Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Woodsboro wasn't a big town, all things considered. One main street, one grocery store, one school district. Everyone knew everyone else, even if you didn't really want to know them.

Tatum always claimed to hate that about Woodsboro. She always said that she would have much rather lived somewhere else; somewhere where she could take a leak without it becoming the next headline on Top Story.

“There's no way I'm going to end up stuck here, you know?” she said to Sid one night as they were setting up the VCR to watch Top Gun.

Sidney glanced up at her after she shoved the VHS in. “What, in Woodsboro?”

Tatum nodded and sank further down into the pillows on her bed. “Yeah. I'm not going to let myself end up like Dewey, you know? All stuck here in this podunk little shitheap. The second we graduate, I'm out of here. Just me, the Bug...and you, if you want.”

“Me?” Sid asked. She scooted back up to the top of the other bed, her eyes never leaving Tatum's. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

Tatum shrugged and twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she tried to ignore how fast her heart was beating. “I think we'd have fun. You know, just you, me, the open road?” She let the strand of hair drop back down. “Just think about it, okay? I mean, don't you want to get out of here, too? Get the chance to be someone?”

It was Sidney's turn to shrug. “I already am someone, Tate. I'm me.”

Tatum rolled her eyes. “Lame.” She reached out for the remote and gestured towards the lamp. “Hit that off, okay? It's time to watch Tom Cruise frolic around in those tight little jeans of his.”

She didn't need the light on to know that Sidney was rolling her eyes right back at her.

The day that Tatum met Sidney Prescott was the day that she realized that she had found her best friend.

It was during recess on the first day of the third grade, and Tatum had no one to play hopscotch with. Her best friend from the second grade, Lauren Potter, was in a different class, and none of her other friends were in Mrs. Lionel's class either. She didn't mind all that much, though. It was the perfect opportunity to make new friends!

She spotted someone that at least looked somewhat familiar, a blonde girl who was slightly taller than she was, over to her left and decided that she'd start there.

“Hey, do you want to play hopscotch with me?” she asked, holding up the chalk in her left hand and the stone in her right. She gave the biggest smile that she could; her mommy always told her that people liked it when she smiled.

The girl didn't smile. “Why would I want to play a baby game?”

Tatum's smile started to slide away. “Hopscotch isn't a baby game! It's fun!”

The girl wrinkled her nose and turned away. “You're lame. Leave me alone.”

The smile that had been on Tatum's face disappeared completely. She lowered her hands back down to her sides and lowered her head to hide the fact that tears had begun to well up in her eyes.

“Excuse me?”

Tatum felt a tap on her shoulder and she turned her head, using the back of her hand to wipe her eyes before she faced the person behind her. She lifted her head and looked at the girl standing in front of her. She was tiny- shorter than Tatum by a few inches, she was pretty sure- and her hair matched the same dark brown color of her eyes.

“Is it okay if I play hopscotch with you? I heard you tell Shelby that you wanted to play.”

Tatum looked at her for a few seconds, taking in the hopeful look on her face that didn't seem to be fake. “You don't think it's a baby game?”

The girl shook her head emphatically. “No! It's super fun!”

Tatum felt the smile start to return to her face. “Then yeah! Sure!” She held out the piece of chalk. “Here, do you want to help me draw the squares?”

The girl took the chalk from her and returned her wide smile. “Yeah!” She turned around and started to walk over to the blacktop. She stopped after a few steps and turned around. “I'm Sidney, by the way! Sidney Prescott!”

“I'm Tatum Riley! Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Sidney turned back around and skipped towards the blacktop, Tatum just a few steps behind.

They played hopscotch for the entirety of recess, only stopping after Mrs. Lionel yelled for them to put down the stone and get inside before she had to count to three.

“Sorry Mrs. Lionel!” Sidney said as they dashed into the classroom. Tatum mumbled an apology, but she wasn't sorry at all.

