The Falling :: 14/14 - part one of four
-South Of Nowhere
-Spencer/Ashley
-AU (Alternative Universe) story. Angst and smatterings of humor. Christmas/holiday-time themes are present. Spencer POV 99% of the time.
-And right before Spencer Carlin’s world ended, she just wasn’t sure if her answers were as good as she wanted them to be.
-PG 15-ish to possibly light R
-Ashley POV
Mini-vans and cookie-cutter houses, all two stories tall, yards with swing sets and garbage cans by the edge of each driveway - just waiting to be emptied…
So this is what the suburbs look like.
Born and raised in L.A., where there is more pavement than grass and lights don’t go out at eleven o’clock at night, Ashley Davies is telling no lie when she says that a little place like this one is a bit of a revelation.
It is exactly what it appears to be - families and Sunday dinners and soccer moms.
And this is where she grew up, where she learned that smile and that laugh…
She stands across from one brick and off-white home, studying the flat stone walkway and the red front door and the row of small shrubs under a bay window - shiny leaves in the new spring sun.
Her cell phone rests heavily in her hand as she leans against this rented automobile, the number she has saved just waiting to be dialed… and yet, she hesitates.
Because I must be absolutely crazy, right?
I have just flown from L.A. to Ohio, with mostly online information as my only back up, all to track down a former employee… who left willingly… who wrote me a letter filled up with… with…
She doesn’t need to pull the folded piece of paper out, because she has the words practically memorized now. They run across her brain like the wall-street ticker, an endless stream of sentences that make sense… and no sense… all at the same time.
///
Ashley,
I don’t even know how to start this thing now that I am trying…
///
She takes a deep breath.
She raises the phone to her ear.
She listens to it ring - once, twice, three times - but then a male voice picks up.
And Ashley releases that breath, letting it shudder out of her lungs.
“Hello?”
“Um, yes, hello… Is this… Mr. Carlin? Arthur Carlin?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hello Mr. Carlin, uh… uh… god, this is going to sound insane…”
But the man sort of chuckles and Ashley isn’t sure how to take that reaction (can’t be totally bad, right?) and she tries to pull herself together, to gather her rapidly scattering thoughts and purpose.
“Well, start with your name and then I’ll be the judge of that.”
That’s where you got from, isn’t it Spencer? From him, your father… you got that dry sense of humor, that ability to not get ruffled…
And it calms Ashley’s nerves just a bit to realize that little tid-bit and she clears her throat.
“My name is Ashley Davies and… well, I am kind of a friend of Spencer’s…”
That’s not a complete lie either. We are friends. Kind of. I mean, I think we are a lot more than that… but that’s not just something you blurt out to a parent…
“…Oh. Well, then… it is wonderful to speak with you.”
His voice is soft and warm and Ashley feels an incredible amount of love in that comment - love for a blonde haired and blue eyed daughter - and it causes Ashley to flush with heat, too.
Because she gets it, she really does… even though it was quick and unexpected… Ashley gets it.
Because Spencer makes her feel the same way, suffused with deep affection and wondrous love.
I’d have to be totally smitten to do any of this…
“Now, uh, the crazy part is that I am here… as in Ohio, I mean, as in Highland Heights… and I was wondering if we could, um, if we could meet and you might be able to tell me how to find her.”
There. Got the whole thing out without too much stumbling. Now let’s see if he stays as friendly.
“…Find her?” Arthur Carlin questions.
“I know. You think I am a lunatic, don’t you? I promise you I’m not.”
“Ms… Davies, was it?”
“Yes.”
“You say you are in Highland Heights right now?”
“…Uh, yea.”
“I… I think we need to talk and I’d rather do this in person. Is there any chance you could take down an address if I give one to you?”
“Oh. Well, that’s the thing… I’m, uh, actually outside your house…”
She has enough intelligence to sound sheepish, which is not far from the truth.
And she watches as the front door opens and a man looks straight at her, head cocked to the side.
But he slowly motions her over and Ashley shuts her phone with an audible click.
///
…you ever want to say a lot and then when you have the chance… nothing comes out?
Or it doesn’t come out the way you want it to?
I have so much I want to say to you. But I am going to start with… I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Ashley.
I am so sorry that I betrayed the trust you gave to me. I can tell you, honestly, that I did so because I care… I more than care. I think I kind of care about you more than anyone.
Okay. I don’t think it. I know it.
