The Falling 14/14 part three 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
Note: I suppose it is my nerves talking, but... I so think this sucks. XD
Ah, such is the life of a fanfiction writer. Hopefully you, the reader, will think otherwise.
I would still be on my feet...'>
Ashley’s eyes are wide, white around the irises, and there is this shadow to her face - right around the edges of her mouth, like a frown is hiding there… afraid to show itself, lips afraid to commit to any sort of reaction.
And yet, Ashley stays by the door, hand still resting heavy on the surface - body faced in that direction, like she might bolt at any moment… Only that frozen stare gives the woman away, because it has not faltered at all - it is glued to Spencer.
Spencer tries to command actions again, tries to force her own legs to shift and her own feet to walk.
Or to conjure up her voice once more, to drag words - kicking and screaming - from her mouth… but all she can do is watch Ashley, like bird in a cage, stuck dumb by seeing freedom.
For the bird, it is open air.
For Spencer Carlin, it is Ashley Davies.
“You… can’t be here…”
And it is so soft, so tremulous, a cathedral-kind of whisper - only for saints in the pews, only for sinners at the altar - and Spencer hands unclench. She didn’t even know that those fingers were fists, holding tightly to her non-movement and her not speaking.
But the silence is broken now and Ashley is stepping away from the door, eyes still glazed and unblinking, footsteps light on the carpeted floor.
“He said… he said… and then I have this letter, this damn letter… and you can’t be here…”
Ashley’s body is strung up like a wire, pulled taut and Spencer fears that any wrong move will make the woman topple over, so she remains still.
Or maybe that isn’t it at all.
Maybe she just doesn’t know how to move. Or speak. Or explain. Or defend.
Maybe Spencer is at a loss and can’t even think beyond the person getting steadily closer. Maybe all Spencer can see is the way the afternoon sunlight turns Ashley’s skin a golden hue, how it reflects a thousand different things in those almost-frightened brown eyes - disbelief and disillusionment…
And more, too much more, currents of sorrow and waves of want… too much… there is too much there and I can see it all and… and, God, I don’t want to see it, but it is all I’ve longed to see…
“…Fuck, I’ve lost my mind… haven’t I? I’ve lost my mind…” Ashley mumbles this and something falls apart in that never-ending gaze - stain glass windows crack and tears spill out and they are only inches from one another now.
And Ashley’s arm moves in slow motion. And the touch that graces Spencer’s cheek is full of tremors.
And Ashley weeping comes a bit harder now, fingers slipping down and cupping Spencer’s jaw.
“…What is going on? What are you?”
And Spencer really does try, she honestly swallows down the lump in her throat and attempts to say what needs to be said, all the things running wild in her head and heart and soul - a stampede of emotions and thoughts.
I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the entire truth. And my letter is still real, that is how I feel… how I still feel.
I’m an angel and there is a God and it’s kind of nice up there. But it’s boring compared to Earth.
And I’ve missed you so much.
I didn’t mean for you to find out about me. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.
I just wanted you to know that I love you.
And I’m sorry that… I’m sorry that… I’m sorry for so many things.
Sorry that I am only here to leave you again.
Sorry that that is all I seem to ever do… all I ever get to do is leave you…
Instead of words, though, Spencer is tipping forward and Ashley’s hand is forced past her skin and into her hair. Instead of explanations, Spencer is pressing her lips to Ashley’s and she savors the sweetness there, but she tastes the sadness there, too.
Tearful kisses that blur into one and then three and then more, salt and skin - so basic and pure and Spencer is no longer immobile. She is wrapping around this woman, crossing whatever feeble boundaries they might have and her arms are around Ashley’s waist and their legs are pushed against one another.
And Ashley is breathing heavily, bringing up the other hand and holding Spencer’s head in place… drawing me in, devouring me, begging me to answer her in any way possible, to make this real again…
Instead of talking about leaving, Spencer tries to tell Ashley just how much she wants to stay… with caresses that rush up under Ashley’s shirt and with the delicate moan that floats out of Spencer’s mouth and with that afternoon sun watching them flutter to the floor…
/// /// ///
Spencer doesn’t need to sleep.