They weren't sat next to each other in their class, but that didn't stop Tatum from making silly faces at Sidney when Mrs. Lionel wasn't looking, and it didn't stop Sidney from sticking her tongue out back at her.

By lunchtime, they were trading secrets and bites of their sandwiches.

By dismissal, they were inseparable.

Billy Loomis was a tool. A good-looking and well-spoken tool, but a goddamn tool nonetheless.

So when she saw him approach Sidney in the lunch line, Tatum could do nothing but bristle.

“What's got you all sour-faced?” Randy asked, his eyes following her gaze. His own face fell at the sight. “Goddammit, what's he doing talking to Sid?”

“Tone down the boner, Meeks,” Tatum muttered. “Jealousy isn't a good look on you.”

“I'm not jealous, I'm just saying, the guy's a creep.”

“Uh huh. And what does that make you?”

Randy turned his attention back to his tray, miserably poking at his lunch. “Better than fucking Billy, I'd hope.”

“Give it up, Randy. She's never going to go for you and you know it.”

He dropped his fork and leaned forward with a knowing sneer. “Yeah, well, what's your excuse then?”

She finally tore her eyes away from the sight of Sidney laughing at whatever Billy told her and shot Randy a nasty glare. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You look like you're ready to kill the guy just for looking at her! That screams jealous.”

“I'm not jealous,” she said, just a little too quickly. Randy cocked an eyebrow and nodded towards her hands.

“Oh, no? Then why are you squeezing the life out of your orange?”

She glanced down at the orange in her hand, realizing that Randy was right; she was squeezing it pretty tightly. She loosened her grip and decided to shift gears. “I just don't know him that well. Do you?”

Randy shook his head and reached back down for his fork. “No. But I think we're about to get to know him real well.”

She was about to say something back to him when she heard Sidney's laugh approaching. She shot him one last glare before she pretended to turn her attention back to her lunch.

Sidney was her best friend.

So when she sat down next to her and told her that Billy had asked her out on a date, Tatum ignored the bitterness in her stomach and mirrored the excited smile on Sidney's face and told her that she couldn't wait to hear all the sordid details while Randy shot her another all-too-perceptive look.

It didn't take long for Billy to become an established part of their little group. With him came Stu Macher, who, despite being an obnoxious asshole most of the time, managed to make Tatum laugh more often than not.

She knew Sidney liked Billy, and because of that, she managed to put aside most of the uneasiness that she felt whenever she was around him. But she still didn't like him, and from the way Randy would glare at him whenever his back was turned, she knew the feeling wasn't only hers alone.

That didn't make her jealous, though. She just wanted the best for her best friend. And she was certain that Sidney Prescott could do far better than fucking Billy Loomis.

“Hey, Tatum? Can I ask you a question?”

Tatum looked over at Sidney, who was lying on her side and looking towards her. “Sure?”

“Why do you have two beds?”

Tatum shrugged. “Figured you'd want to be comfortable when you stayed the night. Sleeping on the floor is bad for your back, you know.”

“You got a second bed just for me?”

“Well, duh.” She smiled and turned back towards the TV. “I'd do pretty much anything for you, Sid.”

The ringing of the telephone woke Tatum up in the middle of the night.

She tried to ignore it and chose to bury her head underneath her pillow instead of rolling out of bed to answer it. After the third ring, she heard her mom's door open and the creaking of floorboards in the hallway before the fourth ring was cut off with a muffled “hello?”

A moment passed before there was a knock on her door. “Tatum?”

Tatum groaned and rolled over, tossing her pillow aside. “Yeah?”

The door creaked open just enough for the light from the hall to stream into the room. Her mom was a silhouette in the doorway, her face ashen in the dim light.

“Mom?” Tatum asked, sitting up quickly. “Mom, what's wrong?”

Her mom looked at her for a long moment, then glanced down at the phone still clutched in her hand. “That was Dewey who called. We....Tatum, it's Sidney.”

“Is she okay?” She sprung from her bed and bolted towards her closet. She pulled out a sweatshirt and tugged it over her head. “Is she hurt?”

