Le Marais, Part 1

Previously: All of Best for Me

A Dev writes: This, as you will all recall, is Resistance!Spashley, set during World War II in France (although not in this first part). The question remains as to whether we can persuade Clom to write the final chapter before I’m finished posting the first 40,000 words.

Rating: X. NSFW. Sex from the very start and sudden vehicular violence.

* * * * *

“Mmm.” Spencer wound her arms around Ashley’s waist and kissed her ear. “You’re cooking.”

“I can cook!” Ashley said defensively, stirring the spaghetti sauce. “Spaghetti anyway.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Spencer grinned. She dipped a finger in the sauce and popped it in her mouth. “Mmmm. Good.”

“You like it?” Ashley replied, her breath hitching.

“Uh-huh,” Spencer grinned. Then she ducked in for a kiss.

Ashley seemed to forget about the spaghetti for a second as Spencer’s mouth slid over her own. Spencer groaned as she felt Ashley’s mouth part beneath hers and she deepened the kiss. She couldn’t get enough of this, ever. Three years on and, every time she kissed Ashley, it felt like the first time. Hot and insistent. More often than not, their kissing landed them somewhere near a bed or a couch or, once or twice, the kitchen bench. As she felt Ashley’s hands slide around her waist, she vaguely remembered that it was dinner time and probably not the most appropriate time to be starting this.

A loud rapping on the bench broke their kiss apart. Elly was rolling her eyes at her mothers. Ashley grinned, kissed Spencer on the nose and went back to the spaghetti sauce.

“Yeah, hon?” Spencer signed to her daughter, aware of the blush tinging her cheeks.

“Can you go over my homework?” Elly asked, cocking her head to one side. Every day she increasingly became a little Spencer clone, an almost perfect replica.

Spencer nodded, grabbing the notebook and planting a noisy wet kiss on her daughter’s head. The girl giggled and pulled her head away playfully. Then she gave her mother a quick hug and ran off to wrest the television control from her brother. Spencer stuck her head around the corner where Alex was planted on the carpet watching the Wiggles. He was cuddling Humphrey, who he seemed to have appropriated over the last few months, and had his thumb in his mouth. Elly tried to change the channel, but Alex stubbornly held onto the remote control. Spencer glared at her daughter who pouted but flopped on the couch, her seven-year-old grumps not lasting very long.

Happy that the kids were somewhat peacefully playing on the couch, Spencer glanced around her house. Ashley was humming at the stove, some tune Spencer knew but couldn’t name right now. The kids were entertained but happy and Spencer, well, Spencer couldn’t have been more content if she tried. The feeling of contentment lasted through dinner, through putting the kids to bed, until she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom in her pyjamas.

Ashley appeared wearing a sleeveless top and boxers, leaning past Spencer to snag her own toothbrush. One of her hands settled on Spencer’s hips as she pushed a kiss down onto the blonde’s shoulders, then she too brushed her teeth. Finishing her own pre-sleep regimen, Spencer put her toothbrush in the glass and perched herself up on the edge of the sink. Ashley stopped brushing and raised an eyebrow. Spencer reached out and pulled the brunette into the vee between her legs, a small smile playing across her face. No matter how she moved, Ashley couldn’t reach the sink.

“O go a oo I m oof” Ashley said, around her toothbrush and a mouth full of suds.

“Huh?” Spencer teased.

Ashley’s brow furrowed in mock annoyance and frustration. She moved closer, trying to get a way to spit out in the sink but Spencer playfully wrestled her back. Giggling, she held her girl away from the sink until Ashley finally stopped wriggling to try to get closer. Spencer watched as Ashley bit down on her brush, holding it in with her teeth and freeing both hands.

Then those hands were parting her thighs by gently squeezing down just above each knee and Ashley had stepped close. Spencer’s giggles finished on a gasp as she realised that Ashley was now very, very close to her. The whole mood changed, going from playful to erotically charged in a few swift seconds. One of Ashley’s hands came up to grasp her chin, as Spencer steadied herself in her precarious position, using both hands to hold on to the sink and the towel rail.

