Piper can't stop crying, and it's making it hard for her to apologize.
"Hey...hey, stop, look at me..." Alex's fingers circle Piper's wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. "Why do you keep saying you're sorry?"
Piper shakes her head, throat working furiously to get the words out. "I shouldn't...be like this...sorry..."
"Yeah, God, how dare you cry at a funeral," Alex says softly, all fond, gentle sarcasm. "So fucking inappropriate."
There's something so jarringly familiar about Alex's voice that Piper finally looks up at her. A fresh sob rounds in her throat when they make eye contact. She barely stops herself from blurting out, stupidly: There you are.
They're standing in front of the open grave, but the rest of the crowd seems to have moved away, heading to their cars. Piper's not sure when that happened, if Alex glared them away or if the service had come to a natural end.
"Sorry," she murmurs one more time.
"Shut up." Alex takes a single step across the gap between them and hugs her, hard.
Piper lets her hand trail slowly up the curve of Alex's spine; it makes her seem fragile. Alex holds on for a long time, until all at once her body shudders with a sound, a low, stuck moan that sounds like it's still muffled inside her throat.
"Alex?"
Alex reels away from Piper, her eyes snapping back to the open grave, teeth gritted. "I'm gonna be sick."
Piper tenses, on instant alert, but nothing happens. Alex just stares at the casket, breathing hard, her eyes glassy.
"Al...?"
"This is going to sound idiotic," Alex says tightly. "But I don't think we should leave her."
Piper feels her tears start up again; she wraps an arm around Alex, too tight throated to do anything but nod. Out of the corner of her vision, she sees a few people hovering by the line of cars at the edge of the cemetery; Fahri's among them.
She kisses the side of Alex's head and whispers, "We'll stay as long as you want."
"Hey, babes." Beth's voice startles both of them; they're practically in a daze, still standing together in front of the brand new headstone after nearly half an hour. Beth's voice is probably softer than she's ever managed to be in her life, and she sounds overly gentle and cautious, like they might be unstable.
Piper gives Alex a reassuring squeeze on the arm and a quick, silent look to let her know she can handle this. "Hey," she gives Beth a funeral smile, close lipped and solemn. "You don't have to stay, we're good."
Beth throws back the kind of smile that would be appropriate for visiting someone in a psych ward, all deep concern and determined patience. "You two shouldn't stay either, c'mon. Some of the girls have already headed over to Don Ramon, we're going to order Sunrise Margaritas, Di's favorite, make some toasts, swap stories..."
She's giving them a warm, inviting smile, but Piper has to fight not to wince; there's something unappealing about this, the celebrate her life approach, where death just seems to be an excuse for a sloppy party, the attendees constantly reassuring themselves that it's what their dead friend would have wanted. But before Piper can construct a polite refusal, Alex says, "Yeah, okay."
Piper throws her a startled look. "Yeah?"
Alex stands up a little straighter, looking oddly determined. "Yeah, let's do that. That sounds perfect."
Relief splashes across Beth's expression, and she wraps a proud arm around Alex. "Good, good! I think this is just what you girls need. Well, all of us do."
"Our car's at the funeral home," Piper reminds Alex.
"Oh, I'll give you a ride, neither of you are gonna be able to drive home tonight, anyway."
Piper glances at her watch: 1:46. Tonight feels very far away.
"We've actually got to settle some bills with the funeral guy," Alex says. "But we'll meet you there?"
"Alright, hon. We'll wait for ya."
Beth walks away off and Piper shoots Alex a questioning look; as far as she knows, the payment was all taken care of. Alex doesn't clarify anything, though, until Beth is in her car and drives away. She looks at Piper, murmuring softly, "I'll meet you in the limo?"
Piper nods and kisses her cheek, figuring she wants a moment alone at the grave.
She's halfway to the limo when she notices Fahri, leaning on a rental car. Piper glances back, relieved that Alex is still standing on her own.
