Drama! 0oh!

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

"I'm gunna sneak you out the back, but you gotta be careful." She nodded quickly, and turned to Lash, who got out of the bed and wiped his eyes of sleep crust.

"Layla, will I see you soon?" She nodded again.

"More so often than usual, Livingston." Giving him a smile she went on, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I keep missing nights with you." Dipping her head down, she stood upon her toes and looked up to him. "I'll see you soon." Kissing his jawbone, she let him wrap his arms around her waist to pick her up and spin her once, placing her back to her feet and watching her walk out the door, close behind Tipler.

--

He heard the footsteps of his friend come close to his cell, and he immediately was to his feet, his fingers wrapped around the bars of his cage. "She alright?"

"She got home okay. She left out the back. No one saw her." Lash nodded, but looked to the floor with wide eyes. She'd be coming home to Stronghold. And he'd question where she had gone. Why she wasn't home in the morning.

"But she's not safe." Lash whispered, looking up to the older man before him. With curious fingers, Tipler unlocked Lash's cell, and stepped through, pointing to the bunk behind him. The man sat down in the chair across from it, and tilted his head to the side.

"What are you talking about? What do you mean she's not safe?" He demanded, a stern, narrowed look to his eyes. Lash began to shake, the thought of Layla's bruise still stained in his mind. She'd have more. It would be almost impossible to hide them. Letting a scream loose, he gripped his head and fell back.

"Lay's being abused." Tipler's eyes widened. "And it's ten times worse cause the bastard has super strength." Turning his face over into his pillow he bit it, his teeth grinding together as he let a muffled growl loose. Tipler kicked the mattress from his seat, and looked exceedingly dark and angry as Lash sat up, the pillow being spit out.

"Who's the kid?"

"One of the idiots who got me here." Lash muttered, looking up at the ceiling from beneath some of his hair. "Stronghold. Red, white and blue boy."

"He doesn't have a chin." Tipler chuckled, but stuffed it once Lash glared towards him. "Right. That doesn't matter. She's in danger. What are you supposed to do, Livingston. You're in here. You can't leave until the end of your sentence."

You're in here. You're in here. You can't leave. "I have an idea." Lash said loudly, standing before him, beginning to pace, his finger to his chin. "And he's gunna be sent here. I just know it. He's gunna."

Tipler looked weary. "What are you thinking."

----

It was hard to keep a straight face as he gripped her wrist. She wanted so badly, to hurt him like he's hurt her. It's a feeling that she's never felt before. It was strange. But half of her wanted to wrap her arms around him, to make him stop clutching her tightly. She wanted the scowl, the pursed lips of his, to go away. Just go away. Of all her years in love with him, she never expected him to become so sour. So evil.

Leaning in to his face, she closed her eyes against the pain to press her lips weakly against his. His grip was even stronger now, and yanked her away from him. "Don't touch me." He growled, looking down a slight to glare at her. "Don't touch me with those things when you've touched him."

She didn't notice the tickling feeling against her cheek as a tear fell from her eye. "I...needed to see him." Will merely shook his head. "I did! I swear." She shakily said, looking down to the floor. One of his hands let go of her wrist to grasp her cheeks, lifting her face to his once more. She took that one second to glance at her wrist, and caught sight of the dark marks he left upon her. "Will, please let me go."

"You promise me that you won't see him again." This was insane. Never see her best friend again? Could she ever even think of something that terrible? Quickly shaking her head, protesting the thought, Will's grip on her other wrist began pushing the limit. He could break it easily. So easily. Like a graham cracker when you want to have some s'mores. "You promise." He snarled, his fingers squishing into her face. Once Layla whimpered out a struggle to move, he knocked her back to stumble and regain her balance.

"I can't, William." She whispered gravely, shaking her head slowly. One hand was cupping her own cheek, and another was at her chest. Layla looked to that, and whimpered quietly to herself. This was horrible. This couldn't be right. "Lash is my best friend, and I had the sense to see him."

"Stop lying to me, Layla. You never lie to me."

"That's the thing, I'm not, Will." She was crying now, thinking how ridiculous this all was. Why couldn't he just accept that she and Lash were always and forever best friends? Why couldn't he trust her? Aren't you supposed to trust the people you love? "You know what?" It was her voice that strung high into the air, and Layla felt quite embarrassed for it to be so high. Lifting her injured hands, she let the plant on the mantle tangle itself around his being tightly, and took a step towards him, her eyes being wiped slowly with a finger.

"That was stupid." He growled, his hands in fists before he brought them into the air. In a quick swipe of his arms, the branches had broken.

"No!" She screamed, anger billowing beneath her skin. Again she tried, and stuck him against the wall by the front door. "You listen to me, Will Stronghold." Her voice was shaking, but she kept on. She had to. "Lash Livingston. Is my best friend. He's in jail, and I feel terrible about it. I went to see him, because we're friends and I miss him. I miss him terribly, Will, and you can't just make me forget him. He's been in my life almost as long as you have, and you can't forget someone who's been there and around you forever like that. DO you understand me?"