Ashley’s other hand inched up Spencer’s thigh, suddenly only fractions of an inch from the blonde’s centre. Spencer gasped and then bit down lightly on the finger that the brunette snaked into her mouth. Suckling on the finger, she moaned as the brunette began lazy pressured circles over the juncture between her thighs. It was over the flannel cotton of her pyjamas but it was hot and Spencer tried to rock her hips into the caress. She couldn’t move very far without falling, but she was pushing back, panting. Ashley pushed a little harder, making the movements all that more effectual.

Then, just as Spencer could feel the wetness start to really take hold, Ashley’s hands were on her hips and lifting her off the sink. All contact was lost and Spencer’s eyes slammed open. Ashley was leaning over the sink spitting out her toothpaste and rinsing out her mouth.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me!” Spencer said disbelievingly.

Ashley grinned, wiping her mouth on the towel. “You deserved that.”

“Well, maybe,” Spencer granted, “but still!” She looked down at her body and then up at Ashley with a frustrated gesture. “You’re a tease!”

“Only if I don’t follow through,” Ashley said, with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. Then she advanced, pushing Spencer’s body up against the bathroom wall. Her mouth hit Spencer’s neck at the same time as one hand slid up under the loose pyjama top and her knee parted the blonde’s.

It was an all-out assault on Spencer’s body and she loved it. Closing her eyes, she groaned, rolling her hips out into Ashley’s thigh and grasping at shoulders, curls, anything she could.

Ashley was biting all the way up and down the blonde’s neck, bringing forth whimpers and causing heat to rise fast. One lean hand was gently massaging a breast under her pyjama top, bringing the nipple to a hard peak and then roughing a palm across it. Spencer’s body was shaking, straining against her girlfriend’s. She moaned, panting. A whispered epithet slipped past her lips.

“Fuck.”

She was going to be taken in the bathroom. Ashley was all over her and Spencer was ready. God, here, now, hard and fast.

And then, just for sheer shock value, Ashley’s body was nowhere near hers. Spencer opened her mouth, speechless at the second loss of contact.

“Or, I could just be a tease,” the brunette said with an evil grin before exiting the bathroom.

Ashley made it as far as the bedroom door before Spencer’s body hit hers and propelled them both through. Spencer made sure the door was shut before she pushed her girlfriend down onto the bed, a surprised look in the chocolate brown eyes, and then straddled her. Spencer pulled Ashley’s hands up and pinioned her wrists to the bed above her head. She dipped her head down, capturing the brunette’s cherry lips in a kiss that was bruising and deep. It took seconds for the other girl to respond.

Spencer’s hands let go, pulling Ashley into a sitting position and still straddling her lap. She pulled Ashley’s wifebeater over her head and flung it aside, sliding her hands down to cup the brunette’s perfect breasts. Ashley’s mouth was on her neck again, both sides, nipping and tasting.

Sliding her hands around Ashley’s back, Spencer groaned, raking her nails across.

“Fuck, Ash, please don’t stop this time,” she panted.

“I won’t,” Ashley promised throatily. “God, I want you.”

Thank God.

Their clothes found the floor as Ashley’s hands found Spencer’s skin. The heat generated from their sliding bodies should have ignited them. Instead, it just propelled them forward: Spencer’s tongue finding the peak of one rosy breast, suckling to the sounds of Ashley’s whimpers; Ashley’s fingers, spreading Spencer’s legs apart again, this time to slither into wet folds, bringing moans of pleasure.

“Fuck me,” Spencer groaned. “God, Ashley, please, I need…you… inside… me.” Her incoherent panting was caused by her girlfriend’s fingers, insistent on her clitoris.

“Yes,” Ashley hissed, straining on one arm as she thrust. Spencer’s body arched off the bed, meeting the pulsing rhythm. The blonde let herself be carried away for a few moments, enjoying the feel of being so thoroughly full in such an incredible way, before she opened her eyes and then slid her own hand down to Ashley’s wet centre as it straddled one thigh.

