So this is how it ends: eyes feral with rage and poison filling their mouths like blood.

Piper discovers her passport slid inside the neck of Alex's folded gray T-shirt, one of her favorites, and that's it, something snaps inside her chest and they spend their last moments together yelling horrible things at each other -

"You fucking hid it, Alex? You're a goddamn psycho!"

"You're a goddamn coward, fucking cut and run without the decency to look at me - "

"Maybe because I can't stand the sight of your fucking face right now - "

"You know what, this is good, this is perfect, of course you want to run right back to your boring life - "

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to be really jealous when your mugshot comes up on the evening news."

- until Piper's cab comes to take her away.

The thing is, Alex is right about one thing: Piper hasn't looked at her, not really, since last night. Alex's eyes can be hypnotic, almost magic, and Piper is far too susceptible.

But now, her hand gripping her suitcase handle and determined not to let go, she can't resist one final look.

Alex's face is bricked up with anger, tight and twisted, but her eyes rattle Piper. Not because of the power there, but because there isn't any.

Piper thinks, for a second, that Alex might be about to cry, but then she turns around and closes the door behind her and takes the elevator down and gets in her cab and goes through security and by the time she boards her plane, she's decided it was just a trick of the light.

She sleeps, though not well, on Polly's couch for a few weeks. That's when Piper misses Alex most, kept awake by the phantom pain of what isn't there, a chest against her back and a leg gracelessly draped over hers.

But she wraps herself in the knowledge that she was right, and the unmistakable relief that comes from being away from the cartel. Alex used to make her feel safe, whether on planes or foreign soil or throbbing nightclubs, but something changed after Brussels and it never changed back.

Sometimes it feels dim and empty here, without her - that's where Piper lives now, without Alex - but she feels around in the dark and finds the familiar walls and corners of her old life. She remembers how to live here. It helps to kick memories aside, stomp them flat, let them gather dust. She gets good at not thinking about them.

She even stops counting the days, so she isn't sure exactly how long it's been, but the month has changed twice on the calendar and Piper is almost okay and then Alex calls.

It's nearly three thirty in the morning and the ringing phone makes its way to her dream first, the one where she's back in school and finals are coming and she's somehow forgotten to attend a class all semester. The phone rings there, in a hallway where she's trying to remember her locker combination - even though everything else about the dreams feels like college - and it sounds like an alarm.

There are a few disoriented seconds when Piper is awake but doesn't know it yet, but finally she manages to correctly identify the sound and get one hand on her phone.

Incoming call from Alex.

It is the middle of the night but Alex is probably somewhere in Europe, where it's already morning. Piper hasn't heard from her since the break up. She shouldn't be calling.

The ringing goes quiet and the words turn to One Missed Call, but only seconds later she calls again.

Feeling panicked, like she's been caught doing something wrong, Piper presses the button on the side of her phone to ignore the call. Her fingers are shaking.

It's quiet, then; Piper's heart is beating fast, and she feels trapped in one of those moments in a horror movie where you know a big scare is coming, and all you can do is tense up and wait.

Sure enough, her phone chimes once, announcing a text message. Alex almost never texts, and especially not internationally - too expensive. Not that it really matters for her. Alex is rich, and thinks nothing of spending on extravagances, but she's strangely frugal about the smallest things.

Alex doesn't text.

Piper flips her phone open and reads it.

pick up the fucking phone you fuck

Anger storms through Piper's chest. It's the middle of the fucking night and they haven't talked in months, they aren't together, they aren't anything, so what right does Alex have -

my mom died. answer the phone

The words, neat and glowing on the tiny screen, yank hard at Piper's insides, the moment engulfing her.

Diane.

The phone rings again, the announcement of Alex's call flashing on the screen, covering her announcement of a tragedy. Piper does what she was told and clicks to answer, but she can't manage to pull a single word through the narrow tunnel of her throat.

Through the phone, across an ocean, she can hear Alex breathing. It sounds like it hurts.

