Somewhere along the way, Piper just isn't bothered by it anymore.
The lights flicker and then go out. A book falls from the shelf, hitting the floor with a slap. Footsteps upstairs, down the hall and into one of the bathrooms, then back again – over and over.
A few friends have spent the night and they swear with the morning light that someone shook them awake, some phantom hand rousted them from slumber – cold touch to the shoulder, rough and annoyed – but their eyes found nothing when they blinked their way open.
Piper just smiles and shrugs.
"This place is haunted. What do you expect?"
/ /
"You need to add more flour."
The talking came after that initial year, after Piper didn't budge and after Piper unpacked all her things; the talking came as a last resort, that's how Piper sees it, a last resort for some ticked-off spirit that just won't leave this two-story fixer-upper.
"I know how to make a pie crust. I've been making pies since forever."
There is a disembodied huff of laughter, a breath of humor, and Piper can actually feel it against the back of her neck; it sends chills up and down her spine, but she's not scared and that is probably the scariest thing of all.
"Yeah, well, I bet I was baking ages before you were, kid."
Piper smiles, though, smiles into her white-caked hands because she's never been called that before - "kid" - and she likes it.
/ /
Piper knows that it is a woman. Piper knows that this woman likes to make people nervous, pulling at their sheets and whispering nonsense into their ears. Piper knows that this woman watches her sometimes, she can feel it – that invisible gaze – as it trails over her face, over her arms, over her bare feet.
Piper wonders, idly at times, what this woman once looked like and if her face would fit her voice – warm and raspy, like clove cigarettes – and Piper wonders, as she disrobes by the bathtub, if this woman is watching her right now...
...and Piper shakes her head like she's gone insane.
/ /
It's a pleasant enough dream that's she is having, colors brighter than they should be but that's dreams for you, right? And she is walking up the staircase, walking into her bedroom, pushing the curtains aside and it is so hot, too hot, and she tries to open the windows but they won't fucking budge.
I knew I should have had them replaced, Piper thinks as she wipes her forehead and stares at the sweat on her skin, but someone is turning her around, someone that she cannot see is pulling her, pulling her back to the foyer, to the front door, and shoving her outside.
And Piper sees their face, somehow knowing that it is her – the woman – and Piper cannot help but grin at her, grinning at her pretty black hair and at her pretty green eyes and at her pretty red, full lips.
"Wake up, kid, and go outside, okay?"
Piper nods dumbly, still smiling.
"Okay."
/ /
The wiring in this house is for shit, Piper was fully aware of that when she moved in, but she thought she had a little more time before a loose spark caught fire in the wall of what was going to be her 'study' – also known as her books and crap room.
But soon the firefighters leave and the neighbors go back inside of their safe homes and the windows open out here in reality, so Piper lifts up each sill downstairs and tries to will away the scent of charred chestnut and literature.
"I didn't know how else to warn you. You wouldn't wake up when I pushed you."
Piper looks at the mess, pages curled in and turned into ashes, and she sighs without turning towards that voice that lingers somewhere to her right.
"Thank you. Really. Who knew I could sleep that heavily?"
And there it is, brief but unmissable, the sensation of fingertips threading through Piper's hair before those strands are lightly placed behind Piper's ear.
"You're welcome, Piper."
/ /
This dream is better, far far better, but Piper wakes up out of breath anyway – out of breath and with her hand shoved down into her underwear – and the only thing she remembers is the ticklish, lovely feeling of kisses falling onto her body, from the curve of her breasts to her hipbones, and the flash of a green-eyed gaze.
/ /
Piper digs around in this library that is older than the hills, where things like the internet just don't exist, and she sits there with her reading glasses on, scrolling through endless sheets of microfiche.
About an hour goes by and then Piper sees her, right there in black-and-white: Alex Vause, 35, found dead in the living room, one bullet hole through a pane of glass and one bullet straight into the woman's head.
Alex Vause, a former drug-dealer of some importance, an ex-con trying to start over in some middle-class suburb.
Alex Vause, a woman with black-rimmed glasses and a permanent smirk - even in the photo that the newspaper chose for her obituary.
Alex Vause, gone now for ten years, a ghost.
/ /
She waits for a little while and when Alex doesn't make her presence known, Piper sits down on the floor by the stairs – one leg stretched out, one leg bent with her knee as a coaster for her bottle of beer – and she tilts her head back.
"Hey, Alex!"
She shouts it, listens as it carries upwards and then is absorbed by the walls, and Piper is still looking elsewhere when she hears the sound of someone walking, footsteps coming close and then stopping right by her.