///
Arthur Carlin, unlike his daughter and Spencer’s mother, has dark hair - black with definite silver streaked through it - and while the eyes are different from Spencer’s as well… there is delicateness to their gaze that makes a tiny smile break out over Ashley’s lips.
I was right. That’s where you get it from, Spencer. All that kindness is there in his eyes, too.
He is watching her face, running over the features - not in a rude way, but more like an appraisal of sorts - and Ashley allows it.
She is the stranger here. She is the weird woman, calling up out of the blue, trying to find the man’s child. He has a right to size her up.
“Let’s go inside, Ms. Davies.”
They step in, one after the other, and she looks around briefly - taking in the stairwell and the knick knacks of well-lived in home, the flowers by the door (dried and faded pink) and the sound of a grandfather clock, its ticking the only disruption of a steady silence.
And then, she sees it, on the wall like a gallery - she catches a cavalcade of Spencer Carlin in picture form.
“…Is that her?” Ashley asks quietly and Arthur Carlin follows her stare, smiling as he does so.
“Oh, yes. We seem to put up a new one each year that goes by.”
“May I take a closer look?”
Arthur looks at her thoughtfully once more, something decidedly wistful in those kind eyes, and Ashley isn’t sure how it makes her feel.
But she puts it down to the oddness of this whole situation. She puts it down to the fact that, up until about three months or so ago, she wasn’t used to feeling much of anything.
Besides anger. Besides sadness. Besides hate.
But he gives his consent with a subtle nod of his head.
Her steps are soft as she gets closer, attempting to take in this apparent memory lane as best she can.
Spencer Carlin, pig-tails and big grin, clinging to an annoyed looking boy in a baseball uniform.
Spencer Carlin, posed in front of a gray back-screen, vaguely placid expression marred by the hint of something devilish in the corners of that safe smile.
Spencer Carlin, laughing beside that annoyed boy - who is older in this particular photograph and not so annoyed - and young black man is there, too. They are all laughing actually.
Spencer Carlin with a medal and cheesy thumbs-up. Spencer Carlin with a trophy and a smirk.
Spencer Carlin, just a tiny thing and holding up a Christmas gift, baby blonde hair a mess.
And Ashley feels a smile creeping up on her face, getting wider and wider with each glimpse into Spencer’s past, and it only increases her desire to see the woman again.
To talk to her. To apologize for blowing up. To ask her… to beg her… to come back to L.A…. back to me…
///
God knows, I wasn’t looking for someone like you to fall into my world.
I had this plan. Or… I had this thing I just had to do and while you were a part of it… well, falling impossibly in love with you wasn’t part of the plan.
I know I am not making any sense. And I am sorry for that, too. More than you can ever know.
But I had to let you know that… I love you. I am in love with you.
And it freaks me out to even write it down, because it is so true. So true and so strong and… and I have to leave it all behind. I have to leave you.
You, the one person I don’t want to ever be apart from…
///
“Ms. Davies… um, let’s sit down for a moment… would you like something to drink? We’ve got water or tea…?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Thank you anyway… these are all great, you know? She was a really cute kid.”
Arthur Carlin smiles softly and nods his head in agreement and she can still see something there - beyond the kindness - and it looks a little frozen, just a little removed and if she were the type of person who could just console another, then that’s what she would do.
Because Arthur Carlin looks like a man in need of comfort.
But for what, she just doesn’t know. And she doesn’t feel confident enough to ask the reasons why.
Ashley is changing every day that goes by, but she isn’t that type of person. Not just yet.
They sit, side by side, on a couch and she can feel his eyes on her and she ducks her head - like a little kid might - and suddenly she can’t look at him, as if all her intentions are too obvious and then… maybe…
He won’t like what he sees. And then he’ll ask me to leave. And I’ll not find her.
But his hand comes down upon her own and alternates between patting it - like all fathers tend to do - and holding it lightly, as if she were the one who needs comforting.
And she finally looks up and something is there in Arthur Carlin’s gaze, beyond the kindness and the unexplainable traces of sorrow that she fleetingly catches… and Ashley’s heartbeat increases.
And she isn’t sure why.
///
That night, up on the roof, right before you passed out… I should have known right then, you know? I should have known that I would never be able to just walk away after saving you.
I should have known that those eyes of yours would suck me in and that if I ever got to kiss you… well, that that would be all I’d ever want to do.
I wish… I wish I could just tell you everything about me. Where I’ve lived and what I used to do for fun and why I really came to L.A.
I wish I could hold you like I did on Christmas morning, but for a really long time. Like forever.