And, for once, she is glad for that.
Because if she were asleep, she’d miss this moment… and that would never do, not at all.
Ashley Davies is the most beautiful woman in the world and it’s not just love talking.
Even now, tucked into Spencer’s body… almost like a wayward child… and lips slightly parted and fine hair all messy… she is gorgeous and Spencer cannot stop looking at her.
Sleep would just get in the way of a moment like this…
And Spencer thinks of all the great art, all the comets that shoot across the sky, all the pin-up girls and fashion models - the standards of beauty - and it is nothing compared to the slope of Ashley’s neck… how it meets up to those bare shoulders, shoulders that then flood down into strong and tanned arms, the kind of arms that can embrace in tenderness or lift one upwards, propel them to a destination…
Spencer allows her eyelids to close, briefly, because she is already remembering.
Already recalling the way Ashley raised up beneath her, warm flesh exposed and aligned with her own nakedness, the shuddering that they both did at that first full-on contact with one another.
And they kissed because they had to, not just because they so wanted to.
It was everything, right there on the floor of Ashley’s apartment, it was everything.
It is everything.
“You’re still here.”
It is a statement as much as it is a question.
Ashley’s voice is hushed and raw, coasting over Spencer’s chest. And then the voice is replaced by a kiss, right below her collar-bone, one that doesn’t seem to end. That kiss trails along leisurely, though, up the column of Spencer’s throat and she is back to feeling more than she ever has - five points along her side, hot fingertips so sure and steady… heat bouncing back from Ashley’s naked skin to her own… the entanglement of legs, subtle pressure that speaks of the best kind of intimacy - casually perfect, easy and without force, the kind of touches that mean ‘I am yours’…
And Spencer can’t help it, for it comes so quickly and so eagerly, tripping out of her right before Ashley’s tongue moves languidly into her mouth.
“I am yours…”
And she means it. She means it more than anything. She says it because it is true - it is the only truth she has ever known.
But… that’s not all, is it? This is not why you are here at all…
Spencer shoves that aside, though. At least for this moment in time.
Because Ashley tastes so good and Ashley feels so good and… this is so right, so amazing…
Ashley’s weight tilts them both to the side, arms coiled about one another, and Spencer feels every inch of where they meet - a knee going up and another knee pushing down, the settled feeling of Ashley’s stomach pressing against her own, the way they don’t stop kissing… on the chin, below the ear, endless seconds on the cheek…
Spencer pretends that she is a sculptor, shaping Ashley’s shoulder blades - how they curve and shift downward, how they open like wings.
And she follows the highway of Ashley’s spine, downhill and smooth and then flaring up again at the small of the woman’s back… and how it arcs, how it flattens, how it ripples every time their hips rock into each other… forming a masterpiece from clay, that’s how Spencer captures this in her mind, molding and kneading and… and…
…breathing and groaning and sliding and oh so wet… oh so warm… oh so lovely…
Forehead to forehead, the afternoon dwindling down to evening and dusk is catching so prettily in Ashley’s eyes… eyes no longer wide… eyes with so many hours worth of agony in them, agony and confusion and lust and love…
And Spencer knows that her own gaze holds the same.
She feels the blue leak out and down the sides of her face. She feels those shards of her barely-healed heart flake apart and blow away in the wind.
She feels it slamming into her like a cannonball and it sucks away all the air.
“I’m in love with you…”
And this time it is a statement, albeit a wounded one - battered where it should be brand new, defeated where it should be championed. Yet the words barrel the breath back into Spencer’s dead lungs, just like Ashley’s life has given her after-life more meaning than she ever could have thought possible.
And Raphael’s comment comes back to her as she lazily brushes her palm over Ashley’s face, memorizing the contours and cataloging the sensations such a simple act causes in her own body.
“You pulled her up from death, Spencer, on that roof. Now you get to pull her fully back to life.”
