Muahahha.

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

"What?" Lash asked, feeling the older man's hand grab his collar to tug him along.

"What if she just bolts again?" Lash shook his head with a smirk.

"She came alone. If she wanted to bolt, she wouldn't have showed up." Tipler placed his head to the side, agreeing with the boy behind him.

"Alrighty then," he muttered, opening another door and leading him inside. It was brighter than before, but Lash only thought that was because Layla was by her lonesome, sitting there impatiently. When their eyes met, she gave him a smile, a smile that he's missed greatly. Tipler let him go as he made a dash to his seat, picking up the phone and leaning in a bit close to the glass. He felt the earth shake with new life.

--

She stared at him for a moment, a small smile on her face as she tilted her face to the side, her hands cupping her chin to keep her upright. Then with eager fingers, she grabbed the phone, her eyes slanting with a smile.

"Hey."

Lash pumped the air with his fist, his eyes on the ceiling as he yelled out, "YES!" It was a bit amusing for a moment, until he fell back into his chair, onto the ground. Tipler got a big kick out of that one. The phone flew into the air and hit him in the chest, causing him to groan slightly. Layla, though, stood up and touched the glass, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Her mouth moved, and he knew what she was saying even if he couldn't hear her.

"Lash? Lash are you okay?" His head tossed back, his eyes closing with a smile. Slowly his fingers curled around the black phone, bringing it to his left ear.

"Hi Layla." He said child-like, a ginormous grin on his face as he heard her give a giggle.

"Are you alright?" He merely nodded, and she sighed with relief. "Then sit back up and talk to me." He did as he was told, and received a smile. "I only have till 6:30. I need time to go home." He peered over at the large wall clock.

"That leaves us with only about 4 and a half hours. Wow, you're willing to stay that long?" He asked, turning back to her as he spoke. She put up her hand.

"I promise not to leave this spot till then."

"Well, what if you or I have to pee?"

"Lash, shut up." She laughed, her face turning red. He drank that in, enjoying the moment of her laugh.

"I don't really wanna." He whispered, hearing a stuffed cough from the other side of the room. "Tipler, shut up and mind your own business." Layla gave him a quizzical look.

"Whose Tipler?"

"He's one of the guards here. We're pretty close, actually." Layla nodded, and he continued, turning his face slightly to make notice of the older man. "He's gunna get me some Chicken Parma, isn't he?" He snickered, and turned back to Layla, who gave a smirk.

"You know, the next time I show up I'll just have to bring you something." She pouted as she drew little scribbles into the table with her finger.

"Like what?" He asked, leaning in a bit to trace the thick glass.

She sighed, looking up at him. "Myself." Tears began to spill from her eyes, and Lash looked frantically at Tipler, who merely shrugged.

"I can't help yah, kid. You can't get to her." Lash slammed a fist into the table, and looked up to Layla, who fought back a sob, her cheeks red like her hair.

"Little Lahlah, please don't cry..." He whispered, stroking the glass as her fingertips touched it softly. He yearned to feel her soft skin against his, and he closed his eyes against the phone, his pointer finger equal with her own as she slid it down slowly, collapsing it to the table like a dead fish.

"I'm sorry." She murmured, a loud sniff escaping her. He wished he could hold her, wished he could take her and kiss everything that hurt. But she sat in front him. In plain sight, where he could see her. Where he could imagine feeling her, but couldn't touch her. Couldn't comfort her without words. He scowled. Stupid words. They mean practically nothing to him. Not unless they were from her lips.

He wished he hadn't gone with the plan. He's thought this many times, but right now, he regretted it the most - it had made him end up here, without Layla. Being tortured away with Layla sitting across from him, tears spilling from his eyes.

This was too much to see. This was too much to hear.

He leaned back in his chair easily this time, careful not to teeter on the edge of the wooden piece so that he could fall again.

"Lash?" Her eyes were swimming with tears, but she didn't want to blink them away.

"Yeah babe?" He whispered, tucking his feet beneath the chair and pulling himself a bit closer.

"You look disgusting in orange." He chuckled at her weak words, and gave her a small smile. He heard her breathe a laugh, wiping away a tear.

"I'm so glad you took a notice to it. Cause I thought it looks rather fashionable." She rolled her wet green eyes, and dug through her bag on the floor. "What are you doing?"

She pulled out a black shirt with black and white stripes for sleeves, and gave a smile to him.

"I found this in the basement last night when I was doing laundry." She coughed, and he smirked, brushing his hand over the glass so that she could place it down on the table.