I wish I could have met you in another life, Ashley.
And in that other life, I would kiss you all the time. And run around locked up parks with you. And force you to watch old movies. And, god, I would marry you… I don’t care if it isn’t legal, I’d marry you and build you a house and make you waffles and… everything. I’d give you everything.
Because you deserve it, you know? You deserve it all.
Always believe that, okay? Always remember that you are worth so much. That’s why I had to stop you from killing yourself that night. That’s why I had to tell your father.
That’s why I had to work for you and file all those stupid papers and put up with your snark…
Because you are worth it, Ashley. You are worth the whole of the world and it’s about time you realize it. Like I have. Like I do.
///
“Even after all this time, I never know how to say this to anyone…” Arthur Carlin starts, his voice a rough rumble and that clock is muted now and the rest of the house is still so quiet.
And Ashley is holding her breath again.
And her heart is pounding so loudly, like drums in her ears.
And she feels nervous, but she cannot understand why… just that she is, terribly so.
“…but the comment you made, about ‘finding’ Spencer, well… I’m not sure when you last saw her, it must have been a while, but… five years ago, there was an accident…”
The word makes a distinct noise, perhaps like nails down a blackboard or a glass hitting hardwood floors, and the word seems to cut its way out of Arthur Carlin’s mouth - painful and horrible slashes that only certain words can make.
And Ashley is rooted to her spot on this couch, the pounding of her heart almost to the point of drowning her, temples throbbing and she fights the urge to squint her eyes in protest to the sensation.
“…and it was pretty much instant, uh, the damage to her brain and… we lost her… we lost her…”
Arthur Carlin is holding her hand fully now and looking at her with a weary stare.
And Ashley blinks, with her heart thundering and blood rushing around her head.
And this time, when she blacks out, there is no beautiful blonde guardian to pull her back up again.
///
I’m rambling and I know it. I’m sorry. You are probably still so in the dark and I am sorry about that, sorry that that is how I have to be. But… I…
I love you, Ashley Davies.
And I will for as long as… for all of time, Ashley, until the universe explodes and we are nothing but dust… that’s how long I intend to love you.
Always remember that, even when your day sucks or life seems hard…
Please know that you are loved.
And know that leaving you is the last thing I want to do.
Love,
Spencer
///
TBC
-Spencer/Ashley
-AU (Alternative Universe) story. Angst and smatterings of humor. Christmas/holiday-time themes are present. Spencer POV 99% of the time.
-And right before Spencer Carlin’s world ended, she just wasn’t sure if her answers were as good as she wanted them to be.
-PG 15-ish to possibly light R
-Ashley POV
Mini-vans and cookie-cutter houses, all two stories tall, yards with swing sets and garbage cans by the edge of each driveway - just waiting to be emptied…
So this is what the suburbs look like.
Born and raised in L.A., where there is more pavement than grass and lights don’t go out at eleven o’clock at night, Ashley Davies is telling no lie when she says that a little place like this one is a bit of a revelation.
It is exactly what it appears to be - families and Sunday dinners and soccer moms.
And this is where she grew up, where she learned that smile and that laugh…
She stands across from one brick and off-white home, studying the flat stone walkway and the red front door and the row of small shrubs under a bay window - shiny leaves in the new spring sun.
Her cell phone rests heavily in her hand as she leans against this rented automobile, the number she has saved just waiting to be dialed… and yet, she hesitates.
Because I must be absolutely crazy, right?
I have just flown from L.A. to Ohio, with mostly online information as my only back up, all to track down a former employee… who left willingly… who wrote me a letter filled up with… with…
She doesn’t need to pull the folded piece of paper out, because she has the words practically memorized now. They run across her brain like the wall-street ticker, an endless stream of sentences that make sense… and no sense… all at the same time.
///
Ashley,
I don’t even know how to start this thing now that I am trying…
///
She takes a deep breath.
She raises the phone to her ear.
She listens to it ring - once, twice, three times - but then a male voice picks up.
And Ashley releases that breath, letting it shudder out of her lungs.
“Hello?”
“Um, yes, hello… Is this… Mr. Carlin? Arthur Carlin?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hello Mr. Carlin, uh… uh… god, this is going to sound insane…”
But the man sort of chuckles and Ashley isn’t sure how to take that reaction (can’t be totally bad, right?) and she tries to pull herself together, to gather her rapidly scattering thoughts and purpose.
“Well, start with your name and then I’ll be the judge of that.”