That’s what it has all been about, at the end of the long day, hasn’t it? She woke me up and showed me something special, gave me a glimpse of something I never had when I was alive… and it is a far greater gift than maybe I deserve… but she gave it… she gave it all to me…
And Spencer wants to save Ashley Davies.
It’s what she is meant to do.
It was never New York or girlfriends on the go, it was never meandering jobs and that city apartment, it was never school and grades and calls home on Sunday… it was never that bike or those lonely days after coming out… it was never any of those things, though she cherishes them… though they helped create her..
But the day she stepped out of the subway car and she started falling, with those profound questions rattling in her head, that’s when she got another chance at really living.
You really do work in mysterious ways, don’t you, God?
Spencer hugs the woman above her, hugs her fiercely and with abandon. And Ashley holds her tightly and Spencer can feel the shivering of weeping in the woman’s bones and she knows the time has come… to do what I was born to do and what I died to do…
Spencer pulls back and cradles Ashley’s face. She sends out a vaguely wobbling smile, which is timidly returned.
“I’m in love with you, too.”
“…I know…”
“Good, ‘coz it is true. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. You have brought me such joy, more than I’ve ever known…”
Ashley takes a deep breath and lets her head go down, resting solidly on Spencer’s chest.
“…I don’t know how you are even here.”
“I’m an angel.”
Ashley’s body reverberates with the tiniest of chuckles and Spencer grins into the woman’s hair.
“What?”
“Aren’t angels supposed to be… virginal?”
“They must have made a mistake with me. Every time I look at you, my thoughts turn decidedly devilish.”
“…I’ve noticed.”
Ashley’s hand starts to slide up and down over Spencer’s ribs, causing them both to release twin sounds of contentment - one like a purr, the other like a pleasant shock.
“You feel real.”
“As do you.”
“I’ve not… made you up?”
“If you have, please keep doing so.”
The hand stops grazing and comes to a halt, perching on Spencer’s hip as if waiting for the other shoe to drop - a pregnant pause.
“I talked to… well, it was your father… I guess…”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“One can see a lot from, uh, up there.”
“…Oh.”
Ashley gradually moves away, bit by bit, first the hand and then the legs and then the head from Spencer’s chest.
And Spencer feels slightly bereft at Ashley’s retreat, but knows that this is a part of it all - part of this overwhelming rescue mission, this opportunity to give back what has been so freely given.
“You’re… dead.”
And Ashley is watching her, beautiful body now sitting up, curling inward like it needs protection.
And Spencer, this time, meets the woman head-on.
Where she was once locked down by what she thought she was losing, she is now unbound by what she has gained.
Is it all as she wishes? Not totally. Is it the happy ending that came with every fairy tale in her childhood? Not really, no…
But it is real - as real as the floor they sit on and as real as the love they made and as real as Spencer being deceased…
As real as Ashley Davies still being alive and well. As real as Ashley Davies, naked and breathing and existing.
“Yes, I am.”
Ashley’s tears are frequent after that and Spencer wipes them away.
Ashley’s heart sort of shatters and Spencer places her hand where it beats so she can catch the pieces as they tumble.
And they are hugging again, as if they never let go in the first place
Perhaps they never really did.
/// /// ///
Conversation is sporadic and if questions come, they are asked so quietly - as if a raised voice will break the mirage they have built… in this apartment that is growing increasingly dark, the two of them halfway dressed and standing in each other’s orbit… circling and circling, the gravity of their need still so strong.
But mostly they are silent, a head on a shoulder or the faint tug on the hem of a shirt.
Mostly, they are just there with the other - because that is what they will lose once this day ends.
It won’t be talk and it won’t be jokes that they must forsake.
It won’t be idle chit-chat that Ashley will dream about or that Spencer will recollect.
It will be this, the way they fit together without having to work at it, bodies that have never been foreign lands to one another… not really.
It will be this love that they hold onto as the bonds get stretched and time ticks forward and as life moves faithfully on… as it must, as it should be…
Stars can’t be seen from this part of L.A. and the moon is just a sliver of silver-white in the sky and Spencer knows that she has to go soon, has to walk away for the last time and set this woman truly free.
