FIC: variations on an ending: love will tear us apart. again. [3/3] (Katie, Gina)

Nov 20, 2009 02:05

Author:
eskimo_jo
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Skins, Company Pictures, & Channel4. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. Do not archive without permission.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Excessive swearing/drug use/adult themes/character death/possibly a few triggering references (self-harm, animal testing). You name it, it's in here.

Full notes available in Part 1.





KATIE - Second Chances

Revenge

That horrible fucking troll.

She's not sure when it happened but she wishes that she had been there. She's sick of watching Emily mope around the house like a fucking grieving widow, and whinging on and on at night. It's not like she really has anything better to do than listen, but it's all getting rather repetitive and boring now. Honestly, it's about bloody time. She can't really say that out loud, but it's true.

They're trying this new thing where they're sisters, for real. Like all nice to each other and shit, which only works about 60% of the time cos they do live together and seeing someone that much (especially after getting sort of used to being apart) gets annoying. She was hoping -praying even if she believed in that kind of thing- for the day that Emily's stupid munter of a girlfriend would fuck off and leave them in peace. Now that it had happened, it was too sudden and going from having to fight Emily for the shower twice a week to everyday was pissing her off. Well, it wasn't really all that sudden. Katie could have seen it from a month back, or even the beginning, cos there's no way in hell someone like Naomi Campbell could ever keep up with her sister for that long.

They were Fitches.

That's all there was to it.

But she can try telling that to Emily 'til she's hoarse and it doesn't make a lick of difference. Katie wonders if she should just dress in black and hire some wailing women to follow Emily around for the week. Maybe make an effigy of the blonde twat and throw it on a pyre while they're at it. People could say what they wanted about her, but at least she learned something from Classics last term. Might as well do it all up in style. The way Emily was going on, it certainly seemed to warrant the display.

The only good news, apart from not having to hear Campbell's insufferable voice or see her smarmy-as-shit ugly face, is that Emily no longer feels the need to excitedly overshare her latest sexual discovery. Katie didn't really care to hear anything about it in the first place, let alone have to picture her sister and that minger doing any of that. To be honest, she felt a little sorry for her twin because it was obvious she had no other girl friends to share that kind of news with. Naomi was a cunt and probably never listened to people when they talked about feelings, and JJ was a boy who passed out at the mention of wet knickers. She was nearly certain that no one with half-a-brain would confide in Panda or Effy about that. Pandora because she was about as helpful as a bag of rocks, if you could get her to actually sit down and listen, and Effy cos if anyone could out-smug Naomi, it was Effy fucking Stonem. Katie couldn't imagine anything worse than being excited about some sexual discovery (or even a normal one) and watching Effy's face just all smirky and cocky and knowing. Well, watching Effy's face do that as Naomi ate her out would be worse, she supposes. Katie wouldn't past either of those two manky whores to do that either. They'd been spending enough time together lately. And the dirty slag Effy would probably fuck anything that moved as long as she could get something in her fanny for a few minutes.

It brings a shudder through her body, making her skin crawl as foggy memories floated just out of reach. It feels a little like jealousy mixed with something like -No. Katie shakes her head to clear whatever it is.

Katie randomly tries to remember a time when she didn't hate Effy. She was actually quite taken with her at first. She honestly believed they could rule Roundview together. Never happened, obviously. Rock to the head and all that. Fucking mushrooms. It occurs to her that there was a time, but she can't pinpoint it, when it shifted into an all out proper competition, and Effy hadn't even been trying to win. Everything always turned into a goddamn competition and Katie was sick of coming out on the losing end. With Effy, with any number of tosser boyfriends, with Emily and Naomi...

Katie opens up her laptop and logs onto Naomi's Facebook profile. It still says she's “in a relationship” if that wasn't like the overstatement of the century on her part. (She knows through Emily that Naomi had refused to disclose who she was in a relationship with the entire time, even though everyone and their mad grannies already knew. Emily cried for about an hour before Katie had dragged her out of bed and to the local).