Ashley’s eyes slammed open, her mouth gasping “Spence!” before it was lost in the groans. Spencer’s fingers slid home, their rhythms clashing for a second before melding into one beautiful dance.

Soon it became too much. Spencer was too ready and the ripples of pleasure spreading out from Ashley’s thumb on her clitoris were killing her concentration. She faltered inside Ashley and then came free as the brunette took charge, sliding down her girlfriend’s body with determination.

Spencer arched into the touch, Ashley’s thumb replaced by strong and purposeful tongue. She panted, mumbling incoherent words into the air. She anchored herself with one hand on the bedhead, pushing down onto the fingers filling her, increasing the pressure of the tongue on her. She was so close, straining down.

“A-sh!” she groaned. She could feel Ashley pushing, tensing, getting ready to ride it out with her. And then it hit, the blazing orgasm that threw her back on the bed gasping and chanting. Then the slow collapse. Measured moments of calming as the awareness slowly dawned that Ashley was still inside her and staring down. Spencer gasped as Ashley’s tongue snaked out to taste her again, causing a small aftershock.

Spencer wound her hand through Ashley’s curls and tugged her northward. She sealed off her girlfriend’s mouth in a throbbing kiss. Ashley’s fingers slowly moved out of her, coming up to support herself over the blonde. Spencer pulled back and smiled lazily.

“Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Ashley grinned. “Yeah.”

“Oh!” Spencer said in mock laughter. “Ego, much?”

“Shh.” Ashley ducked down to kiss her again.

Spencer felt the brunette move tantalisingly against her thigh, the wetness of her need evident. She expertly flipped her over, without breaking the delicious contact, kissing her way down Ashley’s neck.

“Mmm,” she smiled against the tanned skin under her, taking her time to taste and kiss a path down, all the way down.

Ashley was wet, but Spencer took her time. She built the tension, the pleasure mounting. Ashley’s hips bucked as she started to come apart in Spencer’s hands. Spencer’s eyes drifted up to watch Ashley grab a pillow, holding it over her face as she muffled her scream of pleasure. Spencer slid up to hold her beautiful girlfriend, feeling her warm skin flush against her own.

“I love you,” she murmured into soft brown curls as they lay damp against her mouth.

“I love you too,” she heard Ashley’s whispered sleepy response. “God, how I love you.”

“Mmm,” Spencer smiled, settling into an embrace as the contentment surged again, so very good as she fell asleep.

She couldn’t help smiling her way through breakfast the next morning, cheerful as she got Elly ready for school. Ashley wandered out just before Spencer was about to leave, and earned herself a pretty flash good-morning kiss for her troubles.

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” the brunette chuckled sleepily, not quite human before her first cup of coffee.

“And who’s fault is that?” Spencer grinned cheekily. “Hmm?” She kissed Ashley on the top of her head. “We’re off, see you tonight.”

Hugging Alex goodbye, she made sure that Elly had all her belongings before bundling them out the door. She smiled all the way to Elly’s school and as she dropped her off. She smiled on her way to work, singing along to the radio. She smiled as she sat at the traffic light, waiting for the green, not caring about the traffic for once. The overwhelming sense of contentment didn’t leave and she was still smiling when the traffic took off.

There was only a second, a mere second, for her to stop smiling as the bus hit, careening through the red light as though it never existed.

* * *

Ashley caught a squealing Alex by his waist and hauled him up. Giggling with him, she planted kisses along his neck and cheek until he wound his arms around her neck and hugged her close. Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck and hugged back.

“You ready, tyke?” she asked.

He nodded vigorously and she put him down. He ran off to grab his Thomas the Tank Engine backpack and, of course, Humphrey. Ashley watched him go with a grin. She’d drop him off at day care and then pick him up when she picked Elly up from school. Never in a million years did she think that having kids would make her feel this happy. Elly had always been simply accepting of Ashley in their lives and Alex had never known life without her. They were, in every way that counted, a family. Thinking back longingly, albeit briefly, to the night before, she grinned. A perfect family.