And so she kisses Ashley’s palm and then presses it to her cheek.
“You asked me once why I stopped you that night and I told you that a world without you in it wouldn’t be right… And in that letter I told you again, I told you just how much you are worth… So, don’t you dare forget it, Ashley Davies, don’t you dare… You’ve got a life so worth living… so worth living…”
Ashley struggles to nod her head in fragile compliance, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip and a familiar shimmering to those brown eyes that cannot be hidden by the nighttime.
And Spencer turns into that hand upon her face, shuts her eyes in reverence and allows a smile.
“I’ll always be yours, Ashley Davies… Always yours...”
Ashley draws near then, bringing their lips together in a kiss so yielding and vulnerable, heavy with all those things they have spoken and all those things they’ll never get to say.
A kiss filled with acceptance, one that Spencer will carry back to Heaven proudly.
“Thank you for saving me…” Ashley whispers, writing the words to the corner of Spencer’s mouth, all cursive and fine, tears coating the letters.
And good-bye has never been this bittersweet… as Spencer walks to the door and as Spencer finishes what she started… She saves Ashley Davies.
For a father that made mistakes and wants a second chance.
For a sister that is only a phone-call away.
For a mother who can still be forgiven.
For that old guitar that could be played and for lyrics that can be sung.
For all the affection that is still there to be displayed, to be shared…
For all those reasons and a million more, Spencer Carlin was sent to save Ashley Davies.
I saved Ashley Davies one step at a time, on the rooftop and in the park and upon this floor… saving Ashley Davies for a world that needs her more than the woman can ever comprehend… saving Ashley for the sake of Ashley…
And Spencer Carlin can’t think of a better reason to have died.
/// /// ///
Did you live well? Did you help others? Did you live up to your potential? Are you, or have you ever been, content with the life you’ve had thus far?
Spencer shuts the door and enters that blinding light… but this time, she has the answers to these ponderings… this time, Spencer knows just what to say.
Yes. Yes to all of the above.
/// /// ///
::END::
Epilogue forthcoming…
-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
Note: I suppose it is my nerves talking, but... I so think this sucks. XD
Ah, such is the life of a fanfiction writer. Hopefully you, the reader, will think otherwise.
I would still be on my feet...'>
Ashley’s eyes are wide, white around the irises, and there is this shadow to her face - right around the edges of her mouth, like a frown is hiding there… afraid to show itself, lips afraid to commit to any sort of reaction.
And yet, Ashley stays by the door, hand still resting heavy on the surface - body faced in that direction, like she might bolt at any moment… Only that frozen stare gives the woman away, because it has not faltered at all - it is glued to Spencer.
Spencer tries to command actions again, tries to force her own legs to shift and her own feet to walk.
Or to conjure up her voice once more, to drag words - kicking and screaming - from her mouth… but all she can do is watch Ashley, like bird in a cage, stuck dumb by seeing freedom.
For the bird, it is open air.
For Spencer Carlin, it is Ashley Davies.
“You… can’t be here…”
And it is so soft, so tremulous, a cathedral-kind of whisper - only for saints in the pews, only for sinners at the altar - and Spencer hands unclench. She didn’t even know that those fingers were fists, holding tightly to her non-movement and her not speaking.
But the silence is broken now and Ashley is stepping away from the door, eyes still glazed and unblinking, footsteps light on the carpeted floor.
“He said… he said… and then I have this letter, this damn letter… and you can’t be here…”
Ashley’s body is strung up like a wire, pulled taut and Spencer fears that any wrong move will make the woman topple over, so she remains still.
Or maybe that isn’t it at all.
Maybe she just doesn’t know how to move. Or speak. Or explain. Or defend.
Maybe Spencer is at a loss and can’t even think beyond the person getting steadily closer. Maybe all Spencer can see is the way the afternoon sunlight turns Ashley’s skin a golden hue, how it reflects a thousand different things in those almost-frightened brown eyes - disbelief and disillusionment…
And more, too much more, currents of sorrow and waves of want… too much… there is too much there and I can see it all and… and, God, I don’t want to see it, but it is all I’ve longed to see…
“…Fuck, I’ve lost my mind… haven’t I? I’ve lost my mind…” Ashley mumbles this and something falls apart in that never-ending gaze - stain glass windows crack and tears spill out and they are only inches from one another now.
