"They were at the mall."

Alex's unprompted statement breaks a ten minutes silence. Piper looks at her. "Who?"

"Her and Beth and somebody else. Phoebe, I think. I don't know where exactly it happened. My aunt didn't know anything else. Beth keeps calling, but I haven't...I can't talk to her yet."

They're lying on the twin bed, facing each other, so close Piper's going slightly cross eyed trying to hold Alex's gaze.

"I think it was...fast." Alex's lip trembles. "My aunt said it was."

"Well...that's good, at least?"

A tear falls and pools beneath Alex's eye, then slides over the bridge of her nose. Piper thumbs it away.

"It doesn't feel real."

"I know."

"My cell phone rang earlier and for a second I thought it was her. Like, really thought so. I always think it's her calling."

Piper's chest spasms involuntarily. She shuffles a little closer to Alex to hide the movement; their noses bump. Alex traces a strand of Piper's hair to its end, then tucks it behind her ear. They're quiet for a bit.

"It's not gonna get better, you know," Piper whispers suddenly. "Not for awhile."

The muscles in Alex's face tense, expression pained, but she laughs weakly. "Kicking me when I'm down, Pipes?"

Piper doesn't smile. "I just mean...you can't do drugs every time it hurts too much, Alex."

Alex's eyes dart away, and she rolls over on her back, staring up at the ceiling, freckled with plastic stars that barely glow anymore.

The past rolls out in front of Piper, a pattern forming for maybe the first time. Alex after their fight in high school: swigging vodka from water bottles or smoking pot in the school bathroom, tripping on LSD on a stranger's porch. Alex unconscious and barely breathing in the bathroom of this apartment. And now, today, calling some local contact from ages ago to get heroin, binge drinking to hold herself over until it got there.

Before, Piper had only been focused on her own guilt - or a defiant rejection of that guilt. She'd never taken herself out of the equation and figured out what all that says about Alex.

Just as she's given up on Alex acknowledging the comment, when she asks quietly, the question directed at the ceiling, "What do you do?"

"When?"

"When it hurts too much."

"I...I don't know. Pretend it doesn't, I guess." She's quiet for a moment. "That or hit things." She lifts her hand and makes a fist, drawing Alex's attention back. The skin is faintly purple between her third and fourth knuckles. Alex's eyebrows draw together, and she meets Piper's eyes, questioning. "I punched the fridge."

Alex takes the proffered hand, brushing her thumb delicately over the bruise. "Does that help?"

She turns the question over before softly admitting, "Not really, no."

"Drugs do," Alex replies grimly. She lets that disconcerting statement settle for a moment before adding, "You have no idea, it's like...it mutes everything bad."

Piper's quiet for a moment, her heart slamming painfully in her chest. She isn't sure if Alex is merely explaining, wanting Piper to understand, or if she's excusing something that still may happen.

Finally, Piper says in careful, halting sentences, "I know this isn't about me. And I know you said you don't care about anything you promised me." Alex purses her lips, looking like she's trying to decide whether to amend that. Piper doesn't give her a chance. "But, Alex, you'd have to hate me - ." Her voice cracks, and it takes a second before she can continue, "I don't care if that's selfish. I just don't. You almost died, and it was the worst night of my life. You made a promise to me it wouldn't happen again. And you'd have to seriously hate me to not care about that." Alex is looking at the ceiling again, face tight and hard to read. Piper softens her voice, nerves clinging to the edge of the words. "And I'm at least seventy-five percent sure you don't hate me." Alex turns to face her, but she doesn't say anything. Piper forces a clumsy smile, but her tone is less joking than she intends. "Maybe fifty percent sure."

"Moron," Alex whispers. She kicks Piper's shin under the covers, then shuffles a little closer, draping her leg over Piper's. "I love you."

Piper wishes Alex didn't sound sad about it.

She wakes up first the next morning, with Alex tucked into her side. Piper doesn't get out of bed; she takes excessive care to stay perfectly still, thinking that Alex deserves to sleep through as much of this day as possible, but less than an hour later she stirs.

Piper keeps her gaze trained on Alex's face, watching her slow crawl into reality: there's a moment the sleepy haze fades from Alex's eyes, and for just a second, her expression is clear. Then the storm clouds move in, as Alex wakes up enough to remember.