For a dozen hard, painful heartbeats, that's all it is: both of them exhaling sharply into each other's ears, and then finally Alex's voice, small and far away, says, "Pipes?"

Her eyes flood warm with tears, that's all it takes, and foolishly Piper replies, "Yeah. It's me," as if Alex doesn't know who she called. "Alex…"

Another eternity passes before Alex says, "Sorry, it's late, I…I'm sorry…"

"What happened?"

"An aneurysm?" Her voice bends at the end like a tremulous question, like she doesn't want to be sure. "I don't know, I don't really know anything yet."

"Where are you?"

"Paris."

"You aren't home?"

"My aunt…she just called."

"Alex, I…I'm really really sorry."

For the first time, the promise of tears creeps into Alex's voice. "My first instinct was to call her to talk about it."

"So you called me instead," Piper blurts out, then wishes she hadn't.

She thinks, for some reason, of carrying a pot of poinsettias over to Diane's place two Christmases ago, Alex's glittering smile and armful of presents, Diane opening the door in her green elf sweater, her voice warm and loud when she asked them did they know Tacky Sweater parties were a thing?

Piper bites down hard on her lower lip and it takes a second for her to say, "Is there anything I can do?"

It's a stupid question, hollow and scripted. She's no good at this. Alex's mom, her only family, is gone and of course there's nothing she can do, there's nothing anyone can do to make Alex feel better -

Except maybe hold her.

The thought steals Piper's breath and makes her feel a crushing kind of awful, picturing Alex alone in a hotel room in France.

Alex starts talking in a frantic tumble of words, "I have to go home. I have to figure out the funeral because there's no one else to do it…"

"Okay…okay, do you need me to hang up so you can call the airline?"

"No," Alex protests, high and frightened.

"Okay - "

"Don't hang up."

"I'm not."

"God. I…fuck…"

"Alex?"

"I don't know…"

She trails off, doesn't finish the thought. Piper sits in the dark with the phone to her ear. She has the vague feeling that she should be getting dressed, that soon she'll have to go somewhere, do something.

Except the truth is, this death is not a disruption to her life. There will not be the slightest crack in her days. She can hang up the phone and go back to sleep, wake up in the morning and go on living unaffected.

The silence goes on for so long Piper thinks it might choke her until Alex takes an ax to the quiet with a harsh, howling noise that quickly breaks apart into rasping, high pitched sobs.

"Alex."

Piper keeps saying her name but she doubts Alex can even hear her over the sound of her own crying. Even over the phone, Piper can tell she's trying to fight it, so every sound is a defeat, a force, ripping out of Alex's throat without her consent.

It's like listening to her get physically beaten. There's that much pain. And it's an unfair fight.

Tears are rolling down Piper's face, it feels like she'll never run out of them. But her own crying stays quiet, even though she can nearly feel the force of Alex's sobs beating against the walls of her own chest, shredding her lungs paper thin. Like they can be in this together, even though they aren't.

She's unprepared when the line goes dead, and for a second she just thinks Alex has stopped crying, managed to force herself under control like flipping a switch, but then she pulls the phone away and sees the call's ended.

Piper calls back, but Alex doesn't answer.

She's sick on her stomach and oddly afraid, like it isn't safe or okay for Alex to be alone right now.

Piper calls three more times and sends a text practically demanding Alex call her back. Then she goes to the bathroom and throws up until she's gagging on nothing but bile and saliva. There, on her knees in front of the toilet with her phone beside her, she cries because Diane is dead and she never said anything even close to goodbye.

Alex finally calls Piper back when she lands in Massachusetts, the plane still taxiing to a gate. It's evening in the States, but her body is six hours ahead, exhausted and disoriented. Her eyes are burning and swollen.

"Hey."

"Hey," Piper breathes out, relieved. Alex hates how good hearing her feels. "You hung up."

"Yeah, sorry." Her voice is worn thin. "I was pretty out of it."