And Ashley’s arm moves in slow motion. And the touch that graces Spencer’s cheek is full of tremors.
And Ashley weeping comes a bit harder now, fingers slipping down and cupping Spencer’s jaw.
“…What is going on? What are you?”
And Spencer really does try, she honestly swallows down the lump in her throat and attempts to say what needs to be said, all the things running wild in her head and heart and soul - a stampede of emotions and thoughts.
I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the entire truth. And my letter is still real, that is how I feel… how I still feel.
I’m an angel and there is a God and it’s kind of nice up there. But it’s boring compared to Earth.
And I’ve missed you so much.
I didn’t mean for you to find out about me. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.
I just wanted you to know that I love you.
And I’m sorry that… I’m sorry that… I’m sorry for so many things.
Sorry that I am only here to leave you again.
Sorry that that is all I seem to ever do… all I ever get to do is leave you…
Instead of words, though, Spencer is tipping forward and Ashley’s hand is forced past her skin and into her hair. Instead of explanations, Spencer is pressing her lips to Ashley’s and she savors the sweetness there, but she tastes the sadness there, too.
Tearful kisses that blur into one and then three and then more, salt and skin - so basic and pure and Spencer is no longer immobile. She is wrapping around this woman, crossing whatever feeble boundaries they might have and her arms are around Ashley’s waist and their legs are pushed against one another.
And Ashley is breathing heavily, bringing up the other hand and holding Spencer’s head in place… drawing me in, devouring me, begging me to answer her in any way possible, to make this real again…
Instead of talking about leaving, Spencer tries to tell Ashley just how much she wants to stay… with caresses that rush up under Ashley’s shirt and with the delicate moan that floats out of Spencer’s mouth and with that afternoon sun watching them flutter to the floor…
/// /// ///
Spencer doesn’t need to sleep.
And, for once, she is glad for that.
Because if she were asleep, she’d miss this moment… and that would never do, not at all.
Ashley Davies is the most beautiful woman in the world and it’s not just love talking.
Even now, tucked into Spencer’s body… almost like a wayward child… and lips slightly parted and fine hair all messy… she is gorgeous and Spencer cannot stop looking at her.
Sleep would just get in the way of a moment like this…
And Spencer thinks of all the great art, all the comets that shoot across the sky, all the pin-up girls and fashion models - the standards of beauty - and it is nothing compared to the slope of Ashley’s neck… how it meets up to those bare shoulders, shoulders that then flood down into strong and tanned arms, the kind of arms that can embrace in tenderness or lift one upwards, propel them to a destination…
Spencer allows her eyelids to close, briefly, because she is already remembering.
Already recalling the way Ashley raised up beneath her, warm flesh exposed and aligned with her own nakedness, the shuddering that they both did at that first full-on contact with one another.
And they kissed because they had to, not just because they so wanted to.
It was everything, right there on the floor of Ashley’s apartment, it was everything.
It is everything.
“You’re still here.”
It is a statement as much as it is a question.
Ashley’s voice is hushed and raw, coasting over Spencer’s chest. And then the voice is replaced by a kiss, right below her collar-bone, one that doesn’t seem to end. That kiss trails along leisurely, though, up the column of Spencer’s throat and she is back to feeling more than she ever has - five points along her side, hot fingertips so sure and steady… heat bouncing back from Ashley’s naked skin to her own… the entanglement of legs, subtle pressure that speaks of the best kind of intimacy - casually perfect, easy and without force, the kind of touches that mean ‘I am yours’…
And Spencer can’t help it, for it comes so quickly and so eagerly, tripping out of her right before Ashley’s tongue moves languidly into her mouth.
“I am yours…”
And she means it. She means it more than anything. She says it because it is true - it is the only truth she has ever known.