But five minutes later, as Piper watches through the window, Alex turns from the grave, lifting her chin and stiffening her shoulders, and walks over to Fahri.
Dread pools sickeningly in Piper's stomach, and she turns away from the window, falling back against the seat, defeated. She wishes he would just go the fuck away.
She is the one who's barely left Alex's side since she found out. She is the one Diane's friends know by name, the one they tell to take care of Alex. She is the one who just saved Alex's eulogy.
She hates herself for thinking like this, like any of those things were done to score points.
When Alex joins her a few minutes later, all she says is, "We'll just go get the car."
All Piper says back is, "Okay." Then, "You know, we don't have to go with Beth if you don't want to - "
"I do want to. I can't be in the apartment, right now."
"Okay."
They ride in silence for awhile, until suddenly Alex breaks it, "Pipes?" Piper looks at her, and Alex's whole face softens. "Thanks. For coming up there, at the funeral. I...was about to lose it, and you were really great." Her voice snags. "I keep thinking that I can't wait to tell Mom about it."
Piper slides over a seat and leans into Alex's side, feeling like a horrible selfish person.
They find Beth and Diane's other friends crowded around the biggest table at a divey little Mexican restaurant full of colorful Christmas lights and out-of-place July fourth decorations.
Beth's saved them two seats and insists on ordering them margaritas, but Alex disappears to the bar and comes back with a tray of four tequila shots. Piper clues into why she wanted to come.
Alex has tossed back two shots, barely pausing between them, before Piper invites herself to join for a round, if only to lower Alex's number by one.
Even so, she's up and at the bar again before the waitress brings their first margaritas.
It's better than Piper expected, listening to Diane's friends talk about her with such obvious affection, telling their stories, talking over each other in their eagerness to say the best part, the most Diane moment; it's like a collaborative version of Piper's eulogy, and Piper finds herself smiling, soaking up the warmth and love pulsing at the table.
"Piper, speak up!" One of the women says at one point. "You had the best stories today, give us more."
"Um..." Piper thinks, turning instinctively to Alex, only to see her retreating from the table, en route to the bar. Again. "In a few minutes...excuse me..."
She gets to her feet and goes after Alex. The bar is completely empty, and Alex is leaning across it, waiting for the bartender to reappear. Piper has to scratch her fingers lightly against Alex's back to get her attention.
"Hey!" Alex grins, all glazed eyes and flushed cheeks.
"Hey," Piper forces herself to smile back, keeping her tone light, "You good?"
"Yeah, but I'll be better as soon as I get a fucking - oh, good, hey!" Alex turns away as the bartender returns from the kitchen, leaning across the bar. "Can I get two more shots? Unless..." She glances back at Piper. "Do you want something? Yeah, you do. Four shots, please."
"Alex..." Piper bites her lip worriedly, knowing even the most gentle suggestion that Alex slow down will only provoke scorn and direct defiance. She tells herself that at least it isn't heroin, then instantly feels sick for even thinking that.
"C'mere..." Alex tugs Piper's hand close, smirking as she rubs a lime across the inside of her wrist, then sprinkles salt across it. When the bartender puts the shots down, Alex bends her head to lick Piper's wrist, then immediately tosses the shot back, swaying a little when she straightens up. Piper grabs her arm to keep her steady, but Alex pulls away with a determined smile, pushing the lime, salt, and a shot at Piper. "Your go, babe."
Piper repeats the ritual and takes the shot, mostly because it distracts her from how much Alex's unthinking use of the endearment makes her want to cry.
Alex does the two remaining shots without offering Piper one. She steps away from the bar and stumbles, and when Piper grabs on to keep her from falling, Alex gracelessly crashes their lips together.
Piper nearly falls into the bar, and she grabs the front of the leather jacket to steady herself. Alex's mouth is enthusiastic but clumsy, and it makes Piper realize this is a serious business drunk.
She gently disentangles her lips from Alex's, forcing a smile. "You want to go home?"
