With the show ending, I'm not sure how many folks will still be reading. I'm up for continuing, especially this story since it's kinda heading where the show might have been better off going, but only if people are interested. Let me know in reviews or a PM!

It's not her secret to tell, so Amy doesn't.

(She isn't Shane, after all.)

Shane asks, of course, cause he is Shane and he can't not know something, especially when the something in question turned Lauren Cooper into a sobbing and quivering mess who willingly sought comfort in Amy's arms.

Amy can't blame him for wondering. She'd want to know too.

But, as she keeps telling him, it isn't her secret. "I'm not going to out someone, Shane," she says and yeah, maybe she regrets the little extra bite to her words (though the way his eyes drop and he fidgets uncomfortably tells her they hit their mark) but she's trying to make a point, one he just won't get cause he just keeps asking. "If she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

Shane leans back against her closet door and he's clearly pissed and confused and a little hurt and Amy suspects (probably rightly so) that the hurt is because, for once, he's the odd man out, the one not in the know. "She told you," he says. "She doesn't even like you." He shuffles his feet against her carpet and shoves his hands in his pockets, like a pouting child. "Well, she didn't. But now she does and now you two are hanging out and she's going places with us and you have secrets and I just don't like it."

Amy props her head up on her pillow and stares at him, the tiniest of smiles slowly forming on her lips as she fights to keep the laugh down (cause inappropriate moment and all.) "You know who you sound like, right?"

"He sounds like Ashcroft," Lauren says. She's standing in the doorway to their shared bathroom and Amy sits up on the bed at the sound of her voice. "He sounds like a jealous girlfriend which is funny, really, cause the only person I know more into guys than him is her."

Amy and Shane both stare at her in silence (she disappeared ten minutes ago and neither of them was really sure she was ever coming back) and Lauren fidgets in the doorway. It strikes Amy that this might be the first time she's ever seen the other girl uncomfortable with being the center of attention. She's changed (finally) out of her club wear and the tee shirt she's got on is about two sizes too big and that alone would be sign enough that it isn't hers, but the doughnuts dancing across the front seal the deal.

"You OK?"

Amy's eyes dart from Lauren to Shane and she tries to not let the shock that he's the one asking register on her face, but it doesn't matter if it does because Lauren doesn't take the same pains to hide hers, looking at him like he's just sprouted pretty pink wings and started flying through the air tossing glitter in his wake.

(Which is just silly.)

(Shane's wings would so not be pink.)

"I'm…" She shakes her head and crosses the room, settling down on the edge of the bed, in front of Amy, but still keeping a safe distance.. "I'm fine," she says. "Well, I mean obviously I'm not fine, but I'll… manage." The way she says it, the way the word rolls of her tongue with a practiced ease, tells both Amy and Shane all they really need to know.

Lauren 'manages' a lot. More than they ever imagined.

Amy scoots up behind her and throws an arm around Lauren's shoulders, and yeah, she's still just a little surprised when the tiny blonde doesn't immediately push her away. Surprised, but happy, if happy is something she can really feel right now. Still, she thinks, these are the moments when she's almost grateful for this while confusing mess.

Almost.

"I'm sorry about what I said before," Lauren says, looking over at Shane and this time it's his turn to look shocked. "Well… not for what I said cause I stand by that. You don't get it. But I didn't need to rip your head off."

He doesn't say anything and that's weird too, but Amy gets it. She's doing the same thing Shane is: waiting. Waiting for Lauren to say more or to say nothing or to flip them both off and run for the bathroom again. They're waiting and holding their breath, anticipating the other shoe to drop. There is, Amy's discovered, always another shoe.

"I'm not gay," Lauren says, finally breaking her silence. "I like boys. A lot." Her hands twitch in her lap and Amy recognizes it, spots the signs of panic before it hits and she reaches over, lacing her fingers through Lauren's and smiles when the other girl's hands still in her grasp and Lauren shoots her a tiny smile and that's something. "I'm…" She squeezes Amy's hand in her own and lets out a short and shuddering breath. "I'm -"

"Don't," Shane says suddenly, cutting her off and Lauren and Amy's heads both snap up to look at him because they couldn't possibly have heard him right. "You didn't want to tell me," he says. "You never planned on it and if you hadn't been high or hungover or… whatever, it never would have come out."

He's not wrong.