But… that’s not all, is it? This is not why you are here at all…
Spencer shoves that aside, though. At least for this moment in time.
Because Ashley tastes so good and Ashley feels so good and… this is so right, so amazing…
Ashley’s weight tilts them both to the side, arms coiled about one another, and Spencer feels every inch of where they meet - a knee going up and another knee pushing down, the settled feeling of Ashley’s stomach pressing against her own, the way they don’t stop kissing… on the chin, below the ear, endless seconds on the cheek…
Spencer pretends that she is a sculptor, shaping Ashley’s shoulder blades - how they curve and shift downward, how they open like wings.
And she follows the highway of Ashley’s spine, downhill and smooth and then flaring up again at the small of the woman’s back… and how it arcs, how it flattens, how it ripples every time their hips rock into each other… forming a masterpiece from clay, that’s how Spencer captures this in her mind, molding and kneading and… and…
…breathing and groaning and sliding and oh so wet… oh so warm… oh so lovely…
Forehead to forehead, the afternoon dwindling down to evening and dusk is catching so prettily in Ashley’s eyes… eyes no longer wide… eyes with so many hours worth of agony in them, agony and confusion and lust and love…
And Spencer knows that her own gaze holds the same.
She feels the blue leak out and down the sides of her face. She feels those shards of her barely-healed heart flake apart and blow away in the wind.
She feels it slamming into her like a cannonball and it sucks away all the air.
“I’m in love with you…”
And this time it is a statement, albeit a wounded one - battered where it should be brand new, defeated where it should be championed. Yet the words barrel the breath back into Spencer’s dead lungs, just like Ashley’s life has given her after-life more meaning than she ever could have thought possible.
And Raphael’s comment comes back to her as she lazily brushes her palm over Ashley’s face, memorizing the contours and cataloging the sensations such a simple act causes in her own body.
“You pulled her up from death, Spencer, on that roof. Now you get to pull her fully back to life.”
That’s what it has all been about, at the end of the long day, hasn’t it? She woke me up and showed me something special, gave me a glimpse of something I never had when I was alive… and it is a far greater gift than maybe I deserve… but she gave it… she gave it all to me…
And Spencer wants to save Ashley Davies.
It’s what she is meant to do.
It was never New York or girlfriends on the go, it was never meandering jobs and that city apartment, it was never school and grades and calls home on Sunday… it was never that bike or those lonely days after coming out… it was never any of those things, though she cherishes them… though they helped create her..
But the day she stepped out of the subway car and she started falling, with those profound questions rattling in her head, that’s when she got another chance at really living.
You really do work in mysterious ways, don’t you, God?
Spencer hugs the woman above her, hugs her fiercely and with abandon. And Ashley holds her tightly and Spencer can feel the shivering of weeping in the woman’s bones and she knows the time has come… to do what I was born to do and what I died to do…
Spencer pulls back and cradles Ashley’s face. She sends out a vaguely wobbling smile, which is timidly returned.
“I’m in love with you, too.”
“…I know…”
“Good, ‘coz it is true. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. You have brought me such joy, more than I’ve ever known…”
Ashley takes a deep breath and lets her head go down, resting solidly on Spencer’s chest.
“…I don’t know how you are even here.”
“I’m an angel.”
Ashley’s body reverberates with the tiniest of chuckles and Spencer grins into the woman’s hair.
“What?”
“Aren’t angels supposed to be… virginal?”
“They must have made a mistake with me. Every time I look at you, my thoughts turn decidedly devilish.”
“…I’ve noticed.”
Ashley’s hand starts to slide up and down over Spencer’s ribs, causing them both to release twin sounds of contentment - one like a purr, the other like a pleasant shock.
“You feel real.”
“As do you.”
“I’ve not… made you up?”
“If you have, please keep doing so.”
The hand stops grazing and comes to a halt, perching on Spencer’s hip as if waiting for the other shoe to drop - a pregnant pause.
“I talked to… well, it was your father… I guess…”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“One can see a lot from, uh, up there.”
“…Oh.”