"We don't need to go home, Pipes," Alex says distractedly, her hands groping brazenly at Piper's chest. "We can just sneak off to the bathroom."
Piper's had a few shots and two margaritas, but she feels stone cold sober beside Alex, and she's not used to that.
Without thinking much about it, just because Alex is drunk and, for the moment at least, some fake version of happy with her, Piper asks, apropos of nothing, "Is Fahri staying in town?"
Alex doesn't seem to register the lack of subject transition. "He's catching a flight to New York. Seeing clients." She laughs once, harshly. "Who knows, maybe he's seeing my fucking father."
Piper's insides tense up; Alex has only mentioned her dad once since meeting him, and that was five years ago.
The smile on Alex's face twists, and all her alcohol fueled glee disappears. "He's been shooting smack for over twenty fucking years and that asshole is the one who's still alive. It's not - " She sucks in a sharp, gasping sound. "It's not fucking fair."
"I know." Alex's head is turning completely away from her, trying to hide the fact that she's about to cry. Piper touches her chin, making her look. "Do you wanna go home?"
"No," she sounds like a stubborn little girl, insisting she doesn't need to be sent to bed, even as she stubbornly blinks back tears. "No, we should stay. We should get more drinks."
"I'm not sure you need anymore."
"Fuck you," Alex switches over to anger just like that. "I'l get it."
She walks back to the table, taking short, unsteady steps. Piper follows helplessly, watching Alex lean across Beth to pick up the fullest margarita in sight.
A concerned hush replaces conversation at the table, and Beth gives Alex a concerned look. "You okay, hon?"
"I am good," Alex declares firmly.
Beth's worried eyes meet Piper's, and she makes a face that's clumsily attempting to convey that she'll take care of it.
Alex brushes past her, jostling the margarita, but Piper grabs her arm before she can get back to the bar. Trying to sound firm, she says, "I'm going to call us a cab, okay?"
"I'll stay."
"You're upset - "
"I'm having fun."
"Al, you've barely even sat with everyone else - "
"That is because I don't want to hear it."
Piper frowns, confused. "You don't want to hear...?"
Slowly, heartbreaking, Alex's face crumples. "I don't like them...talking about my mom...and I don't know what they're talking about, I've never heard any of it before..." She disappears behind her hands as she starts to cry, hard; even now, as drunk as she is, Alex won't still won't let anyone see.
"Okay, okay...ssssh, it's okay..." Piper puts an arm around her, free hand pulling out a cell phone. "Let's go."
Piper has to half carry Alex up the stairs to the apartment building, and they take four awkward steps inside before Alex falls onto the couch, face first; she lets out an irritated whine against the cushion. Piper's never seen her this drunk.
Tapping back into instincts from her first few years of college, where she and Polly and their other friends seemed to take turns being the designated sloppy drunk, Piper brings a glass of water and a trash can into the living room.
She has to wedge herself into the tiny gap between Alex's prostrate form and the arm of the couch, then eases Alex upright. She groans in protest, but accepts the water when Piper instructs her to sip.
After a moment, Alex flops back on the couch, her face ashen and her eyes unfocused. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Piper gently smooths Alex's hair back. She can see her drifting out of consciousness, and Piper fights with herself for a few moments before saying softly, while Alex might not remember her asking, "What did you tell Fahri?"
She shrugs, looking up at Piper through half lidded eyes. "That I'd fly to meet 'em in three days. Somewhere. Germany somewhere."
Three days.
The reality of that slams into Piper, and for a second she can't catch her breath.
Alex claps a hand over her eyes. They're both quiet for a long, heavy moment, until Alex says with all the bluntness of a drunk confession, "They made me make you carry the suitcase."
Even Piper's blood stops moving. "What?"
Alex doesn't bother uncovering her eyes, mumbling impatiently, "Kubra didn't like that you were always around. Witnessing. Fahri said...I don't know."
"What, Alex? Fahri said what?!"
Alex makes an irritated face, shaking her head dismissively.