Ur such a fuckin cunt. hope u realise what u did. shows shes better off wivout u coward

She feels better after she presses 'Share', like she's won. She knows it'll probably be only a few hours before she's blocked. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

She doesn't realise she must have laughed at her own actions until Emily's voice breaks her concentration.

"What's so funny?”

She looks over to see Emily staring at her from her tortoise-shell-like hidey-hole under the duvet. She looks exhausted.

“Nothing.” She pauses and quirks an eyebrow. “You look well bad, Ems.” Another pause. “Look, it's over now, yeah? Done. So you need to, like, get over it. She's a slut and didn't deserve you. End of story.” That was her best attempt at comfort.

Emily sighs, and it almost sounds like they're about to have another row over the virtues (or lack thereof) of Naomi Campbell. But Emily just shakes her head a little bit and closes her eyes, the fight in her seemingly gone entirely.

“God, you're so depressing I'm going to slit my wrists soon.”

“Thanks for your compassion,” Emily mumbles. There's a small part of Katie that is glad about this, about how she can finally make Emily's life a little more miserable at the moment. After nearly a year of the opposite, it feels almost like they're back to normal. She doesn't think it's vengeance exactly, but it feels pretty justified. It would feel even better if she could rub it in Naomi's stupid fucking face, though chances are the twat isn't even upset about it. She never is when they break up, and God knows, they've done it enough. Something feels more real about this one though. Maybe it's because Emily seems so bloody broken.

“You need to get laid.” Katie can't quite figure out how words seem to come out of her mouth without her thinking about them first. It's like magic really. Like she's missing that big nervy thing that connects her brain to the rest of her. She feels like one of those monkeys on Youtube with their heads cut open and just being poked at to see what random reaction will happen. She feels just as helpless. She thinks that maybe Emily got her part of the compassionate gene when they were embryos, which is why she's such a sodding crybaby.

Emily says nothing for a while. “Fuck off, Katie.” It's quiet, but it's angry and so overwhelmingly sad that Katie actually thinks she can feel it too. They are twins after all.

“Sorry,” she says softly, her attitude shifting. She closes her laptop with a loud snap and faces the lump that signifies Emily's presence. “Come on, Ems. I'm trying to help. It's not healthy.”

Emily rolls over and pushes the duvet down to stare at her twin. “What would you know? You've never been in love.” There's fight in her eyes at least. Spirit. Katie nods though and doesn't challenge it. There's not much point, it's mostly true.

“I know you shouldn't cry so much. I know she's not worth it.”

Emily groans. “You've never thought so. I can't really take your word for it now, can I?”

It's Katie's turn to growl. “Stop being such a div. You know I'm right.” Yeah, she's fully rubbing Emily's face in her bad decisions now. It really should not feel so vindicating. “Look, I'm your sister and I have to be honest. I'm glad she fucked off cos she's a twat who never came close to being half-deserving of you, Ems.”

Emily has no response to the statement. Katie's not sure if it's because she's accepted the truth or if she's fallen asleep. It takes maybe 2 whole minutes for anything to come from that side of the bedroom. “I love her. She loves me.”

Katie wants to argue with that but realises she really has no idea how Naomi feels. She can pretend she does based on the soggy dildo's actions, but she knows that Emily would know better. She settles for the less argumentative answer. “Loved.” She emphasises the past tense.

“And, for the record, I love you too,” she says with not an ounce of vinegar. She's sincere, for once.

“Not the same,” Emily immediately retorts and that stings, like it means shit. Katie doesn't tell people she loves them, mostly because she doesn't love anyone -except her sister. And it hurts that Emily can brush off that kind admission so easily. Sure, she doesn't love-love her the way Emily thinks Naomi did, but it should still mean something. Again, she curses the ugly blonde moron. If this had been a year ago, Emily would have smiled at Katie's words. She's not sure she's been brushed off because only Naomi's love matters, or if she honestly doesn't care about Katie anymore. Or she doesn't trust her own sister.