"Well, you've been busy..."
Piper takes another sip of her beer, sliding her stare ever so slowly – as if Alex might disappear if she moves too quickly – but Alex is still there once Piper's eyes land upon her, looking real enough to almost touch, and Piper feels rather drunk suddenly.
"I wanted to be able to call you by your name."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"Because... we are living together..."
Alex laughs at this and Piper's heart lurches within her chest, like an engine finally turning over, and she takes another sip of her beer, a long long sip.
"That's not entirely true, now is it?"
And it isn't, of course, because the only one who is alive here is Piper.
/ /
They work out some kind of routine, though.
Piper doesn't know how Alex does it – they've yet to have the 'what's it like being dead and how do you still do shit?' conversation – but every morning that finds Piper stumbling into the kitchen, there is her favorite mug, filled with coffee.
There's never enough sugar, but Piper sure as hell isn't complaining.
"Thanks, honey."
Piper has taken to murmuring that each and every time, always eagerly awaiting Alex's reaction – usually it is a derisive chuckle, sometimes, if Piper is lucky, the woman pushes her shoulder and calls her a 'dumbass'.
It's not as endearing as being called 'kid', but Piper is left smiling wide all the same.
But the evenings are better somehow, with Piper peeling back the burnt wallpaper while Alex separates the salvageable books from the trash, and once they take a small break – well, Piper takes a break, she doubts that Alex needs one – Alex thumbs her way through another novel, clear and concise tone as she reads aloud, and Piper watches her like she is the most fascinating person in the entire world.
Piper thinks that this would be a truth even if Alex were alive, though.
They wish each other good-night, Alex receding from the upstairs hallway – a gorgeous shadow slipping across the wall – and Piper goes to bed with butterflies in her stomach, strangely frustrated and wired, and it feels too much like attraction, too much like desire, and this is madness, isn't it?
"This is madness."
And it is, of course, because it is fucking crazy to want a ghost as much as Piper wants Alex.
/ /
"Am I dreaming of you... or are you in my dreams?"
It is kind-of hilarious to be asking this in what Piper assumes already to be a dream, but beggars cannot be choosers and the question just falls from her mouth. Alex lays down beside her, the bed dipping slightly under the other woman's weight, and they are only a few inches away from each other and that sends Piper's body into some kind of tailspin – harder to breathe, lots of blinking, fidgeting hands.
Alex is grinning at her right now, a really sexy and shit-eating grin at that, and Piper has to fight off the overwhelming urge to lean forward and press her lips to that goddamn grinning mouth.
"Both."
Piper nods her head as if she understands anything other than her own raging libido, words remaining dormant on her useless tongue, and then Alex does shift closer, close enough that Piper can stare into the woman's eyes and see all the colors – green, yes, but also hints of gold, something iridescent around the pupil.
They are the most beautiful eyes that Piper has ever seen.
"Can I touch you?"
It is just another question that tumbles out of Piper, hushed yet laden with so much yearning, and even though Alex's smile slowly fades, there is still a hint of amusement in that damn lovely gaze.
"I don't know, kid... Can you?"
And, really, that's the only invitation that Piper needs.
/ /
She can't tell her friends and she wouldn't ever mention it to her mother – even if the other party were a living person – and there isn't an online forum for this kind of thing... or maybe there is, but she doesn't really want to find out if there is or not...
...it's just that Piper is lying here, wonderfully sore and mostly naked, staring at the ceiling above her bed while she tries desperately to make sense of what just happened, of what she just let happen, and Piper wishes that she could tell someone about all of this – about the house, about the feelings, about Alex...
...but, you know, if nothing else, Piper really wishes she could tell someone about the fact that she just had the best fucking orgasm of her entire life.
/ /
Five days.
That's how long it's been since Piper has heard or seen anything of Alex Vause - which has to be taking the morning-after rule just a bit too far - and so Piper has stopped calling out the woman's name every morning as her mounting anxiousness now shifts into straight-up anger.
Five days. Five goddamn days.
"I mean, who the hell does that, right? How dare she do all of that with me and then just disappear? And how can she even disappear anyway? She's a ghost in this place! It's not like she can just up and leave!"
Piper grits her teeth, tired of talking to herself like this and tired of wanting Alex around at all, and the dish-towel in her hands becomes a perfect non-damaging weapon and she thwacks it against the table – again and again, harder and harder – and by the time she is done with her mini-tantrum, Piper is breathing heavily.