"Al, focus, please." Piper grabs her by the arms, her heart pounding violently. "Fahri said what, that you had to...implicate me?" Alex nods impatiently. "And he made you?" No answer; then, more urgently, Piper asks, "Why didn't you just tell me that?"
"I don't wanna talk anymore..."
"Alex. What about last week, when you asked me to go to Istanbul? Did they make you?"
"No. That was just me." Disappoint punches through Piper, but Alex only rolls her eyes. "Because you'd already done it once."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Nothing. Piper repeats herself, voice edging toward panic, "Alex, why didn't you just tell me when you first asked?"
Abruptly, Alex shoots forward, bending over the trash can and expelling bile and tequila.
"Fuck..." Piper grabs Alex's hair and holds it behind her neck; her other hand strokes Alex's back, instinctively soothing even as she curses the timing under her breath.
When she's emptied the contents of her stomach, Alex is still making harsh, gagging sounds, and at some point Piper can't pinpoint, they give way to sobs.
"Hey...what is it?" Piper asks. Her head is still reeling from Alex's bit of revisionist history, and she can't fathom that Alex is crying about anything else.
But then Alex chokes out something incoherent, and after asking her to repeat it twice, Piper finally hears the phrase my mom, and she forces herself to put everything else aside.
She pulls Alex into her arms, but Piper's only half present; she can't stop thinking about that Brussels drop, how it changed everything, how she could never quite see past Alex going back on her word and asking, how it had been one of the only things Alex had ever done that she couldn't understand.
Except now she does.
And she has no idea what to do with that.
Alex passes out asleep in the bed, barely past seven, and between the lack of sleep last night and the exhaustion of today, Piper's tired enough to follow her after only a few hours.
She hasn't gone to bed so early since grade school, and she wakes up around five thirty, the sky still dark. Piper can tell right away that she's not going to be able to go back to sleep, and it's all she can do not to shake Alex awake and demand a sober explanation.
Instead she dresses quietly in the dark and leaves a Post-It note on her pillow that says Gone for a run. She just needs to be moving, to have something to do.
So Piper jogs a loop around the neighborhood until the sun finally joins her, the roads familiar from long ago bike rides. Piper had only been allowed to bring her bike to Alex's with a fight, and only on the condition that she not leave the apartment parking lot; it was an order they blatantly defied, walking much further than Piper ever would have been allowed at home, going on their own to the video store, the YMCA playground, or Friendly's.
Alex had this hot pink bike with streamers on the end and a white basket pasted with flowers; it looked childish even at nine years old, and it was girlier than Alex probably would have chosen at any age, but Diane had found it at a yard sale and Alex never seemed to mind. She'd fill the basket with snacks, tapes, and her Walkman, the headphones looped over the edge and turned to full volume.
Piper runs until her muscles are screaming from the unexpected overuse, until the paintbrush colors of the sunrise have given way to everyday sky. She sits down on a curb and wipes the sweat from her eyes, sick of crying but feeling it coming on for no singular reason.
When the tears become a real threat, she stands up and heads back toward the apartment, running even harder.
Alex isn't in the bed when she gets back to the apartment, but it takes a second for Piper to hear the muffled gagging sounds coming from the bathroom.
The door is slightly ajar, so Piper tentatively approaches. "Al? You okay?'
"Jesus fuck," Alex gasps out in a ragged voice.
Piper interprets that as an invitation to come in. Alex is on her knees on the floor, draped over the toilet; Piper perches herself on the edge of the tub, once again smoothing back Alex's hair. "Lotta tequila shots," she murmurs pointless. "And I don't think you ate anything all day."
"No shit..." Alex mumbles before her body lurches with a fresh dry heave.
Piper winces in sympathy. "I'll make us some breakfast...you need hangover food."
"That's usually my job."
"So I'll return the favor." Piper sits for a moment, absently passing the bunch of Alex's hair through her hands in continuous succession, contemplating the wisdom of asking Alex about the Brussels drop when she's in this position.