That isn't the real reason, but Alex isn't going to tell Piper that she's disgusted with herself for calling in the first place. She hates that the only thing she could think of to do was weep into the phone like a goddamn child to someone who left her without looking back.

"Are you back home?"

"Just landed. Listen I just wanted to say sorry. I shouldn't have woken you up. It's not your problem anymore."

"Alex, that isn't…I'm glad you called. I mean, I'm not glad you had to. That this happened. But I'm glad you told me."

Alex doesn't say anything. She glances at the old woman in the seat next to her with a mask on top of her head, trying to gather her carry on items, and Alex's anger clenches into a fist in her throat. Piper should fucking be here.

"So…how are you?"

"Shitty," she says through her teeth, and it comes out like an accusation.

Piper apparently doesn't have anything to say to that. She's just quiet. Alex hopes she feels terrible.

And she hopes she's about to offer to come.

She's furious at herself for it, but that's what Alex is waiting for. She wants Piper to say she's on her way to Northampton, that she'll meet her at her mom's house, or maybe even that she's already in a hotel nearby and can be at the airport in twenty minutes to pick her up.

Her mom is dead and the world's gone dark and this morning there had been a moment where Alex thought she might actually die if she didn't hear Piper's voice, if Piper wouldn't even pick up the phone for her.

"Um…is your aunt there?"

"No. She's not even coming up for the funeral." The word clashes in her ears the second after Alex says it, and she shudders. When Piper says nothing, Alex adds, desperate now, "It'll probably be Saturday morning, but I'll let you know for sure."

Piper is supposed to say she'll be there before then, that of course she will, but instead there's too long of a pause before Piper says, "Al, I don't…I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Her throat tightens and people are standing up, making their way off the plane. Alex stand on autopilot, grabbing her bag from the overhead bin. "My mother just died." Her voice is too loud and people turn around to stare. Alex lowers her eyes and her voice. "You're three fucking hours away and you can't come to the funeral?"

Piper's silent on the other end while Alex steps off the plane and down the tarmac and into the familiar airport. Alex shifts her bag over her shoulder and realizes she has to call a car because no one is coming to pick her up.

She has to blink back tears and clench her teeth against the sob rounding in her throat. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want any of this to be happening.

"Please," she chokes out by accident. "Pipes, please."

She thinks maybe Piper's hung up already, but finally she hears, "Okay. I'll be there."

"Thanks," Alex whispers. She's not proud of herself for begging, but it makes her feel less helpless. She swallows hard then says in a stronger voice, "My mom…she really liked you. So it's good."

"I liked her, too. A lot, Alex. You're right, I should..I want to be there."

Stupidly, Alex nods into the phone and they both pretend this is for Diane, who really did love Piper but isn't the one who needs her right now.

"I should go," Alex says finally, her legs working again and taking her toward the signs for Baggage Claim and Curbside Pick Up. "I need to hang up and call a cab."

And she still can't help the swell of hope for something, for Piper to say she'll start driving now and meet Alex at her mom's house.

But all she gets is, "Okay. Just text me when you know all the, um. The arrangements."

"Yeah, I will," Alex answers, and then she hangs up before she turns even more pathetic, starts sobbing over the phone again or pleading with Piper to please, please not make her be alone right now.

She makes her cab driver stop at a liquor store, and when she gets to the modest little house she bought her mother four years ago Alex gets blind drunk and passes out on the sofa.

funerals on sat, 11 am bridge street cemetery

ok. I'll see you then. promise

you can stay at the house if you'd rather drive down Friday

that's ok, probably just leave early in the morning.

fine.

how are you?

….

alex?

Piper doesn't sleep much the night before Diane's funeral, and she wakes up at five am to get ready. She hasn't seen Alex in almost two months and can't help it, she wants to look pretty.

When she sees Alex, she realizes how stupid that is.

Piper's parking at the cemetery and she sees her through the car window. She's wearing a worn leather jacket that Piper doesn't recognize, so it must be her mom's. It hurts to look at her; she looks like something stranded and alone.