She considers the conversation over. She was honest, and open, and well compassionate and Emily just kicked it all aside so fuck it. She crawls under her own duvet and flicks off the light switch. She tries to ignore the incredibly quiet sobs seeping out of Emily's pillow.

In the morning, two days later, Emily is perched on a stool in the kitchen picking at something their mother generously refers to as 'breakfast'. It looks even more healthy and disgusting than usual, if that's possible. She watches her mum shuffle around and pick up objects, then place them back down, reorganizing, as if their immaculate house needs any sort of cleaning whatsover. Emily doesn't even look up when their mother drops some rather odd looking metal utensils, making a huge racket in the process. She turns to Katie in the doorway.

“Katie, dear, come help me clean this up.” It's probably supposed to be a request but it sounds like a command, and Katie automatically reacts.

“Why can't Emily--”

“Emily's eating,” her mother cuts her off and Katie tosses a skeptical look in her direction, completely aware that all Emily has succeeded in doing is push the food around the plate. She's not eating; she's moping. Katie huffs loudly in protest but bends down to pick up the mess anyway and throws them loudly on the granite countertop, finally making Emily jump slightly at the sound.

Jenna cuts her eyes at her older daughter in warning. Katie turns her back. Ever since Emily had returned, making the less-than-triumphant announcement that everyone could fuck off now cos she and Naomi were through, their mother had been doting on the soppy cow. Going for a sodding Mother-of-the-Year award or something. Katie knew the feeling, and it was suffocating. Not at all helpful in the least. It made everything ten times worse. Just kind of encouraging the fact that there was something to be massively upset about. Katie knows however, that it is completely fake. Her mother couldn't be more excited that Naomi was out of the picture.

Normally, Katie would agree but as she sees her sister glumly nibbling at the rubbish on her plate, and their mother's secret smile of victory peeking out every time she looks at Emily, any agreement evaporates. Because, even despite how much she hates Naomi Campbell and how much shit Emily put her through over the past year, they're still sisters. Katie wants that to mean something. She needs it to.

Climbing onto a stool beside her twin, she sighs. Excessively loudly. “It'd be nice to have what you did with Naomi,” she states as if she just mentioned that the sky is blue. Both women turn quickly to Katie, both confused by her admission. She shrugs it off. It doesn't really matter if it's half a lie. She despises the blonde minger and wouldn't want to voluntarily be within 10 feet of her for any reason, but the ideal is the same. The whole point is that she's supposed to stand by her sister and repair whatever it was that had been broken in their family.

She catches the smirk on Emily's face as she glances at their mother, who, if Katie didn't know better, looked as if she was about to have a heart attack. She knows she's thinking 'No, for the love of God, not the other one too!'

Now, Katie may not be able to convince Emily that's she better off without the twat, but she could at least make a go of being friends again. It had the added bonus of witnessing her mother suffer through various levels of horror. It was the one thing they'd always enjoyed together. She decides to push it.

“Like, I'd go lezza if I could get that kind of love.”

Emily spits out what little she had in her mouth at that moment. Katie smiles broadly and catches Emily sniggering at the effect it's having on their mum. It feels good to be able to do that again, even if it is at the expense of other family and even if for some reason the image of goddamn Effy Stonem pops into her mind. (She squishes that down quickly). Finally, Jenna's face relaxes from the utter shock of Katie's declaration.

“Very funny.” She's figured out that Katie's just trying to wind her up. Emily has pushed the mush away from her and has a small smile still lingering on her lips. Their mother leaves the room, obviously having enough of the twins' game. They sit in silence for a few minutes.