It hadn’t always been perfect. There had been arguments and problems, and they were human. But, through it all, Spencer had proven, once and for all to Ashley, that she wasn’t going anywhere. Their love was solid and they were happy. Ashley was happy, deliriously happy.

She made sure that she and Alex had all of their necessary belongings and then hurried them out the door. One of the bonuses of leaving later than the others was that they missed the morning traffic. She was a little late dropping Alex off at his day care because there was some kind of accident at a downtown intersection. Grumbling a little, she manoeuvred into a parking spot and then took him inside. She gave him a hug goodbye and wrinkled her nose happily to the kiss on the cheek she got back. He scampered off to drop his bag off and play with his friends.

He was such a friendly, good-natured little boy. Quiet, probably because his sister didn’t say anything. He was as fluent in sign as he was in English and his daycare attendants had reported that he signed everything he said out of habit. The girls didn’t mind. They positively encouraged it. He’d probably grow out of it soon enough but, for the moment, Spencer and Ashley were just happy with the normality of it.

He was definitely well adjusted to having three parents. Admittedly, Gray didn’t do much actual parenting, but he was a constant in the kids’ life. He seemed to have happily taken a back seat on decision-making, although Ashley was careful to make Spencer include him on the big decisions. He took the kids every second weekend, when he wasn’t away on projects, and was a common visitor to the house. Both kids treated the whole situation like it was completely normal. Ashley supposed she should just be happy about that, but a little seed of worry always sat deep inside her. One day there would be the explosion when one of the kids, probably Elly, realised that they had a rather odd situation.

Musing a little on the topic, Ashley climbed back into the car and made it to work just on time. She was teaching part-time at a small elementary school nearby and loving every second of it. She really was, amazingly, a natural with the kids and enjoyed the permanency of the same kids every week. It had great hours, 10-3, which allowed her time to look after the kids when Spencer had to work, and it was fun.

As she stepped out of the car, her cellphone rang. Balancing her bag on top of the car, she managed to get it to her ear without seeing who was calling.

“‘Ello,” she said, keys dangling from her teeth. She removed them and got the car locked before the crackling on the other end of the line became clear. Frowning, she put her bag down and listened more carefully. “Arthur?”

“Ashley, where are you?” His voice was hard down the line. Ashley’s heart sped up. What was this? Arthur never called her. Oh fuck…

“School, work. What’s wrong?”

“There’s been an accident.”

Ashley dropped her bag. “What?” she said, softly, her vision blurring and her head starting to feel numb. She gripped the cell tighter.

“Spencer. There was some kind of accident, a car accident. Something to do with a bus. She’s been taken to the General. Paula is meeting me there.”

“Is she okay?” It was all she could get out. Nothing would work. Her throat was dry, her limbs solid. All the sound had gone from the universe. She could suddenly barely hold the phone, she was shaking so hard. All through this, she had a strange urge to laugh, an almost uncontrollable urge to burst out laughing and then collapse crying. “Arthur, is she…”

“I don’t know, Ashley. I don’t know anything yet. Where are the kids?”

“School, day care. Oh God, Arthur… Elly….”

“She was alone in the car, Ash. She must have dropped Elly off. Leave them, meet me there.”

“I’ll be there,” she whispered. Snapping her phone shut, she was amazed by the brightness of the sun as it shone down on her face. How dare it shine so on a day like this? How dare the birds sing when her beloved Spencer could be in danger, could be fighting for her life, could be… No, she wouldn’t think that. She couldn’t think that. A second of thinking that would render her incapable of breathing. She had to think of something else. She had to move.

Liquid and heavy, she half-ran to the office. Luckily the receptionist must have recognised the urgency because, when Ashley asked for the Principal, the woman half fell out of her chair. The situation took less than twenty seconds to explain. They were warm, gentle, and very insistent that she be on her way immediately. She wasn’t in much of a mood to argue. They offered to call her a cab. She chose to drive.

