Pounding and pulsing woke Alison from her rest, a hangover. Again. She drank often, but last night with Beth was more than she would usually intake. With a groan she sat up, trying to massage her forehead. It took a few minutes to open her eyes, when she did the room was empty. Alison was alone; Beth had left, the clothing she wore folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Oh Christ, Alison thought, did she leave already? Of course she did, Beth wasn't ever one to stay for too long. Sighing, Alison made her way to the kitchen for coffee, and a few pills for her migraine. It was only 7am, but it felt like 12, she definitely needed the coffee to brew faster. Having asked Donnie to call her in the morning the night before, she sought out her phones. No call from Donnie (of course) and two unread texts on her pink phone. More importantly, two texts from Beth.

Before thinking twice, and without hesitation, she sent a reply.

Yes.

With that, Alison lift a freshly brewed cup of coffee to her lips and set off with the day. Somehow seeing that Beth wanted to meet later tonight brought her some comfort.

Beth watched from across the street as Paul locked up their apartment and drove off. She walked briskly, having parked a few streets away so he wouldn't know she was around, blending in unnoticeably to the people that already walked the streets. She needed a dose or two of her medicine, something to calm her down more than the weak crap she'd had in her car, and since Paul and her weren't on talking terms at the moment, she had to sneak in to get them; maybe a change of clothing too. A shower wouldn't hurt, but she didn't want to risk Paul finding her just yet. If they were going to talk it would be on her terms.

Her phone rang, Art, again.

"Detective Childs." She answered in her monotone voice, hiding her annoyance as she changed clothing.

"Where are you? You're car wasn't underground or up top."

"Wow Art, stalking me now? None of your damn business anyway."

"I'm picking you up. Where are you?"

"At home, changing. I'm not an invalid, you know, I can drive myself."

"Yeah right, Beth. Look I'm going to buy-" that was when Beth stopped listening, when she had the living shit scarred out of her.

"Beth." Paul's voice interrupted her phone call as he stood in their bedroom doorway. "Where did you go last night?"

"Shit. Art, I'll call you back." Hanging up the phone, she quickly buttoned her shirt, stare not breaking with Paul's.

"Well?"

"What do you want, Paul? I'm busy." She muttered sharply, entering the closet to grab the case files she had brought home from work. All she was doing was killing time, waiting for him to get out of the way.

Paul didn't move, however, slowly his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowing down on her.

"I asked you a question, so answer me."

"No."

"That's not an answer, now tell me."

Beth tried to push her way past him, knowing fully it would only annoy him, but she wasn't exactly thinking in her straight mind. Beth was high, sleep deprived, and pissed.

"Get out of my way, Paul."

"No you damn bitch." Paul spat on her as his arms pushed her up against the bedroom wall, his forearm pressing deep into her throat. Not even able to struggle, Beth withheld a groan, not wanting to show any weaknesses. That's what she was trained to do as a cop, show no weakness, even against Paul she wanted to stay strong.

"Tell me, and you might be able to make it out of here without a beating." He always threatened, and Beth never caved in, so she'd always get the beatings.

"Go to hell."

"Fine." With the arm that wasn't against Beth's throat, Paul started punching her ribs, then her stomach. Beth tried pushing him off, but the lack of oxygen from not only her airway being crushed, but being punched out of her, made her struggle seem pointless. Paul had only hit her three times before he threw her to the ground, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

"Start talking." He demanded, making his was over to her. Beth had crawled backwards, her ribs already aching, trying her best to regain some strength.

"Go to hell, Paul."

"Fucking bitch." Paul charged her, his knee going to his chest before he delivered a deep crushing kick with his boot into her ribs again, even with her arms in the way, it still hurt. He kicked again and again, Beth crying out in pain when she was certain a rib had broken. Spitting on her, Paul stopped and sat on the edge. There was no way Beth would stand up, he thought, it would take her time to recover. "You call yourself a detective, you're nothing more than a piece of shit. Probably some lying whore too."