Katie speaks first, softly. “I mean it, Ems.” And she's afraid she actually does. Unlike their mum, she knows it's not about dangly bits between legs. You could staple 100 cocks onto a person and that wouldn't make them anymore capable of love, giving or receiving it. It's about brains and hearts. As much as it pains her to admit it, she knows that her sister was in love and beyond the jealousy of that, beyond the resentment of being left behind and beyond the fact that it was with one of the most undeserving, insufferable cunts in existence, she also knows that it has to be admired. It has to be truly appreciated for how amazing and rare it actually was. (And not just cos she sees loving that fashion-challenged tree-hugger as an impossible task.)

Emily surprises her by reaching out and grabbing her around the shoulders, hugging onto her tightly. It takes a second for her to reciprocate the gesture, but she does even though it feels so odd after all these months. She can't help herself. “I know you're lonely and all now but I hope this isn't turning you on.”

There's a sharp sound of shock from her sister as she pushes back so forcefully that Katie falls off the stool and heavily onto the wooden floor. Maybe it should hurt a little, and god knows, it made enough noise to wake the dead, but Emily is laughing so hard that she's almost crying and Katie can't help but laugh along with her cos the whole situation is so ridiculous and normal.

“You're such a bitch,” Emily finally says through her laughter, and it's obvious she doesn't really mean it this time. Katie pulls herself off the floor and wraps her arms around her sister again, dancing a little in place. She thinks that maybe Emily is crying or something, cos her shoulder feels a little damp and her twin isn't laughing anymore so she hugs harder. She wants to say time heals, it's better this way, it's going to be alright and all that soppy rubbish but it's not necessary. She's pretty sure it already is okay.



GINA - For all the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti

Deliverance

She truly believes, even despite her faults, that she's a good mother. At least to a point. But it still takes her almost 6 days to realise that Emily isn't around anymore and that her daughter is being more contrary than usual, a feat in itself. Not to mention she's barely left her bedroom save for the night she came home at half six in the morning, completely mashed and made a right mess of the kitchen, apparently scavenging for food or drink. Her intuition should have signalled that something was happening, but it hadn't.

Naomi is lounging on the couch, watching something brainless and trite on the TV, also unlike her. Gina enter slowly as if her daughter were a wild animal, holding the mug of tea to her chest. She has visions of Naomi jumping up and knocking it from her hand in a dramatic attempt to escape the obvious impending conversation.

“Hiya, love,” she starts, “Brought you a cuppa.”

Naomi mumbles something that is hopefully thankful but she can't be sure. She places the mug down and takes a seat at Naomi's feet, patting her legs as if she was a dog.

“Everything alright?”

“Mum...” The tone is warning and Gina knows it well. It usually means something is terribly wrong but her stubborn as nails daughter either believes she won't understand or that talking about it would make her weak. She blames herself for that facet of Naomi's attitude; she had stressed inner-strength and self-power and all that bollocks, and obviously Naomi had taken it soundly to heart, regardless of the circumstance. It ended up accomplishing the exact opposite of what she had wanted: an open dialogue whenever necessary. The only thing Naomi was ever upfront and honest about was how much and in which ways Gina was pissing her off on any given day. However, she had heard via Keiran about these rare and almost mythical moments of visible weakness in her daughter. She wasn't really made of stone after all.

“Are you sure? Heard you crying last night.” It is a risky move, she knows that.

The accompanying glare is something between utter shock, loathing and humiliation. Gina doesn't think she's ever felt so cold. She continues anyway, “Is it about Emily?”

Finally Naomi shifts her stare back to the television. “None of your business, mum.” Her face hardens into anger again.

“For Christ's sake,” Gina sighs. “You need to talk about it.”

“I have done,” the younger woman states clearly, as if speaking to a deaf idiot. “With my friends.” She stresses the final word as if its some kind of insult to her mother.

“Right, and that's done so much good, hasn't it?”

Naomi has no gobshite response this time. She chooses instead to completely ignore the comment and focus on the TV programme again. It's bloody ridiculous how difficult her daughter could be. There was just not point in fighting with her.

