EPICNESS!

Disclaimer: I own no one familiar to the movie. End of disclaimer.

Never thought that Lash and Layla had a past relationship beyond the movie? What? You never thought they could have been friends? Are you kidding me? Here! Have the story! My goodness, you've been missing out.

Past

"No." Her voice was cold, compared to the weeping and sadness dripping in her voice that started only an hour and a half ago. Amanda took a step back to glance at her daughter. "I don't want to see him. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not even next week." She was growling now, and she glared down at the tabletop.

How could he have done that? Lash? A villain? Was this some type of joke? How could he have done that? And to not even tell her about it? Layla shook her head. Of course he wouldn't have told her - she would have tried to stop him.

--

He threw his head onto the counter in front of him. Sarah sighed loudly into the phone line, her fingers tapping the table in front of her as she watched her son smack his head a few times on the desk. "Lash, stop." His breathing began again, and he dropped his shoulders, his forehead practically glued to the table as he moaned into the phone.

"No." He growled, his eyes peering up at his mother. She looked exceedingly disappointed. "I had a dream last night." Sarah sat up in her uncomfortable chair, staring at her son through the glass.

"Oh? What about?" His head lifted, and he used his left hand to keep his face up.

"Layla. She was mad at me. And I was at Sky High, and I had another self." Sarah nodded, clearly not really understanding his constant dreams. "And I was yelling at myself, shoving myself against the cement, yelling and screaming about how that was it, that was what Layla was going to be mad about." He shuddered, and groaned as Sarah gave him a confused look.

"I'm, lost."

"I know." He gave her one last stare before scribbling a note to her with a piece of paper in front of him. Slamming the phone down beside him, he stuck the paper against the glass, letting her read it quickly before he set off, knocking over his chair in the process of leaving the area.

"Tell Layla to show."

--

He was led back to his cell, and sat down on the bed, his personal guard sitting at the edge of it with a lost expression on his face. His name was Tipler Mackenzie, and Lash thought it was a bit strange to have a name like Tipler. But once he got to know him, Lash realized that his own name was a bit strange.

"What happened?" He asked roughly, his white handcuffs jingling together against his thigh. Lash gave the man a weak smirk, and turned his eyes away, out the small barred window. He somehow knew he was going to have a trusting friend at the jail - he just didn't know it was going to be a damned guard.

"The same as last week."

"Your mom know about how you like this girl?" Lash gave him a dark look. "Sorry - love?"

"Tha's better. And no, she doesn't. I mean we've been friends since she was in 2nd grade -"

"I know that."

"But I've practically loved her from the beginning. I just, didn't know it."

----

"Layla, someone's here to see you."

"Go away." She grumbled, her face smashed against a pillow. It's been about a week and a half now since Lash had been thrown in jail, and Sarah's been over many times, trying to get her to come along and visit. The door knocked loudly. "If it's Sarah, tell her I said no." The door opened wide, and she flung her body to the side. "Will." She breathed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I just came by to say sorry..." He whispered, shutting the door behind him, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Oh, Will, it's alright - you just don't know your own strength around me." She smiled, and self-consciously rubbed her bruised right wrist. He climbed onto the bed and kissed her, holding her face. Layla giggled about it until he started to crush her cheek, in which she had to cry out for him to stop.

"You see? I can't...I don't."

"It's okay. We'll try to get through this."

--

Sarah had a hidden plan that next day when she came over to have a 'group' to go see a movie. Amanda gave her that knowing look, and Sarah just rolled her tired eyes, the purple marks beneath them getting larger by the day.

Layla dared to ask about Lash.

"He's doing," she breathed out before she could continue. "Alright." Layla gave a tilt of her head, staring at the floor as Sarah and Amanda took to the kitchen. The girl smiled slightly, and ran up the stairs to get ready for the movie.

----

"I know what you're doing, Sare."

"Manda, Manda please. He's been begging to see her for forever. And I can't sleep, when I see him." She shook her head, running a hand through her long brown hair. "It just hurts me to see him beyond that damned glass." Amanda gripped her best friend's arms fiercely before speaking.

"She's not going to like this."

"I know." She shook helplessly. "But saying we're going to a movie was the best idea I could come up with. I haven't slept, Amanda!" Amanda gave her weak smile, and then hugged her.

"She's going to practically hate you, too, babe."

"And that's what I'll hate. It's going to be terrible."

----

"Where are we?" Layla asked, peeking out the back window. They turned a corner, and she gasped at the sign up ahead. "You lying sack of shit!" Quickly her fingers covered her mouth in shock, but she couldn't stop glaring at the rearview mirror, waiting for Sarah to turn around and look at her.

How could she? How could she lie!? They sped past the Jail sign and Layla crossed her arms, slouching in her seat.