"Hey," she mumbles.

"Morning." Piper leans forward a few degrees, lips parted, but she stops herself. They haven't kissed in three days, in spite of being constantly together. It's like they're fifteen years old again.

Alex's eyebrow arches, her face flickering with a ghost of a typical Alex Smirk, but she doesn't bust Piper on the near miss.

Recovering herself, Piper lifts herself up on her elbow. "So. What do you want to do today?" She makes a face the second the question is out; it sounds too casual and flippant, as if they're on vacation.

But Alex frowns thoughtfully, seeming to genuinely consider the question. "There's so much shit to get done. I have to talk to a lawyer, and I have to figure out what to do with the apartment..." Piper's stomach swoops unpleasantly at that, but Alex doesn't linger on it. "But the fucking funeral is tomorrow, and every time I think about it I want to..." She trails off with a hollow laugh, shaking her head slightly. Piper's stomach sinks even lower, wondering if the unspoken end of that sentence has something to do with drugs, with letting them mute what's bad. "So I'd just really fucking love to not do anything hard today. I want to pretend I'm not in the middle of a huge fucking tragedy and just...do nothing all day."

Piper half-smiles. "So...movies? Take out?"

Alex nods immediately, grateful. "Leave the phone off the hook and that sounds perfect."

They drive to the Blockbuster a few blocks away, and Piper turns on the radio. It feels good, like breaking a too long silence.

They walk through rows of VHS and DVD shelves, picking up any movie they used to watch as kids. They'd had a rotation of five or six movies they rented over and over, and Piper finds all of them. Alex grabs a box of every kind of candy on the racks, and tosses them one by one on the counter, while the teenage employee with a lip ring stares dryly at them. They pick up pizza and beer, and Piper even cranks up the volume a little on the ride home. Alex yanks out the telephone line before they settle onto the couch and turn on Dazed and Confused.

By the time they move on to Reality Bites, the pizza boxes are empty and they're pouring each other handfuls of Sour Patch Kids and Junior Mints.

Alex stretches half the length of the couch with her knees drawn up, leaning back against Piper's chest. Piper drapes her arm around Alex and hides a traitorous smile in her hair.

It wouldn't be honest to pretend she didn't love the travel. It's easier, sometimes, to spin a narrative that she gave up everything to be with Alex, to mold her life entirely to what Alex wanted. But Piper had loved it, for a long time. Her last year of college, staring at a wall of Alex's postcards, she'd craved those places, the adventures, nearly as much as she'd longed for Alex.

It had taken over a year for the novelty to wear off, and even then she probably would have stayed happy if Alex had as much free time as she did, or if they hadn't started to stay in places long enough that it stopped feeling like a vacation. Piper had still loved the glamour and nightlife and excitement.

But something about this, right here, feels so damn satisfying, like she was missing it without even knowing. It's them, stripped down to basics.

She's looping her fingers absently through Alex's hair, almost absurdly content, when suddenly, for no reason, she catches herself in that feeling.

Just like that, hot guilt smothers all traces of happiness, so strong and sudden that Piper can't see straight.

Because everything about this feels familiar, except now Diane isn't coming home to drop off food and change uniforms between jobs. She won't come home from a late shift to find them still watching movies at three am, and she won't jokingly tell them to get the hell off her bed or she'll take theirs.

So what fucking right does Piper have to be so happy?

She starts thinking about the summer before sixth grade, when she was practically living at Alex's apartment. Usually they split pretty evenly, alternating Friday night sleepovers: the Chapman house one weekend, the Vause apartment the next.

But that summer, Piper hadn't wanted to be anywhere near her own house. Her father was hardly ever home - in retrospect, she assumes he was in the early stages of a new affair - and her mother had seemed even more unreachable than usual. Piper hadn't even known how to describe it at the time, but she knew her house seemed to hold a bad feeling.

Alex had finally gotten past all traces of tension about Piper coming over, and when Piper continually expressed a preference to hang out at Alex's, she never protested, never asked why, just agreed, seeming to understand that it mattered. There were stretches of three or four days where Piper didn't go home. Her mother would have killed her if she knew what they were doing; namely, eating fast food for every meal, drinking soda to help stay up all night, or riding their bikes out of Alex's neighborhood and all the way to Friendly's to visit Diane.