Words trailed through her mind and made her gasp as Will's eyes darkened, a disgusted look following. Don't let a boy hurt you in any way. Don't... "I don't even know why or how, Layla, but something's messed with you. Something's gone to your head, and it's all his fault. Now let me go. I'm going home." With a pissed breath of air, Layla let him go, but made the branches push him out the door. He had to leave before he hurt her anymore.

Looking to her wrists, she let a sob loose. This sucked. So much.

--

Could she even hug her friends anymore? Stepping to the bus stop with a long sleeved green t-shirt, she smiled towards her glowing friend, giving him a squeeze as Will slowly walked behind her. "How's it going, Zack?"

"Pretty good. Normal, really. Nothing's happened much between me and Maj just yet." Layla beamed. She was so happy for the new couple. Glancing towards Will, she slowly took his hand and played with the skin on his palm. She was still always for him - but he needed to control his issues and his anger. But right now, he was doing okay.

"That's cool." She muttered, looking to her hands. Her fingers were a bit red from the cold coming through, but she could still feel the tinge of the bruises on her wrists, the heavily covered bruise on her cheek. Love hurt. Badly. But it wasn't supposed to.

----

Entering through the door on his own, he saw Tipler far behind him, closing the opposite door so that the other prisoners wouldn't get the idea that it was okay to enter the premises. The older man let him roam into his usual seat on his own, and Lash sighed, waiting for the right moment before he could see the door on the other side open. Hearing the door creak, the sounds of keys jingling upon hips and waists, he finally looked up to see the distant face of Layla Williams.

Something was wrong. What had happened after she had left?

She sat down across from him, and he slowly lifted his hand to grasp the phone. As she was copying his movements, he noticed that she wore an extra long sleeved tee-shirt, almost gripping them with her fingers tightly to her wrists, and Lash kept thinking about how badly he was going to pulverize Stronghold for doing this to her. Whenever he'd get his hands on the punk, oh, he'd be in a mess. Super-strength or not, he was going down.

Sighing to himself, he started to stare at her again. Drink in her being, her face. He could almost see what she was thinking; the air was so thick between them. The glass couldn't stop this, even. And when he leaned in close to the glass, he glanced down to the table, and heard her whimper from the loss of eye contact. It had to be. And that's when she let slip the sleeves. He saw them.

He saw the fucking marks on her wrists that were left by the bastard, and he growled. He screamed. He slammed the phone down repeatedly and smacked the glass. Tipler had to come up from behind and hold him back, but he kept screaming.

"I'm gunna get him, Layla. I'm gunna fuckin' get him and he's gunna be fuckin' gone. DO YOU HEAR ME? GONE." His face turned slightly in his rage, and kicked Tipler in the leg, knocking himself out of the man's hold. Nothing could get him away now. "Layla -" He picked up the tattered phone, the cracks in the receiver. "Layla, please, stay away from him. Stronghold doesn't love you."

Layla had leaned into the glass, tears staining her face as she lifted her hand to it. Her whispering voice had made him growl even louder, trying to get through to her, through the glass. "He says he does."

"And those bruises are out of love, Lahlah?! Love? This is how he fuckin' treats you -" Tipler had to grasp his shoulders and at least attempt to pull him off the table. His knees were to the granite top, but Lash held tightly to the sides, holding himself in place. He wasn't leaving. "This is how he shows love? Layla -" Lash's voice got immensely quiet. "Please. He doesn't."

She choked back a sob as she peered at his raging face; a frown pasted on her mouth as tears fell from her eyes. "Then who does?" She knew this answer. She knew it. She had to. Stronghold wouldn't get to her if he said that Lash never did. It would be impossible.

"I do." He snarled, being pulled back to step away from the phone. "I FUCKING DO, LAYLA WILLIAMS. MORE THAN HE'LL EVER EVEN DREAM." Tipler grabbed Lash by the chest and pulled him away from the glass. He had to get away. But he needed to stay with her. He needed to be with her. And she needed to see him. No, Tipler couldn't take this away from him as well. She needed him. She loved him too. It was like that from the beginning. "Please, Layla. Don't go back to him."

"Lash," she moaned a sob, her eyes closing, her hands turning into fists before she cried out in pain from her weak wrists. "What am I supposed to do?" Her words drifted to his ears, and Lash stopped trying to escape Tipler's hold. His hand dropped the phone, and it crashed to the floor. Tipler jumped back with Lash being held tightly, and Layla could only cry against the glass, her head down towards the table.

"I know what to do." He called, being dragged away by another guard with Tipler. Lash was wild crazy, kicking and snarling and screaming, trying to get back to the girl on the opposite side of the glass. "I KNOW."

"Tell me." Was what he saw her mouth, her fingers shaking against the phone, her eyes red and puffy with tears. He wanted to have her stay. Another night, she could sneak back inside. He prayed she would do it again. He could only.

--

zomg zomg zomg!

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