"Feel better?"
Under normal circumstances, Piper would have been startled by suddenly hearing another person's voice in an otherwise empty house; however, there is nothing normal about any of this and so Piper's reaction to Alex just popping up is one of extreme irritation more than anything else.
"You...," and Piper emphasizes this by pointing at Alex, "...can fuck right off."
Alex doesn't fuck right off, though. Alex just stands there with her arms crossed and with an infuriatingly attractive smirk dancing along her lips.
"Not in the mood to talk to me anymore? And here I thought you wanted to chat, what with you bellowing my name all the time..."
Piper grips the towel in her hands all the tighter as her anger spikes once more and what makes it worse is that Alex seems to be enjoying it, seems to be getting a kick out of watching Piper grow more and more incensed.
"God, why are you being such an asshole? I let you into my bed, into my life... Fuck, Alex, we slept together! And then you just left, like it didn't mean a damn thing to you, like I didn't mean anything to you..."
The smirk is gone from Alex's face now and whatever expression that has taken its place is one that Piper doesn't like – it is cold, it is blank – and when Alex starts to walk towards her, Piper finds her own feet moving backwards, back and back until she bumps into the edge of the counter-top.
But it's only when Alex is right in front of her that this air of indifference seems to falter, seems to crack and fracture just enough for Piper to catch a glimpse of sadness, of resignation, and that's when Piper gets it, you know?
That's when Piper gets the attitude, that's when Piper gets the vanishing act.
"It was a mistake, Piper."
"No. No, you don't mean tha-"
"Yes, I do. Whatever it is that we are doing here, it's going to stop."
That's when Piper gets that Alex is about to put an end to all of this.
"How nice of you to make this decision for the both of us, Alex."
"Well, one of us has to think clearly and it sure isn't going to be you, now is it?"
That's when Piper gets that Alex is going to fade away for good.
"And I guess my feelings don't matter, hmm? I guess it doesn't matter that I like you, right? That I really fucking like you a lot and that I want you here all the time, I guess none of it fucking matters to you at all, does it?"
It is languid the way that Alex moves, reaching over and softly trailing her fingertips along Piper's cheek, sliding through the tears that Piper didn't even realize were rolling down her face.
"Jesus, kid... None of this matters because I am dead."
And that's when Piper gets that Alex is going to leave her behind.
/ /
The first few weeks are absolutely shitty.
No more unexplainable sounds. No more comments from the ether. No more shared laughter or curious staring. No more dreams that actually feel like reality, no more tension to figure out and no more rampant longing to deal with.
No more Alex Vause - that's the truth of things now and Piper fucking hates it.
She has to bite her tongue, she has to catch herself constantly, she has to not look around like the woman is going to suddenly step out a wall or something, she has to shake her head and close her eyes and keep on telling herself that this is all for the better...
...right?
And she tells herself to go out, to mingle with friends at bars, to go dancing with drunken fools until three in the morning, to allow far too much bourbon to make far too many of her decisions – sloppy kissing and hilarious stumbling that turns into singular nights of haphazard passion and misplaced names.
And she tells herself to forget – forget Alex's face, forget Alex's voice, forget Alex's everything – but, of course, all she does is remember; all she does is push memories around like a piece of furniture she cannot seem to place, from here to there and yet it never looks right anywhere she puts it.
But, really, nothing looks right and nothing feels right and there's nothing that Piper can do about it.
Because it is all Alex Vause's fault and Alex Vause just isn't here anymore.
/ /
"Hey, Pipes... I can't find my toothbrush. Again."
They met through friends of friends and, in all honesty, Piper wasn't that into him – at least, not at first. But one date became two and then two dates became four and so on and then, one day, Piper came to the conclusion that she was actually in a relationship with someone.
Larry – sweet, self-depreciating, struggling writer Larry - stands there in her bedroom, in his t-shirt and boxer shorts and with a perplexed furrow upon his brow.
"Hmm?" Piper glances up distractedly from the newspaper she has been reading, determined to stay in bed for as long as she can on this somewhat chilly Sunday morning.
"My toothbrush. It's gone. This is, like, the third one."
"Did you look in the cabinet?"
"You know I did, Piper, just like all the other times... It's weird, that's all. How can a toothbrush just disappear into thin air?"
And while Larry wanders back to the bathroom, muttering about having to put toothpaste on his index finger, Piper is thinking about how things don't usually just disappear into thin air and the newspaper that she had been enjoying is now not so interesting and...