She had still gone to camp for a week, just like she and her brothers did every summer. Two days after getting home, she was back at Alex's to spend the night. They were sitting on the couch eating cherry popsicles and playing Speed when Diane came home from work. She'd smiled delightedly at Piper, wrapped her up in a hug and said how good it was to see her. "I kept tellin' Al I'd forgot what it was like to only have one daughter. Not sure I like it anymore."

Piper's happiness in that moment could have practically launched her into the sun.

She barely pays attention to the rest of the movie, just sits there picking apart memories, bowled over with missing Diane. It's the purest she's the grief has felt, not cut through with guilt or confusion or even concern for Alex. This is just hers.

And it makes her feel about five years old. Childishly, she wants someone to hug her, to feel sad for her, to let her cry on their shoulder and say it's going to be okay.

But Alex is laughing quietly at the movie, and she already said she wanted the day to be free of tragedy. And even if she hadn't, Piper can't expect Alex to comfort her over this.

But goddamn she wants to be comforted.

When the credits roll over that Lisa Loeb song, Alex moves away to change out the movies. Piper's gaze instinctively skirts away, sure if Alex makes eye contact she'll see straight through Piper, right into the avalanche going on inside her chest.

"You want to do The Professional, Edward Scissorhands or Clueless next?"

For the first time, Piper can really hear the fragility in Alex's forced calm, can hear how hard she's having to work to keep it up. Piper wants to go along with it, she really does, but right now all her willpower is going into not crying.

But Alex is waiting for an answer, so Piper swallows against the lump in her throat and plasters on a smile. "Has it been long enough since lunch for us to think about dinner?"

Alex lifts an eyebrow. "Wu Palace takeout?"

"Perfect." Piper hesitates, giving herself one more chance to suck it up. She can't. "Would you be okay if I stopped by my grandmother's?" Alex's casual expression falters slightly. "Just for a half hour or so, and I'll pick up the food after. I haven't seen her yet, and I'm sure my parents have told her I'm here by now." The lie comes out easily; she really is going to her grandmother's, she just won't tell Alex the real reason.

Alex nods, recovering easily. "Yeah, of course. Take your time."

"You can start another movie - "

"No, it's fine. I'll wait."

Piper rings the doorbell three times before her grandmother opens it, an expression of irritation on her face before she realizes who it is. She immediately beams at her granddaughter. "Sweetheart, what a nice surprise. You know you could have brought Alex with you."

"She's - " Piper doesn't even get to a second word before a crooked sound lurches out of her and she starts to sob.

"Honey!" Her tone mixing bewilderment and concern, her grandmother puts an arm around her, like Piper isn't a head taller, and leads her into the house to sit down on her ancient floral couch. "What's wrong?"

Piper shakes her head hard, sending tears flying. "Diane..."

"That's Alex's mom?"

She nods, choking out gaspy, wavering sentences. "She was really great. And I really loved her. It hadn't really hit me, because...I'm so, so worried about Alex, and obviously it's her mom, so I'm not allowed to put any of this on her. And I feel like I can't explain to my parents, why I'm so upset..."

"Well, you don't have to explain yourself to me," her grandmother says firmly. "You knew her more than half your life, sweetie. Of course you're sad. Now..." She pats Piper's hand. "Tell me about Diane."

So Piper tells her about Diane sneaking her free desserts or extra fries at Friendly's, her record collection and endless stories about concerts, the way she used to listen to all their grievances about teachers and fly right back with gossip about her coworkers. She talks about her vacation in Tahiti and last year's Christmas Eve and even that night at the hospital.

She doesn't realize how long she's been talking until her cell phone rings. Alex Calling is lit up on the screen, and above it the time shows that she's been here for over an hour.

"Shit," she mutters, then glances at her grandmother. "Sorry."

"Language doesn't shock me, Pipe."

Piper's voice sounds scraped raw, and she knows Alex will be able to tell she's been crying. She silences the phone, instinctively scrubbing at her face. "I need to go..."

Her grandmother studies her, then seems to decide against asking questions. "Okay, sweetheart. You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks for this."

"Anytime, baby."

"Hey, I'm really sorry...you know how my grandmother is, she wanted to hear about everything. But I come bearing food!" Her too wide smile wilts. Alex's eyes are red, and there's a stack of records on the floor by the record player. "Were you - ?"