"You can go." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Alex turns her head with what looks like great difficulty, squinting up at Piper through slitted, bloodshot eyes. "I mean, go start breakfast. I may crawl into the shower."
Reluctantly, Piper stands up. "Yell if you need anything."
It takes forty-five minutes before Alex emerges; her hair is wet and she's not wearing pants and she still looks wrecked, but least she's upright. "Sorry about last night."
Piper pushes a soda and a bottle of aspirin at Alex. "If you ever had an excuse to get good and trashed, it was yesterday. And this is from someone who's done it without an excuse."
"I wish I hadn't, though. I feel like I owed it to her to just...stay sad and sober." Before Piper can think of a way to respond to that, Alex asks, "Do I need to apologize to anyone?" Off Piper's confusion, she clarifies, "Beth? Anybody else there?"
"Oh, no. You barely even talked to them. Just kind of camped out at the bar." Piper watches carefully as Alex frowns. "Do you not remember?"
She laughs humorlessly. "Not really. The funeral I'm fucking crystal clear on, of course. Restaurant's kind of fuzzy."
Piper swallows hard, forcing a casual tone, "Do you remember what you told me? Last night?"
Alex's face pinches in confusion. "About...?"
She doesn't look at her when she says it. "That Fahri and Kubra made you tell me to carry that suitcase."
There's a long, weighty pause, and Piper keeps her back to Alex, stirring pancake mix at the counter. Then, in a flat, resigned voice, she hears, "Fuck."
Piper turns around. "Why didn't you just tell me in the first place?"
There it is, the question that's been clamped on her tongue all night long...and Alex ignores it. She pulls herself up to sit on the edge of the counter, brow furrowed in confusion. "What were we talking about? Why'd I say that?"
"Damnit, Alex." Piper's palm smacks the top of the counter, and Alex looks first startled and then annoyed by the outburst, but she doesn't know how many times she already refused to answer. "It's not my fault you decided to get black out drunk, I'm not giving you a full transcript." Alex jerks her eyes away, angry and embarrassed, and Piper feels a distant stirring of shame, but she shoves it aside. "You told me Kubra was worried about me witnessing everything, and that Fahri said you had to implicate me. So. Why the fuck didn't you just say that when you asked, instead of giving some bullshit about how you guys were desperate?"
Alex looks back at her with an expression Piper recognizes, a mix of guilt and defiance, this maddening look Alex gets when she knows she did something wrong but is standing by it anyway. "Because I didn't want you to know Kubra had a problem with you being there. I didn't want to start talking about witnesses or crime because I figured you'd get too freaked out. I always did that, Piper...I never wanted you to think of it that way. Like it was dangerous." Then, with the slightest bit of derision, she adds, "I knew it wouldn't take much for you to run."
Breathless, disbelieving laughter bursts out of her. "Are you kidding? That's the most fucked up logic I've ever heard..."
Alex rolls her eyes. "Right, you wouldn't have been at all freaked out to hear that Kubra didn't like having you around."
"I was freaked out anyway, Alex! It didn't matter what the reason I had to do it was..." Piper stares at her, finally, fully realizing, "You really don't understand how much that scared me, do you?"
"Oh, c'mon, Pipes - "
"No, of course, you don't. You're talking about wanting to keep me from thinking of it as dangerous, but believe me, I had plenty of time to think while I was on that plane, or standing on baggage claim while the suitcase didn't show up. I was very fucking aware of the danger - "
"I told you, I would never let your name get dragged into anything. I'd have said I carried the goddamn suitcase - "
"Not just the dangers of it being illegal, Alex. What if the bag hadn't shown up? What if I'd gotten scared and bailed? You even said Kubra would have had me killed - "
"I was joking - wait." Alex's eyes widen and she shoots Piper a startled, wounded look. "Do you really think I would have let anything happen to you? Ever?"