Shane walks to the side of the bed and kneels in front of Lauren, his elbows resting on his thighs and he smiles. "You were right," he says (and Amy's pretty sure it's time to check the temperature in Hell.) "About me and about me not getting it. I don't know what it's like to be you." His eyes drift to Amy. "Or you. I just know what it's like to be me. To be comfortable in my own skin and with who and what I am. To me… hiding who I am or keeping it from the people I care about…"

There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a moment when the boy kneeling in front of her isn't Shane Harvey, he's just Shane and that look tells Amy more than Shane's words ever have. Somewhere along the way, Amy realizes, just Shane didn't have it as easy as he does now. Somewhere along the way, he was her, sort of, (minus, you know, the faking it and the liking girls and the falling in love with the straight best friend, but all the rest) and she's pretty sure Shane doesn't really like remembering just Shane.

Even if she's also pretty sure that might be the best part of him.

"I can't imagine something that would hurt more," he says. "Or something that would…" He laughs a little laugh and shakes his head. "People always say coming out and being honest is the bravest thing you can do, that it takes some serious strength." He reaches out and wraps his hand around Amy and Lauren's. "But to live with… whatever it is… alone and to still be… well… you…"

"Did you just compliment me?" Lauren asks and yeah, she smiles when she says it and there's a bit of that old snark dancing along the words, but there's just enough… hope? (Amy doesn't think that's really the word, but it's the best she's got)... behind it that Amy finds herself praying there's enough just Shane still in there that he doesn't fuck it up.

"Don't let it go to your head," Shane says but there's just enough of that flicker of something or other that Amy saw mixed in with his usual Shane twinkle (the one she knows is only going to cause her trouble) that it breaks the tension. "Probably not enough room in there with your ego and whatnot anyway."

"Probably not," Lauren says. Her fingers close over Shane's and Amy suddenly feels like an intruder in her own room. "And if anyone would know about big egos…"

"And deservedly so," Shane says and they all laugh and he grins and Lauren smiles and Amy (finally) breathes.

They're back. And for now? That's enough.


By the that Sunday afternoon rolls around, Sunday morning has been mostly forgotten (though Amy suspects that 'forgotten' is more code for 'we're not talking about it anymore') (and she's fine with that) and both Shane and Lauren have put aside their 'moment' and refocused on the one thing they don't mind having in common.

Her.

And that, Amy knows, can't end well.

"She needs to tell Karma," Shane says. He's on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling down and his feet in Amy's lap as she paints his toenails.

And yes, that's about as gay as it sounds.

"She needs to tell Karma a lot of things," Lauren says. She's in a chair next to Amy, with the other girl's feet in her lap (and a pair of latex gloves on her hands cause feet) and she's already halfway through the second coat of polish on Amy's little piggies. "Like to get a life of her own and that being a fake lesbian is like the dumbest plan ever and, most importantly, that secretly dating a man whore is a one way ticket to misery."

Amy pauses, the polish brush hovering over Shane's big toe. "Karma has a life of her own," she says (and the other two both note that that's the part Amy objects to.) "Why else would I be sitting here playing boutique bitches with you two?"

She has something of a point.

"Maybe she does," Lauren says though Amy can tell she doesn't believe it (and she can't blame her.) "But you don't and you do," she says. "Need one, I mean."

Amy stiffens and starts to pull away but Lauren holds her ankle and keeps her in place. "I don't want a life without Karma," Amy says, immediately regretting how needy and sad and fucking hopeless it sounds.

"No one said without Karma," Lauren says. "Just one of your own. One that isn't all about Karma because…" She taps the nail brush against Amy's big toe, struggling to find a way to say it without bashing Karma unnecessarily. "Because unless she had the same epiphany you did when you kissed and is desperately hiding it in her secret fling with Booker? You've finally found something you can't share with her."

Amy says nothing, but she nods, slowly. It's not that the thought hadn't occurred to her before now (it had) (a lot) and it definitely crossed her mind when Reagan's tongue was crossing her lips (something like that? Karma's the first person she'd tell and she can't.) but it's also kinda the hardest part of all of this.

"I have to tell her," Amy says softly because, yeah she does.

She just doesn't have the first clue how.


By the time Sunday afternoon is half over, Karma is apparently raring to get to work on their project, or at least that's what seven phone calls and fourteen text messages would indicate and yeah, Amy knows that's probably got more to do with Liam being out of town for the day (or so Shane tells her) and less to do with actually wanting to do school work, but…

She'll take what she can get.

Amy shows up at the Ashcroft's at the appointed time with laptop, research findings, and Jenny in tow. She decides even before walking through the front door that she won't mention that this is the first time she's touched their baby since Friday.

There's already enough to talk about.

Karma waits all of two seconds before she starts in. "There's my baby," she cries as Amy walks in and the blonde is momentarily thrown, looking around for who, exactly, they're keeping up the act for. But then she realizes. Karma's talking about the actual (as in fake) (as in doll) (as in not Amy) baby. Karma plucks Jenny from Amy's arms and coos and cuddles her and Amy worries, for just a minute, that Karma's lost whatever is left of her damn mind.