Alex cuts her off, taking one of the bags of takeout from Piper and sitting down on the couch, nodding for Piper to join. "Don't apologize, I told you to take your time. Let's start a movie."

They pick up where they left off, but it's all wrong now. They sit nearly a full couch cushion apart, and neither of them even pretend to enjoy it. When one movie ends, Alex puts in another one without comment.

They fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch during the sixth movie of the day, and when Piper wakes up a few hours later, Alex isn't there anymore.

"Al?" she mumbles groggily, sitting up on the couch.

There's a glow from across the room; Alex is sitting at the desktop computer - one of her Christmas gifts to her mom last year - staring intently at the screen.

Piper steps over takeout boxes and crosses the room. "Hey..." She touches Alex lightly between the shoulder blades, squinting over her shoulder at the computer screen: the time clock in the corner says 3:24. There's a page up that says Eulogy Examples - Tips for a Memorable Tribute. Piper throat narrows. "What are you doing?"

Alex face is pale in the glowing light of the computer. Her glasses are on top of her head, and her eyes seem too big, almost manic. "I forgot I'm supposed to do a eulogy," she mutters, barely sounding like she's talking to Piper. "...don't know why I'd say that, I have no idea how they go, I've never even been to a fucking funeral."

Piper squeezes her shoulder. "It doesn't matter - "

"It does matter!" Alex jerks away violently, shaking the computer table. They both freeze.

"I just meant there aren't rules for it," Piper clarifies softly after a tense beat. "Whatever you say, it's going to be fine. You can do this."

Alex face slowly crumples, childlike. "But I don't want to."

Tears stinging her eyes, Piper slips an arm around Alex from behind. "I know."

She had been surprised in the funeral home when Alex had said she'd give a eulogy, but compared to the money she was throwing around for everything else, it hadn't been what stuck with Piper. Still, standing up in front of a room full of people to talk about her relationship with her mom doesn't seem like Alex. Piper would have expected her to suffer through the funeral in withdrawn, tight jawed silence, trying to avoid conversations and condolences as much as possible, resenting any intrusion on her grief.

But it has seemed like she was agreeing to anything she thought was expected; still trying to give her mom the best of everything.

Piper kisses the side of Alex's head. "Tomorrow's for you, Alex." The dark seems to make her instinctively whisper. "No one else there matters, okay? So you can say two sentences and sit back down, or you can talk nonstop for hours. Whatever you want. And if you need to, you can pretend you're just talking to me."

Alex doesn't answer, but she leans back a little, putting her weight against Piper. Aching with her own helplessness, Piper tightens her grip and presses her face into Alex's hair.

In a swift, startling motion, Alex whirls around, her face a blur before her lips crash into Piper's

Piper kisses back, pure instinct. Alex's mouth is greedy, ferocious; she sucks Piper's lip between her teeth, and lets out a low whine that vibrates against Piper's tongue, a small, frightened sound.

"Alex..." Piper pulls away just enough to murmur her name, with Alex insistently closing the gap after every word. "Alex...hey..."

Alex groans quietly, wrenching her lips away just enough to press her forehead against Piper's. "Please," she says thickly. "Pipes, please." She fists the neck of Piper's shirt and tugs, so very desperate, kissing her again with fierce, bruising need.

After a minute or two, Alex moves away, pulling her own shirt over her head and discarding it. Her bra follows in two seconds, and then she stands up from the computer chair. She laces her fingers with Piper's and leads her to the couch, her free hand unbuttoning her own jeans. She stops in front of the couch and pulls them down, kicking them haphazardly across the living room. She falls onto the couch and tugs Piper onto her lap, peeling Piper's shirt off and unhooking her bra before kissing her again.

This isn't Alex; Alex is all seduction and teasing, but she's acting like they're running a race. Piper kisses back, because there's nothing else for her to do.

Alex tastes like salt. Cradling Alex's face, Piper catches a tear with her thumb, and in response Alex reaches up, grabbing her wrist, and moves Piper's hand between her legs, holding it there.

Piper goes still, leaning away to peer down at Alex, her hair falling like a curtain around them. "Alex..."

"Please." Alex stares up at her, her face falling open into raw, scorching need. Her voice is coming apart at the seams, "Make it stop."