Closing her eyes, Beth prayed Art would show up any minute now and lock this bastard away for good. This wasn't the first time he'd beaten her, or broken her bones. When she was sure Paul had had enough, Beth waited until he wasn't fully paying attention. She sprung from the ground, trying her best to ignore the searing pain that emitted from her side, and delivered a swift punch to the side of Paul's head, knocking him onto the bed, probably stunned.

Beth made a run for the door, her hands on the handle as he sent her flying into the wall with a tackle. Paul straddled her waist and began hitting her, slamming her head into the floor. There was no comparison in their strength, Paul was stronger than her by far. Feeling entirely helpless and full of pain, Beth began struggling to stay conscious, her hands trying their best to punch Paul away, but never seeming to do any damage. All he had was a bloody lip, while she was certain she was far worse. Which she was.

A pounding on the door was the only thing that stopped Paul, as he jumped up, spying through the window. It was Art. Damn it. He pushed Beth's limp body behind the door, wiping his mouth as he opened it.

"What do you want, detective?"

"My partner, where is she?"

"I don't know, if you see her let me know." Paul growled out, keeping the doorway blocked so Art couldn't make his way in (which he was trying to do).

"How'd you split your lip?"

"I fell." Paul smirked, blatantly lying.

"Beth said she was here.. You weren't fighting with an officer, were you?"

"As I told you, I fell." He response cooly. "I came back to change my clothes, she wasn't here. We had an argument last night and I haven't seen her since then."

"Alright." Art didn't seem too convinced by Paul's story one bit, but had no way of proving it.

"I'm leaving for work, if you see her tell her I want to talk." Paul stepped outside, locking the door behind him. Art just stood there, watching as Paul walked to the curb, where he had parked.

"Oh, and Art, if I find you've trespassed into my apartment, you can bet your ass you will be suspended." Art crossed his arms, slowly descending the steps, a smirk on his lips as well. "I'd love to see you try. Guess I'll give calling her another shot."

Paul drove away, and Art sat in the black and white which he drove over, pulling out his cellphone he dialed for Beth. No answer.

Groaning, Beth rolled onto her side, coughing up and out blood. How long had she been unconscious, and where was Paul? She didn't think she was even able to stand, but somehow winced her way to the bathroom. She didn't even care anymore, if he was going to beat her for moving, there was nothing she could do to stop him. Swallowing nearly the whole bottle of painkillers in one sitting, Beth turned on the shower water, slowly undressing herself. She needed to clean herself up before Art got there, if he was still even coming. The water was mainly to wash any blood off her skin, to help her hide any marks left by Paul. Was he drunk? He wasn't usually that bad. Her stomach already had deep purple and yellow bruises forming, and all across her chest. Thankfully with her job she didn't need cleavage showing, so she shut the water off and head to the closet. The painkillers must have started working, because she couldn't feel the ache that spread throughout her body anymore, even if her muscles weren't responding as fully as normal.

Clothed, Beth grabbed the empty bottle of medicine and headed to her car with no intention of returning home. She didn't need or want anything from inside that hell hole, as Alison had so colourfully put it. Even in the midst of everything that happened that morning, Beth managed a genuine smile. The first in ages, and it was because of Alison. Driving away as quickly as she could, Beth needed to stop and get a refill of her painkillers before going to work. At least with Art she was safe, since she was still suspended for the civilian shooting. In the scuffle with Paul she had lost her work phone, the other had been left in her car. Alison was still on her mind, which made her think about checking it, to see if she had responded. She did, and to Beth's relief she said yes; it was almost as if Beth's day did a complete 180, having turned into a good day in a matter of minutes. Paul was gone, and now she was safe, soon to be around people she trusted.

How about now?

She was already AWOL, she should make the best of it. Before even getting a response, Beth headed towards Scarborough, anticipating a yes.