It took all her effort to drive like a normal human being. All her effort not to scream there, pretending to be a fire truck on its way to disaster. All her effort not to lose concentration and do something stupid herself.

It was only when she got to the hospital that her breath came out in nearly all one go and she realised that she’d been holding it in – not since the school, because she would have blacked out a long time ago, but just over and over. One breath in, hold, hold, let it go when the ache set in. Another breath in, hold, repeat.

She didn’t care where she parked. It was probably a loading zone. She didn’t care if she got a ticket or if she got towed. She had no idea where to go and skidded into reception with a wild look in her eyes. Leaning over the counter, trying to catch her breath, Ashley almost missed Arthur walking towards her from some corridor. He looked like he was sleepwalking. Ashley thought she might know how he felt. She approached him, deathly afraid.

What was he going to tell her? Was it… oh God, it couldn’t be…

He didn’t say anything, just wrapped her in a huge hug and said, “She’s in trauma.”

For moments, she stood holding him. Since her own father had driven himself into a brick wall two years previously, Arthur Carlin had been like a father to her. He had welcomed her into his family with open arms and a huge heart, and now they stood together on the precipice.

He led her to some uncomfortable-looking seats and they sat down.

“That’s all I know,” he said, pale as the moon through cloud.

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. Paula’s trying to find out. They brought her into Trauma and someone recognised the name. They called her and she called me. They won’t let her in and all she could tell me was that Spencer was in trauma. She’ll come out as soon as she knows something.”

“Oh God.” She let the sob go. Arthur’s arm came around to hold her shoulder and she leaned into him.

In trauma. That wasn’t completely bad. That gave hope, gave possibility. If she’d been dead, they would have come out, looking solemn, and just told them. There was prospect then, in ‘Trauma’. Trauma could mean a doctor walking through the plastic doors and announcing, “Mr. Carlin, she’s fine. Just a broken leg and bit of a grump. She’d love to see you.”

A man in surgical scrubs walked through the set of doors and Ashley jumped a little, but he kept walking past. She swallowed.

Trauma could mean a doctor, walking through the plastic doors and announcing, “She’s fine. A bit beaten up, and we’ll have to keep her for a couple of days for observation, but she’s been very lucky.”

The doors swung again and both Ashley’s and Arthur’s heads shot up. But, once again, it was not for them.

“They should glue them shut,” Ashley grumbled, to which Arthur gave a wan smile.

“Don’t hate them yet. Our news will come through those doors.”

Ashley stood up, paced two steps and then sat down again.

“Did you call Glen or Clay?” she asked, desperate for some kind of distraction.

“I thought I should wait until we had some idea of what was going on,” Arthur said. “They’ll just panic otherwise.”

Ashley nodded. She wasn’t sure she could think that hard. She’d have to call Gray, but she should wait, too. There was no need to panic him yet. She could call him when everything was okay, when it was all fine.

Then their heads came up again, to the familiar thwack of the doors swinging open. It was Paula. There were tearstains on her cheeks and she looked like she’d aged ten years in an hour. Ashley stood, almost afraid to open her mouth, heart pumping like a bass.

“I don’t know anything,” she said.

Then, to Ashley’s surprise, the woman pulled her into a strong embrace. Ashley returned it. She sat down again, next to Arthur, and Paula sat on his other side, grasping his hand firmly.

“She’s still in trauma, they’re working on her. Dan said he thinks she’ll be in theatre soon and they’ll let me know when she’s taken in.”

“Theatre?” Ashley choked. That wasn’t good, was it? That was an operation. That was serious. That meant they could lose her. She felt the room start to spin and then Arthur’s hand on her own.

“Don’t panic before we know anything,” he said softly, gently. It must have taken a mammoth effort on his part to remain so even, but it worked because Ashley calmed, just a little.