"I'm sorry - but he's been asking for you since he got in there." The woman whispered, bringing a hand to her own face and wiping a tear that was forcing itself to fall. Layla didn't want to be here. Not now. Not ever. This was cruel punishment. And for what? Layla didn't really know.

----

"Lash brush your teeth. Brush your hair. Wash your face." Tipler muttered, his fingers tapping Lash's cell wall from the outside. Lash grunted, and shoved his hands back on his face, rolling onto his side on the bed to face the concrete wall. "C'mon, man!"

"What for. There's not point if there's nothing to do." Tipler chuckled, and then stood back, opening the cell door and stepping inside, tucking his keys back into his belt loop.

"She's coming today." In an instant Lash was on the floor, his face in the crusty mirror, scrubbing his eyes.

"Really? You're not just bullshitting me this time?" Tipler sat down on the bed.

"Whenever was I bullshitting you the first time?" He played with his fingertips as Lash took a comb to his hair, grumbling in loss and then scratched a hand through it, smirking.

"You told me last week that she was coming."

"I was talking about your mother, then, boy." Lash rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." He began to cross the room, shoving his shoes onto his feet and adjusting the stupid orange jailsuit. "When is she coming?"

"Pretty soon. They'll call you over the walkie." Just then, jumbled garbage flew into the air from Tipler's walkie-talkie, and he pressed the button like a regular police officer. "Copy that. Got the prisoner on sight. Be down in 3." Lash snickered loudly as he put his other shoe on, and hit the cell.

"Alright, lez-go!" He said enthusiastically, smirking down at the first floor below him. Tipler sighed, standing and unlocking the door after he took a hold of Lash's collar.

They passed a few guards, and Lash began to become jittery, jumping lightly and looking all ways around.

"You might wanna cuff this kid before he runs off." One warned, but Tipler just rolled his eyes.

"He's just excited." He snickered, and Lash kept looking down into the first floor.

"Ha, Lash, who you seeing today? You're Mom?" Lash snarled at the voice, and turned to pass his vision through Tipler. Jagger was smirking against the bars.

"No, actually." He smiled widely, sticking his tongue out at him. "Layla-'love'." Jagger's eyes widened, and he let loose a growl. Tipler once again rolled his eyes, and shoved Lash a bit forward, away from Jagger's cell. It was predicted that Jagger was going to be here for a while.

--

Entering the room he smiled, seeing as how he was one of the few people going to be on the phone with someone. He saw Layla by herself in the far corner, her eyes to the ceiling, the doors, the guards. And then Lash.

He watched her face pale even more than usual. She fidgeted a bit in her seat, and gave a weary look to the exit, and Lash grumbled to himself as he was led over to her. My mother had to drag her here, I bet, he thought, sighing as he was let go by the collar. He briskly walked over to his seat, sitting down silently.

They stared at one another for a minute or two, just drinking in each other's appearance. Not either one reached for the phone just yet. Not yet. Lash looked at her frazzled look. Her red hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, her green eyes weak and tired, her full lips shaking as if she was cold. Lash took a second to notice the air. It wasn't that cold.

Her fingers, though, were tapping lightly against the table, and Lash sighed, reaching for the phone finally. But she didn't. Layla took moments of time, just lots of time, staring him down with a glimmer of hatred, hope, and sadness. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she reached for the phone, grasping it in her chalk-white hand and placing it against her ear. Lash didn't dare say anything now, and he hesitated even breathing. She stared at him long and hard, though, with the distant look on her face. He missed her. Did she miss him? Did she even want to hear his apology? Did she even want to spend time with him, even without being forced into this seat across from him? But time together?

----

She sighed loudly, hearing his breathing clearly in the phone. She wanted to say something. Something hurtful. Something that never really ever left her lips before. But then she just wanted to hug him close to her, make him hear her cries, her angry voice. He licked his lips sluggishly, looking away and to the table at her hands, so she stopped tapping. She felt impatient when she did something like that. Lash sighed deeply into the phone, and closed his eyes. Layla almost got up to leave, to never see him again. But he rested his hand on his forehead, looking down at the table.

Tears were brimming over his eyes, and she could see the shiny, salty liquid hit the table. This was both torture, and revenge, all in one dish. And she didn't even do anything yet. Two more tears, and he briskly wiped his face three times, lifting his head to her, inhaling deep so that she could hear it.

His mouth opened to speak, and she slammed the phone down. She walked away.

--

Layla sent the women in the waiting room dark looks as she exited the prison. She still couldn't really believe it yet. That they would actually bring her here. This was insane - could she trust no one?

----

He stared dumbly at the empty chair in front of him.

"Sorry, Livingston." A hand came to his shoulder, and he left it alone, still in shock that she had walked away. Tipler grabbed strongly to his shoulder, and pulled him to his feet. "Real sorry." He had smacked his back a few times in a comforting way, and Lash just moped, staring at the ground.

"This sucks."

--

:sad face:

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