Both woman lost all track of time; they could not have said with any degree of accuracy how long they remained on the floor of Gale's guest room, Sidney's body heavily slumped against Gale in her arms. Gale couldn't remember how she had managed to stand without dropping Sidney or falling, but somehow, impossible as it seemed in hindsight given her own injuries, she had managed to not only get to her feet but pull Sidney up as well. Somehow she had managed to lay Sidney down on the bed and cover her with a blanket, and at some point in time, she had swept up the broken glass from Sidney's outburst into a pile in the corner, far enough away from where they both would watch that it was less likely they would step on something and hurt themselves. When and how she completed all these tasks, Gale had no explanation, but somehow she had dragged herself through them without any memory of doing so.

She didn't remember the officers in Monterey calling her back in response to the reported scene and their findings, but she had even in her not quite present state had the automatic reflex of recording the phone call to listen to later, so she would lose no details to repeat back to Sidney. The officers on the scene confirmed the deaths of Mark and the three children- but also the death of another adult, found in the family living room, under a framed portrait of Sidney, Mark, and the girls. Later, when Gale listened back, she heard and was able to process what she had been told on the phone- that the fifth body was that of a woman in her fifties, dressed in a black robe with the Ghostface mask beside her. The body had been identified as that of Meryl Bailey, and although the officer on the phone indicated it would need to be confirmed by autopsy, he stated it appeared she had died by suicide from a knife cutting her throat.

Meryl Bailey. Gale didn't need any further information to know exactly who she was and why she had slaughtered all that was left of Sidney's family. Meryl Bailey was the wife of Wayne Bailey, the mother of Richie, Ethan, and Quinn. She had murdered the remains of Sidney's family as an act of blame and vengeance for the loss of her own- and then committed suicide, denying Sidney even the ability to seek vengeance of her own against her.

Never mind that Sidney had not killed any of the Baileys, not even Richie- that had been Samantha Carpenter. Never mind that she hadn't even been in the same state in which Wayne, Ethan, and Quinn died. Because Sidney Prescott was the featured "character" of her family's obsession, because Sidney Prescott was the center of it all in every psychotic killer's mind, it was Sidney rather than the Carpenters, the Meeks-Martin twins, or Gale whom had been targeted.

Throughout the last nearly thirty years, Gale had managed to keep up enough walls that she never let anyone matter enough to her for their loss to be devastating when she lost them- because in her life, with the murderers that always came for her, it would always be a when rather than an if that people would die. Only two people had managed to fully penetrate through- Dewey, whose loss still hurt beyond any pain she had ever before experienced, and Sidney.

She didn't know how it was that Sidney could still manage to wake every morning and breathe. With a single loss, Gale had been shattered. Sidney had lost so much more than Gale could ever imagine enduring- both of her parents, so very many friends, including several she had known since childhood. She had lost two boyfriends, a cousin, and a half brother, although all but one of those had been murderers who wanted her dead. She had lost Dewey, who had become more than a friend- he had been family to her, every bit as much as her husband and her girls.

And now her husband and her girls were gone too. Sidney had nothing now, nothing but a life full of all the dead bodies she had once let herself love. Gale knew without a flicker of a doubt that the woman was stronger than she could ever be for letting herself even try to love so many, even with all the danger and grief it would cause.

Gale managed at some point to arrange herself on the bed behind Sidney, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her body back into her own. It hurt to hold Sidney, but Gale could think of nothing else she could do for her, just to get her through every passing, pained second. She held onto Sidney, listening to the other woman's rasping breaths, and knew even as she did that it could not be enough. She, Gale, could not be enough to replace her loss- she could only care for her in its aftermath.

Sick as it was, it crossed Gale's mind in the long hours that followed that they had been rendered equal now in some way. Sidney had been all that was left of Gale's world who really mattered. Now, Gale held the same position for her.