They sat staring at the blank, beige wall in front of them. Just when Ashley thought the wall was starting to inch closer, closing in on them, the doors disrupted her again, swinging open. It was another man in scrubs, only this time he stuck his head and torso through and Paula stood to greet him.

“They’re taking her to OR3, Dr Carlin. We’ll keep you updated.”

Paula just nodded. Ashley wondered how they could both be so calm. This was a nightmare. She wanted to scream, rant and rave. She wanted to rip the uncomfortable hospital chairs from their metal screws and hurl them at the inoffensive wall in front of her. She wanted to run inside and demand that they save her Spencer, that they do something, that they perform a miracle.

Yet there were Spencer’s parents, sitting there, as calm as chickens on Prozac. Then it occurred to her that they were probably feeling much as she was on the inside but just suppressing it. Then she realised that she was doing a pretty good job of holding it in, too, and how much worse it must be for Paula, who probably knew exactly what might be going on.

Ashley got along with Mrs Carlin surprisingly well. In fact, everyone was shocked at how well Paula had accepted Spencer’s major life shift and choices. Despite her church upbringing, she’d pretty much gotten over it all straight away and was now at them to give her more grandchildren. Ashley didn’t know who’d been more shocked at that, Spencer or herself. Not that Ashley and Paula were that close, but they got along well enough.

There and then, Ashley felt more like family than ever before: the three of them, just waiting to hear Spencer’s fate, their fate.

It was interminable. Seconds became minutes, minutes stretched to hours and the hours became lengths of time so unimaginable that Ashley felt like she was being slowly desiccated, stretched and broken. Any time someone spoke to Paula, it seemed like the same deal: no news yet.

Arthur kept saying that no news was good news, but Ashley felt like she wasn’t willing to settle for that. They had to give her good news, mostly because anything else was unthinkable, unacceptable.

When finally she thought it was too much, that she was going to break out of her skin, the doors opened again. Ashley watched as Paula was motioned over and disappeared through them. She half-rose to follow but Arthur’s hand on her arm was restrictive.

“Let her go. She’ll explain it better to us,” he said, his face grim.

They watched her through the thick plastic of the doors, the distorted pair of doctors discussing Spencer while they waited anxiously. Paula was nodding, her face invisible through the plastic, but at least she hadn’t collapsed wailing. That had to be a good sign. She also wasn’t hugging the man with grateful joy and grinning. That had to be a bad sign.

Paula came back out, shaking her head and looking pale. Neither her husband nor Ashley said anything until she sat down, took a steadying breath and began to talk.

“She’s stable, for now.”

Arthur let out a jet of air.

“Stable?” Ashley asked with a choke in her voice.

“That’s a good thing,” Paula reassured. “It means she’s not in any danger. She had a lot of bleeding and they had to take her to theatre to stop some of it. She’s got a punctured lung, a broken right knee and ankle, and -” She broke off, starting to cry. Arthur pulled her into his arms and held her, rocking. Ashley felt the contents of her stomach begin to churn.

“She…” Paula was still sobbing. Ashley swallowed convulsively. “She has pretty bad head trauma.”

“Head trauma?” Ashley whispered.

“She’s unconscious, probably in a coma. She fractured her skull so at least there’s no pressure there but they won’t know how much damage she has until the blood clears.” The tears were flowing freely now, down both Paula’s and Ashley’s faces.

“But she’ll be okay, right?” Ashley asked urgently, “She’ll be okay when the bleeding stops?”

“The bleeding has stopped,” Paula said, putting a soft hand on Ashley’s arm. “They can’t know how much damage has been done until what’s there has been cleared. And until she wakes up. If -”

“No,” Ashley interrupted firmly. “No ifs.”

“Ashley,” Paula said urgently, “she might not wake up.”

* * *

It was dark, horribly, horribly dark. Then Spencer’s eyes slammed open, and she fell over.

* * *

“Can I see her?” Ashley asked, shaking in her voice, her body, everything and everywhere.

“When they have her settled in ICU,” Paula replied.

Ashley could hear that she was holding everything in tight, close to breaking point. She understood that all too well.