That’s where you got from, isn’t it Spencer? From him, your father… you got that dry sense of humor, that ability to not get ruffled…
And it calms Ashley’s nerves just a bit to realize that little tid-bit and she clears her throat.
“My name is Ashley Davies and… well, I am kind of a friend of Spencer’s…”
That’s not a complete lie either. We are friends. Kind of. I mean, I think we are a lot more than that… but that’s not just something you blurt out to a parent…
“…Oh. Well, then… it is wonderful to speak with you.”
His voice is soft and warm and Ashley feels an incredible amount of love in that comment - love for a blonde haired and blue eyed daughter - and it causes Ashley to flush with heat, too.
Because she gets it, she really does… even though it was quick and unexpected… Ashley gets it.
Because Spencer makes her feel the same way, suffused with deep affection and wondrous love.
I’d have to be totally smitten to do any of this…
“Now, uh, the crazy part is that I am here… as in Ohio, I mean, as in Highland Heights… and I was wondering if we could, um, if we could meet and you might be able to tell me how to find her.”
There. Got the whole thing out without too much stumbling. Now let’s see if he stays as friendly.
“…Find her?” Arthur Carlin questions.
“I know. You think I am a lunatic, don’t you? I promise you I’m not.”
“Ms… Davies, was it?”
“Yes.”
“You say you are in Highland Heights right now?”
“…Uh, yea.”
“I… I think we need to talk and I’d rather do this in person. Is there any chance you could take down an address if I give one to you?”
“Oh. Well, that’s the thing… I’m, uh, actually outside your house…”
She has enough intelligence to sound sheepish, which is not far from the truth.
And she watches as the front door opens and a man looks straight at her, head cocked to the side.
But he slowly motions her over and Ashley shuts her phone with an audible click.
///
…you ever want to say a lot and then when you have the chance… nothing comes out?
Or it doesn’t come out the way you want it to?
I have so much I want to say to you. But I am going to start with… I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Ashley.
I am so sorry that I betrayed the trust you gave to me. I can tell you, honestly, that I did so because I care… I more than care. I think I kind of care about you more than anyone.
Okay. I don’t think it. I know it.
///
Arthur Carlin, unlike his daughter and Spencer’s mother, has dark hair - black with definite silver streaked through it - and while the eyes are different from Spencer’s as well… there is delicateness to their gaze that makes a tiny smile break out over Ashley’s lips.
I was right. That’s where you get it from, Spencer. All that kindness is there in his eyes, too.
He is watching her face, running over the features - not in a rude way, but more like an appraisal of sorts - and Ashley allows it.
She is the stranger here. She is the weird woman, calling up out of the blue, trying to find the man’s child. He has a right to size her up.
“Let’s go inside, Ms. Davies.”
They step in, one after the other, and she looks around briefly - taking in the stairwell and the knick knacks of well-lived in home, the flowers by the door (dried and faded pink) and the sound of a grandfather clock, its ticking the only disruption of a steady silence.
And then, she sees it, on the wall like a gallery - she catches a cavalcade of Spencer Carlin in picture form.
“…Is that her?” Ashley asks quietly and Arthur Carlin follows her stare, smiling as he does so.
“Oh, yes. We seem to put up a new one each year that goes by.”
“May I take a closer look?”
Arthur looks at her thoughtfully once more, something decidedly wistful in those kind eyes, and Ashley isn’t sure how it makes her feel.
But she puts it down to the oddness of this whole situation. She puts it down to the fact that, up until about three months or so ago, she wasn’t used to feeling much of anything.
Besides anger. Besides sadness. Besides hate.
But he gives his consent with a subtle nod of his head.
Her steps are soft as she gets closer, attempting to take in this apparent memory lane as best she can.
Spencer Carlin, pig-tails and big grin, clinging to an annoyed looking boy in a baseball uniform.
Spencer Carlin, posed in front of a gray back-screen, vaguely placid expression marred by the hint of something devilish in the corners of that safe smile.
Spencer Carlin, laughing beside that annoyed boy - who is older in this particular photograph and not so annoyed - and young black man is there, too. They are all laughing actually.
Spencer Carlin with a medal and cheesy thumbs-up. Spencer Carlin with a trophy and a smirk.
Spencer Carlin, just a tiny thing and holding up a Christmas gift, baby blonde hair a mess.
And Ashley feels a smile creeping up on her face, getting wider and wider with each glimpse into Spencer’s past, and it only increases her desire to see the woman again.