Gale lost time somehow. She had no idea how she managed to get Sidney off the floor and onto the bed, how she stood herself without passing out. Somehow she managed. Somehow she cleaned up the mess on her bedroom floor and lay down in bed beside her, spooning Sidney from behind, knowing even as she did that no matter how much she held her or showed her care, it wouldn't be enough. It could never be enough.

When Sidney's phone continued to vibrate, Gale let it the texts and calls go to voicemail. Sidney was in no position to answer any phone calls about anything, from anyone. She would let Sidney rest, even if she couldn't sleep, for as long as Sidney would let her body remain still, frozen with the trauma of her enormous loss. Everything could wait now. Nothing was as important as being there to witness and absorb every moment Sidney was going through in time with her.

It was Sidney who finally drew herself out of her daze into reluctant, determined reality of life going on, no matter how much she might want it to rewind or do over. Her head barely lifting off of the pillow Gale had placed under it, she looked towards her with eyes so dark with despair and blurred from living in an altered time and reality that Gale couldn't quite tell where her pupils separated from her irises.

"I have to take care of them," she mumbled. "I have to see them. I have to take care of them, they need me."

Gale didn't need to ask what Sidney was saying, despite the lack of names or clarifications of pronouns. She too had been thinking of the all too soon necessity of Sidney going back to Monterey, making arrangements for the funerals, preparation of remains, and what to do with the house, once it had been released from crime scene status. She couldn't imagine Sidney wanting to go back and live in the large, spacious home that had once been her family's safety, not after the memories of their murders in each room had been burned so vividly into her mind. But Sidney had no choice but to go back, at least for a time- as she had said, to take care of the family she had loved.

"Okay," she said to her softly, squeezing her hand. "Let's do this. Let's go take care of them."

There would, of course, be no option besides Gale going with her.

Gale still wasn't supposed to be overly exerting herself in her movements, but she packed suitcases for both of them, gathering what she could identify as Sidney's belongings and what she thought she would need for at least a few weeks in California. Whatever they forgot, they could buy. She booked them the first flight they could with minimal layover and then, with this accomplished, began to walk Sidney through getting ready to leave.

Sidney would respond, just barely, when spoken to, and would follow instructions given, though with a jerky, mechanical quality that seemed as though she had only recently learned how to carry out the actions she was attempting to complete. But she did respond, and so with Gale's prompts, she was able to dress herself, brush her teeth, and wash her face. She let Gale touch her, stiff and unresponsive, in order to brush her hair, and at the airport, she pulled her wheeled suitcase along with her, her face a blank mask concealing her pain. She refused Gale's efforts to get her to eat something, drank water only when Gale insisted on it, and although she allowed her to hold her hand, waiting for their plane, her hand stayed limp and lax in the other woman's, not returning her grasp.

Gale felt helpless, one of the feelings she most despised. She wanted, needed to do something to make things better and easier for Sidney. She wanted so badly to be able to take on just some of her anguish, to spend enough money or prepare enough needed actions for her that Sidney could even for a moment feel lighter. But no matter how much she did for her, no matter how much she wanted to fix things for her, she knew it was impossible to make any meaningful impact on what Sidney was forced to go through. And for Gale, that hurt- god, did that fucking hurt.

It wasn't just her powerlessness that stung. She hurt for the loss of Mark, whom she had become fond of and developed trust for over his ten years of marriage to Sidney, and for the three little girls whom had been the only children Gale had ever let herself grow attached to. She hurt for the senselessness of their deaths, the end of all the potential good and light they would bring to this dark and miserable world. Most of all, she hurt for Sidney, for the utter desolation that now colored her eyes.

Gale knew what it was to lose a husband, though hers was technically an ex at the time. She could understand and empathize all too well with Sidney's loss of Mark, because of her own loss of Dewey, still a wound not quite scarred over in full. But she couldn't begin to even imagine what it was like to lose a child- not just one, but three. It was one of many reasons she had been adamant, whatever Dewey's thoughts otherwise, that she would never have children, biological or otherwise. Besides the interference with her career, besides the fact that Gale Weathers had never been mothered much herself and couldn't begin to envision how to spend her daily life actively mothering someone else, she couldn't allow for the very real likelihood of loving a child, only to experience its death by yet another Ghostface, simply for its misfortune of belonging to her.