Piper's eyes soften; choosing her words carefully, she says, "I think...you should know by know...that you can't control everything, Alex." Her throat narrows, and she gentles her voice, "You can't stop bad things from happening."
Alex's face tightens, but she doesn't look away. They look at each for a weighty moment, until finally Alex asks quietly, "Would it have made a difference?"
"What?"
"If I'd told you that from the beginning. Would that have really changed anything?"
"Yeah." Piper doesn't have to think about it. "Alex, you've done a lot of things I never wanted to understand. Joining the cartel, lying about it, all that mess with the fucking heroin...but I know you, I know the way you think, and it always ended up making some sort of sense. Even if I didn't want to, I ended up understanding. But this...I just didn't get. You'd promised to keep me out of it, and you went back on that, and it just never made sense...and now I know why."
Alex's face gives away nothing as she absorbs this. "Well, now you know," she says eventually, and there's the barest hint of fetal hope in her voice that nearly does Piper in.
"Yeah. Guess so." Piper turns back to the counter, unable to keep looking at Alex, because she's scared she knows what's coming next.
It does.
"Fahri wants me in Germany in a few days."
"I know, you told me," Piper says flatly.
"I'm...looking at flights for Tuesday night. Should probably buy the tickets today."
It's not phrased as a question, but the plural dangles there. Damn her.
She's going to make Piper say it.
"Alex...I can't go with you."
The declaration falls between them like a guillotine. There's an excruciating pause before Alex says bitterly, "So it doesn't make that much of a difference."
"Fuck, Alex, that's not...if I'd wanted to leave just because of Brussels, I'd have left months ago."
"So, what? You stick it out through the funeral and now you're done?"
"That's not fair," Piper says softly. "This isn't news. You wanted me here. And I wanted to be, Alex, you know that." She swallows hard, trying, "I want to be with you. You aren't what I want to leave, but I can't take the cartel anymore. I can't keep living in hotels and waiting for you to have time off work."
Alex tilts her gaze toward the ceiling, huffing out a low, humorless laugh. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"
"Don't go." Piper's voice comes out breathy, desperate.
Alex closes her eyes, and Piper feels her own tiny embers of hope, trying to ignite.
And then Alex whispers, "Fuck you, Piper."
"What?"
Alex's eyes fly open, her face stony. "God, you are so fucking predictable. You always do this, you know, try put the choice on me, like you aren't the one making decisions, but don't fool yourself here, Pipes. I may be the one getting on a plane, but you're the one leaving. You're ending this. I'm just going back to where I'm supposed to be, back to our life, the one we've been living for two years - "
"But it's not our life, Alex! It's yours !" The words hurl out of Piper before she can stop them. "I didn't have a plan, and the only thing I was sure of was that I missed you, so I just...followed you and waited around while you worked but...that meant I put off finding anything for myself."
The momentum stalls, the fire in Alex's eyes cooling to ice. Her voice is quiet, pulled tight. "I didn't make you do that."
"I know." Piper's voice softens, the fight draining out of her. "It's not your fault, but...it's still true. It's still a problem."
Alex won't look at her. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Piper thinks of something Alex said to her back in college, during the fight that led to their breakup: you want me to fit into your life exactly the way it is now.
It hits her how long they've been doing this to each other, and suddenly she feels aching, bone deep exhaustion. Quietly, she asks, "Ever notice that it hasn't really been our life since high school?"
Slowly, Alex lifts her head. "You're right." Her face is riot of pure loss. "So maybe it's time we both grow the hell up and stop trying."
Tears are clawing their way up Piper's throat, and she feels sick with panic. "Alex."
Alex vaults off the counter, crossing the apartment to the bedroom. All the life is drained out of her voice. "I've gotta empty out the apartment before I leave. You can help if you want, but...you don't have to stay."
A/N: Clearly I was having some trouble with a split point for this one...but this ended up being the penultimate chapter. One more coming up, and then we're done with this one.
I think. Probably. There's always a chance there could be two more, with the last one being really short. I never know my stopping points until I get there.