Ashley gradually moves away, bit by bit, first the hand and then the legs and then the head from Spencer’s chest.
And Spencer feels slightly bereft at Ashley’s retreat, but knows that this is a part of it all - part of this overwhelming rescue mission, this opportunity to give back what has been so freely given.
“You’re… dead.”
And Ashley is watching her, beautiful body now sitting up, curling inward like it needs protection.
And Spencer, this time, meets the woman head-on.
Where she was once locked down by what she thought she was losing, she is now unbound by what she has gained.
Is it all as she wishes? Not totally. Is it the happy ending that came with every fairy tale in her childhood? Not really, no…
But it is real - as real as the floor they sit on and as real as the love they made and as real as Spencer being deceased…
As real as Ashley Davies still being alive and well. As real as Ashley Davies, naked and breathing and existing.
“Yes, I am.”
Ashley’s tears are frequent after that and Spencer wipes them away.
Ashley’s heart sort of shatters and Spencer places her hand where it beats so she can catch the pieces as they tumble.
And they are hugging again, as if they never let go in the first place
Perhaps they never really did.
/// /// ///
Conversation is sporadic and if questions come, they are asked so quietly - as if a raised voice will break the mirage they have built… in this apartment that is growing increasingly dark, the two of them halfway dressed and standing in each other’s orbit… circling and circling, the gravity of their need still so strong.
But mostly they are silent, a head on a shoulder or the faint tug on the hem of a shirt.
Mostly, they are just there with the other - because that is what they will lose once this day ends.
It won’t be talk and it won’t be jokes that they must forsake.
It won’t be idle chit-chat that Ashley will dream about or that Spencer will recollect.
It will be this, the way they fit together without having to work at it, bodies that have never been foreign lands to one another… not really.
It will be this love that they hold onto as the bonds get stretched and time ticks forward and as life moves faithfully on… as it must, as it should be…
Stars can’t be seen from this part of L.A. and the moon is just a sliver of silver-white in the sky and Spencer knows that she has to go soon, has to walk away for the last time and set this woman truly free.
And so she kisses Ashley’s palm and then presses it to her cheek.
“You asked me once why I stopped you that night and I told you that a world without you in it wouldn’t be right… And in that letter I told you again, I told you just how much you are worth… So, don’t you dare forget it, Ashley Davies, don’t you dare… You’ve got a life so worth living… so worth living…”
Ashley struggles to nod her head in fragile compliance, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip and a familiar shimmering to those brown eyes that cannot be hidden by the nighttime.
And Spencer turns into that hand upon her face, shuts her eyes in reverence and allows a smile.
“I’ll always be yours, Ashley Davies… Always yours...”
Ashley draws near then, bringing their lips together in a kiss so yielding and vulnerable, heavy with all those things they have spoken and all those things they’ll never get to say.
A kiss filled with acceptance, one that Spencer will carry back to Heaven proudly.
“Thank you for saving me…” Ashley whispers, writing the words to the corner of Spencer’s mouth, all cursive and fine, tears coating the letters.
And good-bye has never been this bittersweet… as Spencer walks to the door and as Spencer finishes what she started… She saves Ashley Davies.
For a father that made mistakes and wants a second chance.
For a sister that is only a phone-call away.
For a mother who can still be forgiven.
For that old guitar that could be played and for lyrics that can be sung.
For all the affection that is still there to be displayed, to be shared…
For all those reasons and a million more, Spencer Carlin was sent to save Ashley Davies.
I saved Ashley Davies one step at a time, on the rooftop and in the park and upon this floor… saving Ashley Davies for a world that needs her more than the woman can ever comprehend… saving Ashley for the sake of Ashley…
And Spencer Carlin can’t think of a better reason to have died.
/// /// ///
Did you live well? Did you help others? Did you live up to your potential? Are you, or have you ever been, content with the life you’ve had thus far?
Spencer shuts the door and enters that blinding light… but this time, she has the answers to these ponderings… this time, Spencer knows just what to say.
Yes. Yes to all of the above.
/// /// ///
::END::
Epilogue forthcoming…