"You keep it, Layla." Her mouth dropped lightly, and she patted the shirt down in front of her, glancing at it, then back up to Lash, then back to the garment.

"What? But it's yours!" He shook his head.

"I don't really care if it's mine or not, Lay. You've had it over a year."

"But I just found it! I didn't really have it..."

"Layla, keep it. For me." He smiled, and dipped his head low to give her a mysterious look. "Wear it - I don't really care. As long as when I get out, I see you at the gate."

She merely nodded, tugging it off the table and into the bag again.

"Alright, then." She whispered, a small smile on her face as she peered over at him again. "So." He leaned up onto his elbow to show interest in her words. "How's it been?"

He shrugged. "It's different. I'm not used to jail...but Gwen got her own glass cage. Me and Speed sit at our own table at lunches, but other than that, I've got my own cell."

"Sounds sorta lonely, having your own cell." She muttered, and he shrugged again.

"Not really. It's like I've got my own room still."

"It's only juvi." She whispered to herself, running a hand through her hair. He nodded, hearing her clearly. "But, so what else do you do?"

He breathed in deeply, and shook his head. "Practically nothing. It's not a fun place. It's jail." He said, and she shivered at the last two words. He noticed this, and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's the truth." She bit her lip, and stared at him long, her eyes blinking slowly after minutes passed. They sat in a comforting silence, just staring at each other, and Lash broke their eerily wonderful serenity.

"I miss you." I love you. I need you. I want you. He thought, staring at Layla with devotion in his eyes. I crave you. I breathe you.

"I miss you too." She whispered, her fingers on the glass as he thought she imagined them stroking his face. He guessed it was torture for the both of them. But her eyes were lost and confused. Hurt. Abused. Helpless.

He chuckled away from the phone, and she gave him a confused look. "What is it?"

"You don't know how badly I miss you, though." She blushed red. Tipler had to bite his knuckle from snickering out, clearly hearing Lash's words. "And it hurts because you're with Stronghold - not that that would ever stop me..."

Layla sulked into her chair at his words, and sighed into the phone, her eyes closing.

"Lash..." There was another calm, comforting silence. He watched her lips open and close for a time, sighing against the black phone, her hand on her forehead.

"Oh I can live without you but…" He whispered softly, watching her eyes droop open. A tear fell from the edge, and he screamed inwardly, wishing he could have wiped it away. Kiss it all gone.

"Without you I'll be miserable at best." She murmured, giving him a weak smile against the glass. Her fingers stretched out against it, and he watched slowly as his own hand lifted and placed itself against the glass in front of her. She gasped. "Lash..." She muttered, her fingers barely gripping the phone any longer.

"I can feel how warm you are." He murmured, releasing a sighing smile as they both kept their hands there. It was something they both needed. It was something they both craved. Layla shivered, and it sent a vibration across the glass and through him. She smiled wide.

"Feel that?" He could only nod. He was more focused on the fluttering heartbeat he was sending via glass wall to her. His cheeks filled with red. "Yes, Lash, I feel that too." He looked at her own cheeks, seeing a blush appear shortly after. He leaned into the glass; a faint smile on his face as he ushered her closer. Her ear was turned slightly, and he jokingly pecked the glass with his lips, hearing a faint giggle from the phone.

"That was gross." He laughed, sitting back down and leaning on his elbows. She shook her head as she sighed with a smile, turning her eyes up to the ceiling.

"You were the one who did it, though." He rolled his eyes. "You have to scrub your lips now - I won't let you touch me with those when you get out." He rolled his eyes again, only this time more dramatically, with a hand wave.

"Yes, yes your majesty."

----

She lay down face first onto her bed, letting a scream loose into the air. It was a stressful scream, not that type of 'Ohmigod-I'm-so-angry' scream that she's seen Magenta do a few times. It was nighttime, and she was getting ready for bed, but the thoughts of what Lash and her talked about were still circulating in her mind. Slowly she began to crawl into a sitting position, sniffing loudly into the air as she sulked, her legs crossing over and her fingers in her lap. Staring blankly at her was Lash's striped shirt, hanging off her clean clothes hamper. The loud ringing was back. It was screaming at her as loud as she could handle it, and she resisted the urge to cover her ears and keel over.

"Awohh..." She moaned, her eyes closing against her bedspread as she bent her body into itself.

Breathing deeply she lifted her body to a straightened height minutes later, her eyes opening slowly as she glared at the wall. She stared for a long time, hearing her mother bustling about the living room as she set herself into a movie with the shades closed.

"Layla, honey, are you coming to watch this with me?"