The worst part is how much it makes Piper want to hug her, hold her together and keep her here. It's new, this urge to comfort. She can't remember a time she ever thought Alex needed it.

But the feeling gets her out of the car and over to Alex, whose face crumples as soon as their eyes meet. Piper's been expecting something stumbling and uncertain, at least a few awkward minutes to breach the distance that's sprung up between them, but Alex crosses it in three quick, urgent strides and Piper's arms are already open when she gets there.

Alex wilts against Piper, and it hits her that Alex found out her mother died three days ago and this is probably the first time she's been hugged.

Her eyes are tearing over already and Piper is struck with a sudden awareness of how dangerous this is, how hard it will be to leave her.

"You came," Alex's voice is wet.

"Of course." Piper slowly loosens her grip so she can look at Alex, and fuck, she's never, ever seen her like this.

Her eyes are small and bloodshot, as though the only thing she's done for the past three days is cry. Piper hates thinking about that.

Ten minutes later they're standing at the graveside listening to a minister talk about Diane, her volunteer work and her rescue dogs, and all Piper can think is how it doesn't seem right that there are only five people here, mourning someone like Diane. Piper had a vague plan to just be like any other guest at this funeral, just part of the crowd save for a greeting and goodbye, but it's too small to hide. And too small not to see how badly Alex needs someone.

She had reached for Piper's hand as soon as it started, and they stand like that, shoulders touching and fingers braided tight together, for the quick, meager service. Alex's face is a battlefield, her lips tight and her muscles contorting, working so hard to keep herself together, but she's losing to stray tears and an occasional rogue sob.

After too short of a time, the minister asks if anyone has anything to add. Every other face turns to look at Alex, and when she shakes her head in refusal she looks like a little girl.

The undertaker presses a button and the coffin goes down, and Alex actually turns around, pull her hand free of Piper's so she can stare in the opposite direction, eyes on the water beyond the cemetery, shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

Piper hugs her from behind; her face is wet, and she wipes it on the back of Alex's jacket before getting close enough to whisper, "It's okay, I've got you...I'm here, it's okay...it's okay..." The minister says a prayer, but Piper just keeps murmuring her own into Alex's ear.

When it's over, they walk along the edge of the graveyard so they don't have split into separate cars and talk about what comes next. They don't catch up, don't talk about anything except Diane, and then a car pulls up and Fahri rolls down the window to smirk at them.

"Chapman." He nods in greeting. "Didn't except to see you here."

For her part, Alex looks entirely confused. "Fahri? What are you doing here?"

"Let's talk."

Alex looks back at Piper, conflicted. "Just...don't go anywhere, okay? Give me a minute."

Piper nods mutely, thrown off by his sudden appearance, and she watches as Alex goes to lean against the door, talking to him through the open window until he insists she get in the car. She looks back at Piper, holding up one finger and mouthing wait, but she gets in. The windows roll up, shutting Piper out.

She waits three minutes, and it's enough time to work herself into fiery indignation, because, honestly, how typical. Piper made the drive here, held Alex's hand through the worst parts, and the moment Fahri rolls up, ready to talk business, Alex forgets everything else.

Tired of waiting, Piper turns and heads back in the direction of her own car; she was dreading the goodbye anyway. This just makes leaving easier.

But she's barely gotten ten yards away when Alex is calling her name and hurrying after her. "Where are you going?"

Piper turns around, trying to stay impassive even though there's something that makes her sad about Alex struggling to catch up, her heels not meant for half jogging across concrete.

"I need to hit the road."

Alex's face opens into undisguised distress. "But..." She swallows, shoves a trembling hand through her hair. "Please don't leave. Not yet."

Unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice, Piper nods behind Alex at Fahri's still idling car and says, "You're busy."

"No, I'm not. Really." Alex is actually begging her, with everything: her eyes and voice and the hand that comes up to wrap around Piper's wrist.