“I should call Gray.” It was all she could think of to say. He’d want to know. He’d have to know. Ashley stood up. “No, I want to see her first.” And her voice broke because even she had her limits.

It was Paula’s hand that came out to comfort her and to pull her back down. “Sit for a second Ashley.”

Burying her head in her hands, she tried to steady herself, not because she couldn’t let herself go to pieces there, simply because she couldn’t do it to Paula and Arthur. She felt a hand on her back. It didn’t move or stroke. It just sat there like a companion. That’s all they were now, the three of them, companions on this ride through hell. One by one, they would be spit out at the end and what would they have to show for the journey?

Ashley felt like she was going to burn.

“Excuse me, I’ll be back.”

She couldn’t sit any longer. She had to move. She found a bathroom and stared in the mirror, leaning over the sink and examining each line, each small facet of her face. She looked the same. How could she look the same? Everything was wrong. The world was so wrong and she looked the same, if a little drawn.

She tried a fake smile. It looked real. That’s what this world was: a world where fake was real and real was fake. The only thing that was important, the only real thing that mattered to Ashley, was lying in a bed, unconscious, in another part of the building. Everything else was fake. This face, this reflection in the mirror, was fake. She would never be the same again.

She washed her face and scrubbed it dry with some paper towels, which she shakily threw away, and took a deep breath. Then she straightened her shirt and walked, as steadily as she could manage, back to the Carlins. They were standing, waiting.

“We can go see her,” Arthur said. It meant the world to Ashley that they had waited.

It was like one of those scenes you see in sci-fi movies, only with the wrong music. The three of them were walking down the corridor, only missing the helmets and space suits, in a slow-motion montage, or so it felt like. Ashley almost laughed, but she felt that, if she laughed, she’d die.

The doors to the ICU were locked and, while other people had to whisper into a small intercom that turned every conversation into a crackling cacophony, Paula’s card let them straight in. The ICU was busy, everyone looking important and over-worked. The three of them walked through it all untouched, like the eye of the storm, a haven of enforced calm in the maelstrom.

Until they got to Spencer.

She had her own room, a little glassed-in box off to the side. Half of the patients were in curtained cubicles, but the other half had their own little medical coffins. Ashley hated the stark white already, because she knew Spencer would have. A lifetime of her mother’s career and Elly’s health issues had given Spencer a healthy dislike of hospitals, Ashley knew.

She couldn’t look. The floors, the walls, the insistent beeping monitor: they were all there in front of her eyes but she couldn’t look at Spencer. There was a void where the bed was, a gap in her vision. She was afraid that, if she tried to look, her eyes would water and then dissolve. In the end, it was Arthur’s response that got her there: a gasp and then his hand to his mouth.

Arthur, the strong one, the one who never faltered in a crisis. Ashley’s head shot up from its position gazing firmly at the wheels of the bed.

She was attached to everything. They’d put Spencer in a hospital gown. Later, she would find out that her bloodied clothes had had to be cut off. Cords ran out of her arm, into her arm, from her chest, from her legs. An oxygen tube ran to her nose.

But in this mess, the serpentine slither of cords, was Ashley’s girl.

Pale, bruised, but alive.

The monitor said so.

Her head was bandaged firmly but there was bruising down one eye and the side of her face. She’d have a great shiner in the morning. One leg was encased in a brace that looked like a cage. One of the tubes was red – deep, purple red – with life-restoring blood dripping in slowly.

But she was alive.

“Spencer,” Ashley whispered.

Paula had moved towards the bed, kneeling beside it, placing one hand gently on her daughter’s arm. Ashley moved to the other side, gently perching on the bedside and picking up a delicate hand. Careful not to disturb any of the lines going in or out, she stroked the back of Spencer’s hand and felt the tears running down her face.

She smiled, a genuine goofy grin, and said to the sleeping girl, “Look what you’ve gone and done this time, you silly fool.”

* * * * *

Next up: Part 2 [A]