But Sidney had always been braver than her, in her own quiet way. She had taken the risk of starting a family, starting a life that didn't revolve around personal solitude and emotional walls. For eleven years, she had a life Gale sometimes envied but would never try to imitate, and now she was suffering for it, as Gale had always feared would be the outcome.

Aboard the plane, Gale gave Sidney the seat by the window, allowing her the most distance from others that was possible. She had bought three seats rather than just two, not wanting the possibility of a stranger seated with them in their row. Sidney leaned her forehead against the window and didn't speak, didn't move, and though her eyes remained open, she seemed not quite present in her body. She gave no reaction to Gale asking her if she wanted something to eat or drink, and though she again allowed her to take her hand, she continued not to return its hold. The air around her felt so dark and heavy that Gale found it harder and harder to keep still, and eventually it felt difficult even to draw in breaths.

When Gale stood, telling Sidney she was going to the bathroom, Sidney didn't seem to hear her and showed no reaction to her moving apart from her. Gale's reassurance that she would be back soon also provoked no response. Gale knew she shouldn't leave her alone, that it probably wasn't right, but she wasn't alone, not really. There were flight attendants and other passengers, and although none of them could be trusted, it was unlikely that someone had managed to sneak a weapon to harm her with through the airport checkpoints. For just a few minutes, Sidney would be safe while Gale escaped to the bathroom- not because she needed its use, but because she needed time and space to pull herself the fuck together before she completely lost control in one way or another.

The airplane bathroom was tiny, as they always were, the small mirror above the sink foggy and distorted to Gale's eyes- or was that how she saw things now, as not quite real or right? She stared, unable to connect the woman in the mirror with the image she mentally carried of herself. It was true that her entire body throbbed with pain, and she could see the strain of this and of her refusal to move from Sidney's side since she first viewed her video messages in the dark shadows in and underneath her eyes. Gale hadn't bothered with makeup, had barely taken time to brush her teeth or hair, and had dressed herself in the first thing she could manage to pull on without Sidney's help. Staring at her own reflection, she thought grimly that no one would ever look at her now and recognize her as Gale Weathers. She was barely recognizable as human.

As Gale looked at her reflection fixedly, forcing herself to take in the appearance she didn't want to acknowledge as her own, she felt pain jolt up her injured shoulder and side and realized she was balling up her fists with enough tension to pull at her wounds. She felt a strong urge to punch something, somebody, but there was no one there but herself and the smudged glass. It would hardly be a smart move to punch out at that- she had enough injuries to deal with as it was.

A tremor started low in her legs and worked its way up, building through her torso and chest until Gale felt immense pressure to try to hold herself still, to try to keep herself composed. She looked down at the small space of the bathroom floor, nails digging into the palms of her hands, and breathed. She didn't realize she was crying until the warm dampness of tears hit her neck, and she cursed herself for the lapse, lifting her hands and swiping fiercely at her cheeks with their heels. But the tears reemerged as soon as she banished them, and she soon gave up. Covering her face, she let herself release two short, breathless sobs, stifling the noise into her palms.

Get it together, Gale, she told herself without any level of self empathy. Fucking get it together, get back to Sidney, and get through. There was no other option.

So that was what she did. She pulled herself together with effort, scrubbing at her face with the bathroom's rough paper towels, and then with a final steadying breath, returned to Sidney's side. It didn't matter that Sidney didn't look up as she sat down with her again or acknowledge that she had even noticed or cared about her absence. It mattered that Gale was back with her, that she was taking Sidney's hand in hers, and that she would be there to hold it until their flight came to an end.