"But you will be soon." She holds Alex's eyes. "Right?"

"We're gonna go back to Paris next week." Her voice is soft and reluctant and Piper hates her a little.

Or at least she really wants to.

She gets a little closer to it when Alex adds, desperate in a way she's never been before, "You could come with me."

Piper pulls her hand from Alex's fingers. "Or you could stay."

They look at each other, expressions identical, etched with the same ache and the same unspoken words: I can't.

"Alex, I'm really, really sorry about your mom. But it was good to see you." It feels too formal, and so does the kiss Piper brushes against Alex's cheek.

She tries to comfort herself that this is, at the very least, a better goodbye than their first one. But when she steps back, Alex's eyes are clouded with tears; it makes them look too green and too beautiful, and Piper wishes she'd never seen her this sad.

This is such a terrible way to realize she still loves her.

"Bye, Alex."

Piper feels like apologizing, but knows she shouldn't have to. So she doesn't.

"...hello?"

"Pipes! You answered the phone!"

"I did...is everything okay?"

"Everything is fucking amazing, Piper. And I wanted you to know that I'm great."

"What? Are you...drunk?"

"I don't thinks so. But you never know, right?"

Loud over the phone, Alex cracks up at her own inane statement. Piper's stomach twists. She's heard Alex drunk before, and it isn't this. But something's off.

"Listen. Thank you for coming to the funeral. I didn't say that. That was rude. Why hold a fucking grudge right? You didn't want to come to Paris, it's your loss, cause it's amazing here. A-maaaay-zing."

"Alex. What are you on?"

"Why, you want some? Want to come here and have some?"

"Okay. I'm gonna go."

"No, wait. I miss you. Even though everything's good. I still wanted to tell you."

Piper closes her eyes. Alex isn't going to remember this in the morning, and that's why she's able to say, "I miss you, too."

"Alex?"

"Hey, kid."

"Hi...how are you?"

"Decidedly good."

"What time is it? Where you are?"

"Um, it's... Oh, wow. Two forty-nine. When did that happen? Ha. What time is it where you are?"

"I'm always in the same place."

"Oh, right. Bor-ing."

"You sound strange."

"You just think I can't be awake this late and sober."

"Are you?"

Alex shifts slightly, keeping the phone propped between her ear and her shoulder. She's sitting on the floor of her hotel bathroom, her left arm held out in front of her, right hand pressing a cotton ball to the blood beading on her skin where she'd taken out the needle.

"I'm just in my hotel room," she murmurs, her voice already slowing down. "Couldn't sleep."

"Oh." Piper doesn't sound certain. "It's been awhile."

Three months since the funeral. Almost two since the last phone call. That had been a different sort of night - Ecstasy in the clubs, all short bursts of hyperactivity. She's realizing she likes heroin better; it feels more like control.

"Yeah. Haven't wanted to bother you."

...

"Hey Piper? You remember my mom, right?"

"What? Alex. Of course. It's only been - "

"I know, I know. I just. Sometimes it's good to know someone else does."

...

...

"Are you doing okay?"

Alex tips her head back against the door of the shower. The drugs are starting to work, contentment shooting through her veins, and right now she feels better than okay. She feels amazing. She's in a gorgeous city making lots of money and Piper's voice is in her ear. Piper answered.

"I'm doing great."

"Uh-huh. And are you being safe?"

"Mom used to ask me that."

"I know. So now I am."

Without really meaning to, Piper makes rules.

She never calls Alex. But she'll always answer, as long as she's alone or with a group she can slip away from.

(She's on some semblance of a date once, with one of those girls who make Polly roll her eyes knowingly, the hot ones who make her crazy but don't remind her enough of Alex. She lets the call go to voicemail and feels sick the rest of the night, lets the girl fuck her until she wants to cry.)

It's not too often, that Alex calls. Once a month maybe. And in between, Piper doesn't think about her. Her worry and longing do not exist outside the minutes of their phone calls, as though Alex only bursts to life with the chiming of Piper's cell and fades away when they hang up.