"Be right down, Mum!" She called, taking the striped shirt in her hands and lifting it to her nose, a smile on her face as she could still smell the faint cologne of Lash's skin.

Even after a year and a wash later.

Tucking it beside the jeans she was going to wear the next day, she stood up and crossed the room, opening the door with a stumble of her feet.

--

"What the fuck are you wearing, Layla?" Will asked, picking at the striped sleeve with a scowl. She took a step to the side as he grabbed her arm, and winced when he tugged her right back. Her face scrunched up in pain.

"Will, your hand..." She breathed, her eyes failing to open as she felt as if her arm was about to pop. He took in a gasp and released her, apologizing rapidly.

"Ooh, I'm so sorry, Layla. I didn't mean to. It just..." Layla lifted her hand to make his words stop. She spotted the pity in his eyes and looked away to the ground beneath their feet, picking at one shoe with the other.

"I'm okay." She whispered, ignoring his grasps of her arms to see the damage. "No, Will." He froze. "I'm okay."

He nodded. "Won't happen again. Swear." Layla took his hand in hers and smiled a small smile, completely ignoring the fact that he was still angry about the choice of clothing on her body this morning. "I didn't mean for that to happen." He murmured, seeing her nod at the corner of his eye.

--

"So will you tell me again why you're wearing this...thing?" Will asked sourly, lifting his hand over the table and pointing to the piece of cloth strewn across her torso.

She ate a bit of salad before sighing into her lemon-flavored water. "I found it in the laundry piles downstairs, and decided that it'd be okay to wear it."

"It looks hideous."

"Well I like it." She smiled. "Reminds me of my best friend." He gave her a small scowl before turning away, talking to Warren.

----

He grumbled lightly into his pillow after lunch. He didn't really want to go anywhere but there - unless you'd count the outside world anywhere else. Shivering, Lash covered his body with the rough blanket, closing his eyes. Maybe a nap would be good for him. His hand hit the wall, and he stroked it softly, feeling the harsh, numb feeling shoot through his fingers.

Lash wished that Layla could sing him to sleep - maybe then he could really slumber.

The buzzing sound to let the prison know someone was going to open a cell went off. He jumped to himself, startling his heart and rolling his closed eyes. "Goddamnit."

He just didn't know that it was his own cell they were opening.

"C'mon, boy. Visitors." Lash held his breath for moments at a time, shaking his head.

"No." He couldn't go through the torture of not actually being with Layla again.

Arms tugged his body away from the mattress, away from beneath the rough blanket, and set him to his feet. "Yes."

"Tipler, you were there the other day when Layla came." The older man merely nodded. "It's absolute torture. I can't handle it."

"Kid, you've got your mother, girlfriend, and her mother showing up today -"

"She's not my girlfriend, Tip." Tipler rolled his eyes.

"They're showing up today, so you've got the visit room." Lash's eyes bulged as Tipler tossed him a clean white teeshirt. With eager fingers he put it on, his breath being held as he shoved his head through the hole.

"You're lying." He whispered, leaning down to put on his shoes. He shook his head. "You're serious?"

"You've got a few visitors, boy. And when they expect to stand in line to talk to you, it's sort of hard to get everything out -"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. C'mon Tipler, lead the way." He said quickly, ushering him to the cell door.

----

"Okay, miss, I'm going to have to ask you to remove all jewelry." Layla looked up to the 6-foot tall young man and nodded weakly. She didn't really understand why, though. I'm not going to do anything, she thought, watching her mother remove her long, pointed necklace from her neck. Slowly, she understood. People couldn't be trusted around here. Sighing, Layla removed her dangling earrings and swishy bracelet, placing it into the tray and standing silently. Layla read the name on the young man's shirt, and he gave her a confused look. "Is there something I could help you with?" He asked her, voice shaking slightly.

"You...just look like an old friend, is all." She muttered, watching Sarah remove her purse from her shoulder and place in next to Amanda's things on the tray. Layla couldn't place why he looked so familiar, but then the man smirked. She gasped softly, her hand flying to her lips.

"Who, then, may I ask?"

"Jagger." She breathed, but the man shook his head.

"I'm his brother."

"I knew you weren't him...it's just you have his features." The man nodded.

"Ah." He whispered, taking her by her lower back and into the next room, where she could see Lash being placed in a chair to the far right of a table. He didn't seem to know that this was Layla, the girl Jagger was here about. "Come this way, will you?"

Amanda and Sarah followed shortly after, and Layla couldn't hear Sarah breathe anymore. But she heard a quiet sob leave the woman's lips, and Layla nodded. She felt the same. She just couldn't make it come out.

--

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