To talk to her. To apologize for blowing up. To ask her… to beg her… to come back to L.A…. back to me…
///
God knows, I wasn’t looking for someone like you to fall into my world.
I had this plan. Or… I had this thing I just had to do and while you were a part of it… well, falling impossibly in love with you wasn’t part of the plan.
I know I am not making any sense. And I am sorry for that, too. More than you can ever know.
But I had to let you know that… I love you. I am in love with you.
And it freaks me out to even write it down, because it is so true. So true and so strong and… and I have to leave it all behind. I have to leave you.
You, the one person I don’t want to ever be apart from…
///
“Ms. Davies… um, let’s sit down for a moment… would you like something to drink? We’ve got water or tea…?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Thank you anyway… these are all great, you know? She was a really cute kid.”
Arthur Carlin smiles softly and nods his head in agreement and she can still see something there - beyond the kindness - and it looks a little frozen, just a little removed and if she were the type of person who could just console another, then that’s what she would do.
Because Arthur Carlin looks like a man in need of comfort.
But for what, she just doesn’t know. And she doesn’t feel confident enough to ask the reasons why.
Ashley is changing every day that goes by, but she isn’t that type of person. Not just yet.
They sit, side by side, on a couch and she can feel his eyes on her and she ducks her head - like a little kid might - and suddenly she can’t look at him, as if all her intentions are too obvious and then… maybe…
He won’t like what he sees. And then he’ll ask me to leave. And I’ll not find her.
But his hand comes down upon her own and alternates between patting it - like all fathers tend to do - and holding it lightly, as if she were the one who needs comforting.
And she finally looks up and something is there in Arthur Carlin’s gaze, beyond the kindness and the unexplainable traces of sorrow that she fleetingly catches… and Ashley’s heartbeat increases.
And she isn’t sure why.
///
That night, up on the roof, right before you passed out… I should have known right then, you know? I should have known that I would never be able to just walk away after saving you.
I should have known that those eyes of yours would suck me in and that if I ever got to kiss you… well, that that would be all I’d ever want to do.
I wish… I wish I could just tell you everything about me. Where I’ve lived and what I used to do for fun and why I really came to L.A.
I wish I could hold you like I did on Christmas morning, but for a really long time. Like forever.
I wish I could have met you in another life, Ashley.
And in that other life, I would kiss you all the time. And run around locked up parks with you. And force you to watch old movies. And, god, I would marry you… I don’t care if it isn’t legal, I’d marry you and build you a house and make you waffles and… everything. I’d give you everything.
Because you deserve it, you know? You deserve it all.
Always believe that, okay? Always remember that you are worth so much. That’s why I had to stop you from killing yourself that night. That’s why I had to tell your father.
That’s why I had to work for you and file all those stupid papers and put up with your snark…
Because you are worth it, Ashley. You are worth the whole of the world and it’s about time you realize it. Like I have. Like I do.
///
“Even after all this time, I never know how to say this to anyone…” Arthur Carlin starts, his voice a rough rumble and that clock is muted now and the rest of the house is still so quiet.
And Ashley is holding her breath again.
And her heart is pounding so loudly, like drums in her ears.
And she feels nervous, but she cannot understand why… just that she is, terribly so.
“…but the comment you made, about ‘finding’ Spencer, well… I’m not sure when you last saw her, it must have been a while, but… five years ago, there was an accident…”
The word makes a distinct noise, perhaps like nails down a blackboard or a glass hitting hardwood floors, and the word seems to cut its way out of Arthur Carlin’s mouth - painful and horrible slashes that only certain words can make.
And Ashley is rooted to her spot on this couch, the pounding of her heart almost to the point of drowning her, temples throbbing and she fights the urge to squint her eyes in protest to the sensation.
“…and it was pretty much instant, uh, the damage to her brain and… we lost her… we lost her…”
Arthur Carlin is holding her hand fully now and looking at her with a weary stare.
And Ashley blinks, with her heart thundering and blood rushing around her head.
And this time, when she blacks out, there is no beautiful blonde guardian to pull her back up again.
///
I’m rambling and I know it. I’m sorry. You are probably still so in the dark and I am sorry about that, sorry that that is how I have to be. But… I…
I love you, Ashley Davies.
And I will for as long as… for all of time, Ashley, until the universe explodes and we are nothing but dust… that’s how long I intend to love you.
Always remember that, even when your day sucks or life seems hard…
Please know that you are loved.
And know that leaving you is the last thing I want to do.
Love,
Spencer
///
TBC