So weeks pass when Piper does not wonder how often Alex is doing drugs, or if it really is heroin the way she suspects during the latest, quietest calls, Alex's voice a dreamy, lazy river claiming she only wanted to say hello.

Piper doesn't worry or wonder or reach out herself until the anniversary of Diane's death rolls around. She's expecting to hear from Alex that week, probably even that night, even though expecting anything means she's thinking about her. But she can't help it. The date is a square of quicksand on the calendar, dragging Piper down. It has been a year, maybe fourteen, thirteen phone calls, and Alex still isn't okay.

"Hey, Al, it's me. I just...hadn't heard from you, so I thought I'd call. Been thinking about you this week. Call me back, okay? Soon?"

They saw an overdose once.

Some client's girlfriend, mistress, whatever. She was in the bathroom of a nightclub.

She was young. And she'd looked dead, even though Alex kept saying she wasn't, but no one ever told Piper for sure how she ended up. Piper can still picture it, blue lips and ash colored skin, burned to her memory even though Alex had pulled her out fast and gotten someone else to call 911.

Before Alex's mom died, before Alex's face at her funeral, that was the worst thing Piper had ever seen.

And suddenly she can't stop thinking about it.

8:39 am Alex I'm serious at least text me and tell me you're okay.

10:02 am hello?

12:56 pm A FUCKING ONE WORD TEXT WILL SUFFICE

5:34 pm I'm seriously freaking out Alex please

"Alex?!"

Piper's voice splinters around the name. She's a little drunk, at a bar with Polly and Pete and their neighbor, Larry. Ever since they met when Polly and Pete were on vacation, Polly keeps arranging ways for Piper to hang out with him.

She usually wouldn't answer, not with Polly right here, not when she's on a sort-of accidental date, but she's been breaking all her other rules this week anyway, worrying and worrying and worrying.

"Hey, Pipes," Alex's voice scrapes through the phone, worn with exhaustion, and oh, Piper's drunker than she thought because her eyes are wet and her hands are shaking and she's fucking furious.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"I...there's a lot going on. I, uh. I just landed in Massachusetts."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well..." Alex laughs, a wild, unstable sound. "A lot, actually. Kubra's sending me to rehab."

Piper closes her eyes, feels tears hit her cheeks. Damn it. "God, Alex, what did you do?"

"Fahri's dead," Alex says tightly. "Kubra killed him. Had him killed. Whatever. He's dead."

"What?" That's not what she was expecting

"It was so bad, Piper." Alex's voice is shaking. "And I thought..." She inhales, sharp. "Never mind."

Piper wipes her face with the underside of her wrist, her back to the main part of the bar so Polly and Larry won't see. "But you're okay?"

"I'm safe," Alex says softly, like that's a different thing. "Sorry I worried you, Pipes."

Something about the way she says Piper's name, warm and familiar and soft around the edges, makes Piper realize this is the first time she's heard Alex sober in a year.

"Are you going back? After rehab?"

"Yeah..." She lets out that laugh again. It makes her sound scared. "I kinda don't have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Listen. I have to go, there's a car...but they're going to take my phone, when I get there, so I wanted to call first. But...I think I'll be there for at least a few weeks."

She lets that dangle, the words tinged with hesitant hope. Piper sighs heavily. She doesn't know if she'll go, but in that moment, at least, she wants to.

Until the phone rang, until Alex's voice was back, Piper hadn't understood how much she really believed she might be dead. Or how much she needs her to be alive.

It's an awful way to realize she still loves her.

The phone is small but she's holding on with two hands when she asks, "What's the name of the place?"

A/N: Just kind of a whim and a rush job, I know, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I'm actually almost done writing it, so the second part should be up by this weekend at the latest, but it was getting long so I decide to split it up.

Also, the timeline for Piper meeting Larry probably doesn't fully fit with canon, but since we don't know for sure I moved it up.