It's been months. It's been nearly seven months.
Larry bounds back to bed, sliding in beside her and placing a minty-fresh kiss to her cheek, but Piper cannot seem to do anything other than blink as if coming out of a daze.
"Pipes...? You okay?"
Fuck. No.
Piper just shrugs, though, and does her best to smile.
"Yeah. I'm great."
/ /
It works, for a while, to pretend that she doesn't care at all.
It works, for a while, to always keep her focus elsewhere – on Larry, on her job, on going out.
It works, for a while, to say the words out loud - "Don't do it, Piper, don't you dare..." - like a mantra tattooed to her tongue, spoken the second she opens the front door.
It works, for a while, and then Larry is over for the weekend and he makes a show of placing his new toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink, but when early morning comes - Piper all groggy as she fumbles her way to turning on the bathroom light – she is greeted by the sight of Larry's toothbrush floating in the toilet.
And just like that, Alex Vause is back to being all that Piper can think about.
/ /
Larry is out of town and the phone is off the hook and Piper has had four glasses of wine, with more certainly to come, and her nerves make themselves known in the way her tipsy heart still manages to beat way too hard.
But Larry is out of town and the phone is off the hook and Piper cannot seem to stop herself, though she has damn well tried, and her lips part in a whisper first - "...Alex?" - before she clears her throat and says that name like she means it.
"Alex!"
Less of a question, more of a command, and she waits – holding her breath, gripping the stem of her wine glass – and the minutes tick on by, with the silence of this house becoming unbearable, and Piper almost growls in annoyance.
"I know you are here. I know you can hear me...," Piper proceeds to top off the drink she hasn't even finished yet, resolute in her efforts to get completely shit-faced, "...I know you keep getting rid of my boyfriend's toothbrush, too, you asshole."
And then there she is, so startling yet fucking perfect all at the same time, there is Alex Vause – grinning like a mischievous little brat, arms crossed and leaning against door frame.
Piper stares for a moment, lost in running her gaze over every detail of Alex's face, but then she is moving – sitting the wine glass down onto the floor, sidestepping the stacks of books yet to be shelved, walking towards the other woman with unnerving aim – and Piper watches as that satisfied smile slowly dissolves from those lips, as something a lot like sheepishness hangs around the corners of Alex's eyes.
"So... uh, look, Piper-"
But whatever Alex was going to say – in explanation or in defense – Piper chooses to ignore it, smoothly interrupting with words of her own.
"Can I touch you?"
And it is familiar, this inquiry, and Alex tilts her head to side – clearly caught off guard – but this time, Alex does not respond with a joke. The woman just nods her head 'yes.'
And there are a lot things that Piper wants to do, thanks to that bone-deep ache that has been reawakened; there are a lot of places on Alex that she'd like to caress, that she'd like to taste, that she'd like make a map upon with her fingertips.
But, for right now, Piper settles on shoving Alex as hard as she possibly can.
"Fuck you, Alex."
And Alex stumbles and Piper shoves her again.
"Fuck. You."
And Piper shoves her again, palms growing hot with days and days of anger, of sadness, and Alex doesn't even try to stop her, doesn't do a damn thing but take it.
"Fuck you, Alex! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"
And Piper shoves her again, shoves her again and again until a wall gets in the way, and Piper knows that she is starting to cry, knows that she is totally out of control, and her hands are pressing hard against Alex's shoulders – holding the woman place, still stupidly desperate to keep her here – but everything falls into place when Alex reaches up...
...reaches up and cups Piper's damp face, cups Piper's damp face and leans in close, leans in close and kisses Piper, kisses Piper like it is the only thing in the whole wide world that matters...
...and there are a lot of things that Piper wants to do, but - for right now - Piper settles on this.
/ /
"Are you out of breath? How can that even happen? You're a ghost."
"I'm a ghost?"
Piper rolls her eyes even as a small smile tugs her lips upwards and she squeezes the hand held within her own with a little more force, earning herself a chuckle from the woman sitting beside her.
"I don't know the reasons or anything, but it can take a lot of energy to come into contact with you."
"But what about, you know... what we did that night...?"
Their eyes meet and Alex smirks at her and dear god, Piper hates just how much she has missed the sight of that goddamn smirk and she has to stomp down on every urge to practically catapult forward and wipe away the knowing slant of those lips with her own.
"You mean sex, Piper? Is that what you are referring to so delicately?"
Piper just responds by raising her other hand and flipping Alex the bird, which ends up bringing huge smiles to both of their faces.