“Just tell me, honey. Why did you do it?”

The implication is that Naomi had done it again. She had fucked everything up and knowing her daughter, it was unfortunately very likely. It wasn't that she wanted to, of course not. Naomi wasn't callous or indifferent, not like her father. It was the opposite. She cared too much and if Gina understood her own flesh and blood at all, that was precisely the problem. Emotions scared the shit out of her and she couldn't control them (or herself) so she ran as fast as possible in the opposite direction, leaving as much destruction in her wake as she could.

But the response Gina expects never comes. Naomi doesn't huff, she doesn't moan or curse; she doesn't point her eyes sharply in Gina's direction. Instead she stares straight at the flashing screen. She's worrying her bottom lip, possibly to save it from quivering. “Why do you always think it's my fault?” Her voice is as lost as Gina's ever heard it and the resulting shock is staggering. It catches her off-guard. The brutal truth is that she just assumed. Naomi's never proven her otherwise. The idea that Emily may have actually done the running had not even crossed her mind and she wasn't exactly sure if Naomi was insinuating it was the case or if she was just getting better at deflecting. That wouldn't be surprising either.

She decides to let it go. It doesn't really matter now either way, without the reasoning. But before she had a chance to ask for details, Naomi grumbles again.

“She's just like him, you know.”

There was no doubt who “he” was. It was always the same and said with the same disgust. She had tried her best to get Naomi not to hate her father to no avail. There was nothing healthy (psychologically, spiritually, or otherwise) in carrying that burden around. Naomi always denied feeling any acute anger towards her father but it always came through in her tone. Or in her fears. She had never told Naomi she knew about this fear because she wasn't sure which was worse: living life always afraid of getting close to people, in the chances that they will leave after you've become attached, or being told that your issues aren't unique. Her fear was not confined to a rare and exclusive few. For Naomi, that truth may actually be worse; she embraced her uniqueness.

This 'I Hate Daddy' club had prompted her daughter to spend more and more time with that odd Effy Stonem and the loud boy that followed her around occasionally. They'd been to the house a handful of times and Effy had been quite blunt when Gina inquired as to her parents' well-being, echoed by a similar sentiment from the boy who was obviously already intoxicated and a bit of a lout to be honest. This was a club to which Emily was not privy. As much as she seemed to detest her own family the majority of the time, the simple fact was that she didn't have a father who buggered off to god knows where. Gina wonders suddenly if it was the Effy girl that had something to do with Emily's absence; if somehow the obviously strong friendship that grew between Effy and Naomi was an issue.

She swallows hard, and prays that her ex-husband hasn't ruined yet another relationship, even in his own absence.

“You know that's not true, love.” She wants to know more, why Naomi would make such a bold claim. It was true in one sense: they were both gay but the difference was obvious and Gina can't believe Naomi would ignore the fact that Emily had been openly comfortable with being gay from the beginning of their relationship. (She couldn't be sure when that was but she assumed it was around the time she saw the pyjama-clad girl wander into her kitchen and inquire about Naomi's whereabouts. Even as a fairly distracted sideline observer, it had been apparent where Emily's intentions were.)

It had always worried Gina that her daughter may be under the assumption that being gay means abandonment and dishonesty, no matter how illogical that may be. She hoped Naomi would be smarter but she also had learned a long time ago that logic and intelligence didn't always come hand in hand where emotions were concerned.

Naomi's father, Brian, the stupid prick of a man, had abandoned them both when Naomi was just 11. She was old enough to be thoroughly attached, and also, to understand almost precisely what was happening. (She'd always been clever.) The arguments were loud and often hurtful, and although they never involved Naomi, she bore silent witness to them all. She was there when Gina screamed about knowing yourself, and when Brian had screamed back about living a lie, both ideas still a little convoluted to her young brain. She was there when Gina caught him him in the living room with another man, after they had been at the shops looking for his Father's Day gift (Ironic, really). She was there when Brian cursed at her and slammed the door behind him, never to return... without even saying goodbye to his only daughter. For her own coping, she threw herself into reinvention and new-age spirituality with a healthy dose of strong, almost obsessive feminist philosophy. Anything to convince herself she wasn't as useless as he had made her feel.