And then she notices the camera.

"Um… Karms?" Amy nodes in the direction of the webcam hooked to the top of Karma's not nearly new but not old enough to be obsolete (yet) laptop, the tiny red light indicating it's on and recording.

"We're supposed to tape at least one family interaction," Karma whispers, still tickling one finger under her 'daughter's' chin. "Didn't you read the instructions?"

Amy nods like she's just remembered but, apparently she missed that part of the assignment when she was tracking the Box of Doom round the classroom and offering up silent (and unanswered) prayers that it wouldn't land in Karma's lap.

"Did you have fun with Mama?" Karma asks Jenny, cradling the baby in her arms and brushing her very real nose against Jenny's tiny plastic one. "Did she take you for doughnuts again?"

Kill me, Amy thinks. Just fucking kill me and be done with it.

"I'm glad you're home," Karma says and it isn't until Amy pulls her eyes from the webcam that she realizes this time Karma is talking to her and is doing so while standing very close and leaning up and oh, fuck, she's going to kiss her.

Twenty-four hours ago, Amy would have been totally down with that.

But it isn't Saturday anymore.

"Me too," Amy says as she deftly sidesteps the kiss and moves into the room, dropping her bag on the kitchen table. She can feel Karma's eyes on her but she's halfway past the point of giving a fuck so she settles down on the edge of a chair. "How was work, dear?" she asks, playing along for the sake of her grade (and maybe sanity.) " Anything new and exciting happen at the office?"

Karma frowns, confusion all over her face and Amy marvels at how someone as adept at bullshit as Karma is, can be so fuck all at improv. Amy nods her head toward the camera and she can just about envision the light bulb going on over her best friend's head.

"No," she says, "nothing new or different. Same old, same old." Karma continues rocking Jenny back and forth in her arms. Amy remembers that there's some sort of sensor in the doll that tracks things like getting rocked (like those little step counting things her mother uses as an excuse for not going to the gym) and realizes it probably won't be much of a secret that she's done a pretty piss poor job of mothering (or is she the dad?) the little tyke.

Karma sits down in the chair next to her, pulling it closer and Amy manages not to scoot away (or closer) and she chalks that up as a moral victory. She looks down at the baby between them and despite it's terrifying little doll face (and seriously, any parent who bought this for their kid should lose custody immediately) and it's empty haunted eyes and the freakishly pale complexion, she has to admit, it's kind of cute.

Or maybe (more likely) it's the way it looks in it's 'mother's' arms that does it for her.

She tries to think of Shane and Lauren (or Reagan) or pretty much anything else but it's a losing battle and, for the first time since the club (so, you know, like thirteen hours or so) Amy finds herself falling right back down the 'in love with your best friend who is impossibly straight' rabbit hole.

Except now, the urge to climb out is almost as strong as the one she has to stay there forever.

Progress, right?

Karma hands her the baby and reaches over to the computer, shutting down the web cam. "I think that's enough family bonding for one afternoon," she says and Amy nods, setting Jenny gently down onto the table. "You want to get to work or…."

"Or?" Amy asks. 'Or' terrifies her. It frightens her just how quickly (and explicitly) her mind goes to places it shouldn't and she wishes she'd managed to talk Lauren or Shane into coming with her cause she's not sure she has the strength for this, for telling Karma, for…

"Dance Moms?"

Karma's holding up a DVD case and a pint of ice cream she had hidden behind the computer, complete with two spoons.

"Or," she says, "we could watch Dance Moms and eat ice cream and forget about babies and boys and lesbians for a few hours?" She smiles at Amy and the blonde feels her heart skip. "I don't know about you," Karma says, "but I kinda miss… us?"

There have been a few moments (more than a few) since this whole thing started when Amy's thought (briefly) about writing Karma off. About being done with it all and just 'breaking up' with her and letting Liam have her and just disappearing back into the crowd.

But then there are moments like this.

Moments when Amy's reminded that even if she wasn't in love with Karma she'd still love Karma and yeah, she hasn't quite figured out how to reconcile those two yet and she knows she has to tell Karma that but she doesn't know how just yet and she knows it's gonna be a long and ugly and painful process and she's just not ready.

She nods and takes a spoon as she follows Karma into the living room, listening as the redhead chatters away about which episodes they're going to watch and does she remember when this happened and oh, her mother asked if Amy was staying for dinner but she doesn't have to cause it's notmeat-loaf night, but she always comes over for Sunday dinner and they haven't gotten to hang out in so long…

"I'll stay," Amy says, settling down onto the couch. "It's Sunday, after all."