"It's easier to get inside of a person's head, it's not as draining for me... especially when they are sleeping. That's how I spooked the people who had this place before you, kid. Gave them a few nightmares and banged around the attic until they were freaked out enough to leave."
Piper sort-of laughs, not at all surprised that Alex would do something like that, but she admonishes her anyway.
"That wasn't very nice of you."
"Never said I was a very nice person."
"Yeah, well, that much is true..."
Piper looks down at their joined hands, wondering if this is wearing Alex out and yet unable to let go, and she brushes her thumb over one of Alex's knuckles – amazed at how real Alex always feels, solid and only slightly cool to the touch, as if the woman had just been outside in these temperatures that are starting to continually drop.
"You tried to get rid of me, too."
"Yeah... Yeah, I did."
"It didn't work."
Alex sighs and nothing has ever sounded more weary to Piper's ears and so she keeps on staring at where their fingers overlap, afraid that this is just another good-bye in the making, afraid that she'll always be in love with Alex Vause – a woman who died years ago, a ghost who just happens to be holding onto Piper's hand; Piper is afraid that she'll always end up having to watch Alex walk away.
"I'm sorry, Piper. I'm sorry that I came into your dreams that night, that I slept with you, and I'm sorry that I bailed on you for months. I'm sorry that I keep fucking with your boyfriend's stuff and I'm sorry... I'm just really sorry that I don't know how to stay away from you."
Now Alex is the one looking off, following the floorboards like they hold all the answers to their predicament, but Piper pulls and pulls until Alex is forced to meet her gaze and Piper knows that this is madness – just like the last time, just like all the damn time – but if Alex is finding it difficult to keep away, then, really, there's only one solution that Piper can think of.
"Then don't stay away. Be here, Alex... Be here with me."
/ /
Larry took the break-up a little hard, but when he pressed her about it, Piper just hung up on him.
And she didn't bother to explain the state of things to any of her friends because they would never understand the truth and, to be perfectly honest, Piper doesn't feel like telling them anything at all anyway.
Oh, sure, Alex had a million and one excuses on why this wouldn't work, on why it couldn't work:
"We can't go out on dates."
"You can't tell anyone about me."
"What if you want more one day, like to get married or have kids?"
"I'll have to take breaks when it comes to, you know, being with you and won't you get tired of that?"
At that point, Piper kissed the woman just to shut her the hell up.
It's not like Piper thinks that this will be simple, but what relationship is? And yeah, Larry was a good guy – complete with a beating heart and blood still flowing – but Larry never was and never could be Alex and Alex is the only one that Piper wants.
And Piper is all about getting what she wants.
/ /
"Well, you took your sweet ass time, didn't you?"
"Someone is a little impatient and that's not the way to woo a lady..."
Piper laughs at the disgruntled expression that Alex is sporting, but her hands are not interested in humor at all – slyly finding their way up under the shirt that Alex has on - and Piper does her best to stifle a moan at the feeling of Alex's skin against her own, but she totally fails.
And all of this is still occurring in the deepest part of Piper's slumber, far beyond the first hour or so of sleep, but the sensations are just as visceral and when Alex finally slips her tongue into Piper's mouth, it's like someone has set off goddamn fireworks within her body.
Normally, they take their time, but tonight is different – Alex had to rest up for more than a week and Piper made a decision to abstain from any personal pleasure in an effort to be supportive – and Alex doesn't bother to remove Piper's underwear, opting instead to just push them aside, and then Alex is inside of her...
...they move without ceasing, Piper's hips rising quick with every one of Alex's thrusts, and they kiss recklessly, lips colliding, and Alex is almost shaking as she presses herself onto one of Piper's thighs and Piper cannot think of anything more beautiful than this, more right than this...
...and she tugs Alex into her, so far into her that it's like there is no difference between the two of them anymore, and Piper cannot think of anything that is worth more than this, Piper cannot think of anything that means more than this...
"Don't you ever go away again... You can never leave me again..."
A whisper, a plea, and the words fall into this dream, there amongst the heated breaths and the delicious gasps of their impending release, and Piper's eyes open to see Alex looking right at her.
"Never again, kid..."
Piper digs her nails into Alex's arms as the woman grinds against her, as Alex's thumb slides roughly over her clit, as they dismantle each other and watch those barriers fall – the insanity of all of this, the impossibility of all of this, the inevitability of all of this.
"...I'm yours until the very end."
And Piper cannot think of anything that sounds more perfect than that.
/ /
(end)