Emotion swells in Piper's throat. She runs her thumb along Alex's cheekbone, soothing and tender. As if in response, Alex slides forward on the couch and leans back, opening her legs and arching into Piper's hand, an instruction.

Piper obliges, her fingers finding heat, their press unusually tentative. She leans over, their torsos pressed together, and kisses Alex deeply, like she can pour all the comfort she wishes she knew how to give into it. Alex sharpens the kiss, turning it forceful and graceless. She rolls her hips in command, and Piper increases the pressure, stroking a slow, steady rhythm. Alex disengages their lips, tipping her head forward to lightly nip a trail across Piper's shoulder.

Then all at once Alex stops; her body goes limp, muscles slacking, like exhaustion is injected into her veins. Her forehead thumps against Piper's shoulder, and she buries her face against Piper's collarbone. Their skin is feverish and slick, flush against each other, with Piper's arm wedged in between. Piper clumsily adjusts her grip before slipping her fingers inside. Instantly, Alex makes a sound, muffled against Piper's skin.

Piper moves as much as she can in the confined space, circling the heel of her hand against Alex's clit, thinking all the while: make it stop. She thinks about Alex holding a bag of heroin and grinds harder.

Make it stop, make it better, fucking fix it.

Her right hand swims through Alex's hair, gentle and soothing, a stark contrast to the intense, determined motion of her left. Alex's legs start to shake, and Piper whispers her name, again and again, but Alex doesn't look up; she wishes she could see her face.

Alex wants to escape, to mute everything bad. Piper wants to comfort her.

She's not sure if they can both have what they want.

The muscles in Piper's arm are starting to ache from the awkward angle, so she withdraws her hand and wipes her fingers on the couch cushion. Alex lifts her head at the sudden absence, her eyes unfocused and far away. Equal parts plea and order, she says between her teeth, "Don't stop."

Piper kisses her a promise, a reassurance, then scoots backward off the couch, on her knees on the carpet between Alex's legs. Alex lets her head roll back, tilted upward. Her eyes are swollen and bloodshot, but somehow she's achingly, unnervingly beautiful like this, her skin pale and slick with sweat, illuminated in the streetlights filtered through the living room blinds.

Piper slides her hands along Alex's legs, nudging them further apart as she settles between, then presses a soft, reverent kiss to her inner thigh. "Alex..."

"Just make me come." Alex sounds so, so empty. Piper lifts her head, trying to catch Alex's eye, but she's staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Ignoring the sick, hollow feeling in her stomach, Piper lowers her mouth onto Alex, and her hips twitch at the first contact. Piper's tongue begins to stroke and swirl, and she can hear Alex making sounds like broken gasps, and damn it, it has never been like this between them. The mechanics are the same; she knows exactly which motion will send Alex's hips bucking, what speed and rhythm will make her let out that low, throaty sound that nearly makes Piper come undone. But somehow it feels almost clinical, empty of heat or playfulness or even desire.

Piper scoots back and lifts her head, eyes silently begging Alex to give her something.

Alex huffs out a sharp, impatient sigh, then says in a strained voice, "Piper."

"I...I can't," Piper whispers in a small voice. "Not like this."

An angry, frustrated growl curls from deep in Alex's throat. "Are you fucking serious?"

"I'm sorry. But, Alex...it's like you're not even here."

Finally, Alex's head snaps up. She squints at Piper, angry but scrutinizing, like she's trying to gauge whether there's a point to arguing.

Her eyes flash and then harden, and Alex reaches across the couch, grabbing Piper's shirt and bra and hurling them at her. "Fine."

Alex looks away, jerking her legs out from under Piper's touch and swinging them up on the couch. She lets her head fall back, closes her eyes, and slides her own hand between her legs.

Piper sits on the floor beside the couch, her legs drawn up, clutching her shirt and bra with a white knuckled grip. She drops her forehead against her knees, oddly ashamed of herself. She doesn't watch as Alex finishes what she couldn't, but it takes maybe thirty seconds before she hears Alex come with a sound indistinguishable from a sob.

When it's over, neither of them move: Alex flat on her back on the couch, Piper three inches away on the floor, curled into a ball. Silence settles over the apartment, sliced through with their harsh, trembling breaths, out of sync. Piper can still taste Alex on her lips until a silent, steady stream of tears washes it away.