Since that point, she'd seen Naomi become more adamant about people being clear about themselves: their desires, truths, categorizing themselves into pockets (Something Gina was fully adverse to, and knew deep down Naomi was against as well). And she feared that Naomi had inadvertently associated being gay with ruining people. It was stupid but it seemed so ingrained in her daughter that being gay was something to be afraid of, and that it only accompanied pain. It was the main reason she had taken Naomi aside last summer, after having Emily over almost seven nights a week for two weeks straight, and explained that she was happy if Naomi was happy. She couldn't have chosen better than Emily if she had tried. The result had been 5 minutes of Naomi alternating between rolling her eyes dramatically and huffing and puffing about not being “gay”. And she had used air quotes around the word. As if it actually meant something else. As if she wasn't her father, and wasn't therefore going to turn out like him. What her daughter didn't seem to realise was that her denial was far more similar to her father than she knew. The whole thing was incredibly convoluted, self-defeating and tragically coincidental. Especially now.

Sending out another prayer to an unnamed deity of unknown and unnecessary gender, she hoped that these issues weren't the reason Naomi's only real relationship of her life so far had fallen apart. Another notch on the scoreboard of relationships ruined by her ex-husband. How many more would fall victim to that pillock? She had tried her hardest for years to reverse the damage that his infidelity and subsequent abandonment had done to their daughter. He hadn't attempted more than a birthday card, maybe, if he was lucky, in the right actual month a couple years out of them all. She knew Naomi would never completely regain her trust in people, and she'd never be free of the baggage it had placed on her shoulders. But she thought they had made it through the roughest parts. In the past year, she had seen what real happiness looked like on her daughter for the first time since she was 11. Now, they were back at square one it seemed: her faith in people shattered and Gina left to pick up the pieces, hoping she could find enough shards to glue together, lest suffer a permanently loveless daughter. She had tried so fucking, fucking hard.

She remembers the last time. She rented the DVD of 'Moulin Rouge' but by then it had already been too late. Naomi missed the point. She didn't care for the love story, or love in general. As the credits rolled, she had interrupted her mother's thinly veiled attempt to instill the wonders of love on her with a rather bitchy commentary on how she considered the film just elaborate, delusional karaoke. Which then spawned a rant about cinema and the portrayal of sex workers, and thus the legitimacy (or idiocy) of falling in love with a prostitute, all of whom should be self-empowered and not merely slaves to men, or emotion. It was a lot to hear from a 13 year old. Gina gave up trying to show Naomi the possibilities after that.

She didn't want to repeat herself again. It was a different kind of love that disappeared this time, and showing her a tragic romance likely wouldn't make things any better, or, have any noticeably different outcome from the last time.

“What happened?” She opts instead to try the communication method that had failed so many times before.

“I don't know, mum.” Naomi nearly gets to the end of her sentence before her voice breaks, and a strange relief washes over Gina hearing both the confession and the vulnerability. It's not just Naomi's fault. It's not just because of her inability to trust and her refusal to communicate; not just remnants of damage from her father's actions. She lightly tugs on her her daughter's pyjama leg and Naomi responds only half-reluctantly. She sits up and crawls into her mother's arms. If they had anything in common, they both knew too well what it was like to be the one left behind. The moment Naomi's face touches her mother's shoulder, the tears begin.

“I loved her,” she chokes out, a cold splash of honesty. Gina is momentarily shocked by the admission. “I don't know what I did or why, I don't know what happened.”

“Sometimes you never do, love.” She wants to add that loving someone is never enough but she withholds that hard fact of life for now.

