously trying to stay awake.

"I don't believe so," Martin answered. "Just a bad sprain."

"M'kay…" Julia mumbled. Martin left to get a wrap for her wrist from the surgery and when he returned she was fast asleep. Martin sighed. He wrapped her hand and covered her with a blanket, tucking her in nice and cozy, then settled himself in the armchair, picking up his book. He'd just be coming down to check on her every fifteen minutes anyway, might as well save himself the trips.

Julia woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache but an even worse pain in her hand. Holding it close to her body, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was alone in the living room, wearing the same clothes from the day before (now crusted in areas with sick) and her hair looked shockingly similar to something a cat would cough up. She struggled to sit up and inspected her hand. The wrapping was starting to become undone, the swelling having gone down considerably, and beneath it the skin was discoloured. She made a face and got to her feet, stumbling upstairs to the bathroom. Once she had a bath and dressed in a pair of soft jeans and an oversized yellow happy face t-shirt Mark had given her when she first arrived ("To make every day a happy one!") she went downstairs to make herself a cup of coffee. Martin was in the kitchen, and he re-wrapped her wrist before sending her out to the waiting room, where Pauline was playing an online poker game.

"Here, organize those." She said without looking up, thrusting a tin of water-stained papers at her. Julia took them and sat down on the floor, dumping them into a pile. Normally she didn't mind the petty tasks Pauline have her, but today nothing could take her mind off the night before. Not the drinking and making a fool of herself…but the other stuff. The stuff that mattered. She replayed the whole thing in her head over and over again, and each time it got more painful. The things she said, the way she'd screamed at him…she hadn't wanted him to know about the scars. She'd wanted to keep him in the dark, keep him away from those dark secrets. It was almost funny actually – he was upset because he felt like he violated her with the kiss, and she was upset because she felt like she corrupted him with all of her dark twistedness.

"Here, Julia," Pauline said, interrupting Julia's thoughts, "Since you're no longer afraid of your shadow, you can go down to the chemist and get some supplies."

Julia said nothing, getting to her feet. Pauline handed her a list and Julia took a couple deep breaths before stepping out into the sunlight.

She met Al at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped, her heart jumping, and she felt an inexplicable need to fix her hair.

"Hi," Al said, seeming slightly dazed. Julia tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and mumbled,

"Hi."

"How's the hangover?" he asked, smiling a little. She shrugged, returning his smile.

"Fine. I'm…I'm off to the chemist." She shifted her weight from foot to foot. She couldn't look at his face without remembering how his lips feltagainst hers and the look in his eyes when she lifted her shirt and showed him exactly how damaged she was.

"Oh. Do you want some company?"

"Um…sure."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, then suddenly Al took her hand and pulled her into a narrow alley. For a moment Julia thought Al was going to kiss her, and her heart starting beating rapidly in anticipation. He was standing just a few inches away from her, close enough that she wouldn't even have to reach to pull him against her.

He'd had a speech prepared when he dragged her into the alley, but now that she was standing there in front of him, all he wanted to do was kiss her. Not that wanting to kiss her was anything new – he always wanted to. But with her standing so close he could smell her shampoo, it was kind of hard to think of anything else. He put his hands on her waist and pushed her gently against the wall, bending down to kiss her harder than he meant to. She snaked her arms around his neck and he ran his hands down her waist, over her hips and down her thighs, pulling her against him. Kissing Julia was…different. There was a strange desperation, a need he'd never experienced. A spark inside his chest that had never ignited until now.

"Al," she murmured, breaking away. She took his head in her hands, opening her eyes. "You can't keep doing this."

"What?" Al said thickly, kissing her neck. She pushed him gently and he raised his head. Stroking her hair, he realized what she meant. "I'm sorry. For everything I said…"

"You were right," she said quietly, "It was wrong. Pauline…"

"Yeah…yeah it was." Al agreed, but he didn't let go. She didn't want to, either, but she did. She pulled away and took a step back. "We just have to…we just have to stop. Before…before I fall even more in love with you," she said in a rush, looking at the ground. Al frowned. "What?"

Julia rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. "Don't make me say it again. Just…just leave it, yeah?"

And for the second time, she turned and walked away from him, fighting tears.

Dear readers,

Sorry for such a long wait! I hope you liked this chapter and it wasn't too jumbled. I sort of *ahem* forgot where I was going with it due to sudden family drama, but I think I've got it back on track. Thanks for sticking sticking with me this long!

- pensandpaper13