“It's not fair!” Her outburst is unexpected. Again. Naomi is full of surprises when she's in pain. And she'd always had a particular obsession with fairness, but more often in the form of human rights and injustice, a philosophical difference to the concept of fairness as Gina had futilely tried to explain multiple times.

“Life's not fair,” she states simply, like it was actually a satisfactory answer. “And first love's even less so.” A painful-sounding sob reverberates through her body so that Gina can feel it. It makes her own bones ache. She pulls Naomi into a tighter hug. “The only thing it's good for is teaching you that you can survive -heartbreak, loneliness, whatever.” It isn't a very uplifting sentiment really, but Gina always prided herself on speaking the truth, something she hopes Naomi will adopt one day. At the moment, it only makes her daughter cry harder.

Two weeks later, Naomi's come around a bit. She still doesn't leave the house much, but her bedroom is miraculously tidy and all the applications for her future are filled out in crisp, careful script. Top notch organisation. All of vestiges of her relationship with Emily have disappeared, and she's not sure if they've been thrown away or merely hidden. It doesn't matter much. Naomi's stopped crying at night when she thinks everyone's asleep and that's what Gina is most thankful for. Results come in a couple days and Effy's already been around a few times. From what Gina can tell, they're planning something. The boy, James, makes an appearance once or twice at her doorstep, solo, without Effy, and Naomi greets him warmly every time. Her daughter insists (quite vehemently) that nothing is going on between herself and either him or Effy, and Gina thinks she believes her this time. It's not quite the same as Emily, but then again, it could just be maturity.

The day after results (3 As, 1 C), Effy shows up with two large suitcases and a brilliant, genuine smile on her face. Naomi bounces down the staircase to greet her, a beaming smile on her lips as well before she drags the bags back into the foyer. A few minutes later, Cook arrives, a single bag slung over his shoulder. They're leaving on the 2:30 train to London. She doesn't think either of Naomi's friends are joining her doing university, but it doesn't matter.

They all have tea together around the kitchen table and Gina sees promise in the sparkle of her daughter's eyes.

The phone never rings, not even Naomi's mobile which she's pretty sure is turned off anyway. Emily doesn't drop by to say goodbye, if she even knows. It's probably better that way. Although if Gina is honest, she misses the redhead now. But the smile on Naomi's face when she's with James and Effy is enough to push that away. She's glad when Naomi waves goodbye with a grin on her face, and her hand clasped tightly in Effy's.

Three and a half months after that day, Gina receives a call. Through incoherent sobs, she learns that Effy overdosed during the night. It takes a full minute of silence --save Naomi's cries-- for the news to take full effect. She books the next train she can to London, knowing neither James nor Naomi will be in any state to take care of themselves. She debates over giving Emily a ring but decides it's not her place. Naomi will do that if she wants, though she's almost certain they no longer speak. Likely Emily will never hear the news.

On the train over, she feels the obvious dread and grief over the circumstances, but even through that she's proud. Naomi loved again, even if it wasn't Emily, even if it was just a friend. ('Just a friend' seeming somehow insulting to Effy even in her own mind.) And she lost it again, but Gina has no doubt that Naomi is learning to love. It will happen again, and again. And even through the tension and worry, Gina smiles.

END.

So. Did it work? Did you get what I was trying to do? I hope so. I think it was fairly clear, but then again I'm privy to the thoughts inside my own head. I wanted to give a series of reasons about what potentially caused Naomi and Emily's relationship to fail. I didn't want to explicitly state anything or give away who broke up with who, but I have my own answer. It's not really all that important anyway, cos it was an exercise for me to try and write from other perspectives, and in this sense we see what *they* think the problems are, not necessarily what the truth is (that's for the reader to decide), due to their own issues or what have you. I faltered on some I think, but it was worth a shot. Hopefully it wasn't a total waste of time. ;)

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character: katie fitch, character: naomi campbell, fanfic: skins, ship: naomi/emily

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