“I think she's fine, it's just....” Her mom took a shuddering breath and shook her head. “She really needs you.”

Tatum asked a million and a half questions during the time it took her and her mom to get from her house to the police station, but her mom didn't- couldn't- answer any of them. All she would say was that Dewey told her to get there as quickly as they could. And so they did.

Her mom dropped her off in front of the station and promised to follow her inside just as soon as she was able to find a parking space. Tatum nodded even though she had hardly heard a word she said, barely waiting for the passenger door to shut before she started sprinting for the entrance.

She burst through the door to the station a moment later, almost barreling over her own brother as she did so.

“Tatum, hey-”

“Where is she?” She twisted her head around, eyes desperately searching for her. “Dewey, where is she?”

He grabbed her arm and held her gently in place. “Hey, you gotta calm down, okay? She-”

“Goddammit, Dewey, don't tell me to fucking calm down, you-”

“Tatum.”

His voice was firm, but there was a slight crack to it that made her stop struggling. She stilled and finally looked at him; at the tears he was fighting back, and the way his hair, normally so neat and tidy, was fly-away and disheveled. But it was his uniform that caught her attention; or, rather, the deep red stains that were splashed across the front of it.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. Dewey followed her gaze, glancing down at his own torso before quickly looking back up at her apologetically.

“It's not mine,” he said, and Tatum almost laughed because of course it wasn't his, if it was his he would be dead because god that was a lot of blood and-

And she saw the handprint smeared on his side and the sickening reality of how he had gotten blood on his uniform became clear.

“Oh my god,” she said again. She pulled her arm out of his grasp and stumbled back, feeling her stomach sour as she finally registered the sickening scent of copper. “Dewey, is she...is...”

He shook his head frantically, cutting her off before she could finish her terrible question. “She's fine. She's not hurt, not at all. But..”

“Then who?” She tore her eyes away from his shirt and looked back up at him. “Her dad? Her mom?” He flinched, and she felt her stomach twist again. “Oh god, not her mom.”

“It...” His face blanched, and Tatum realized that her brother was about five seconds away from being sick. “God, Tatum, it was bad.”

Tatum took a step back and brought a hand up to her mouth. She felt her stomach turn and for a brief, terrible moment, she thought she was going to hurl. But she swallowed the lump in her throat and closed her eyes shut tight, willing the nausea away. “She's dead, isn't she.”

Dewey didn't respond right away, and so she opened her eyes to see if he was nodding. He wasn't.

“Dewey?”

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

“An accident?”

He shook his head. “No. Not an accident.”

“Then...”

He shook his head again. “We don't know yet, Tate. We don't know much of anything, really. Sidney....” He took another deep breath and dropped his hand. “Sidney saw something, I think, but I don't know what. Couldn't tell you anyway, since it's...”

“Official police business,” Tatum finished, the words coming easily. They'd been well-practiced, after all. She shook her head out of a mixture of frustration and disgust. “Whatever, I don't care, I just want to see her. Where is she?”

He gestured behind her, towards the office that she knew belonged to the Sheriff. “She's with Sheriff Burke now, giving her statement. You can't go in until after he's done, but-”

As if on cue, the door opened and the Sheriff walked out. His eyes scanned the room, landing on them. He raised a hand in greeting and then tilted his head towards the open door.

“You can go in now,” he said. He frowned and shook his head. “Lord have mercy.”

Tatum didn't wait for a second invitation.

The look on Sidney's face when Tatum walked into the Sheriff's office was one that would haunt Tatum for the rest of her life.

She expected the grief- for fuck's sake, the girl had just lost her mother- but she hadn't anticipated the blind panic she saw in her eyes.

“Tatum?” Sidney asked softly, her voice hardly above a whisper.

“I'm here, Sid,” she replied, rushing to her side in order to kneel next to the chair so that she could pull her into her arms. “I'm here, babe.”

She felt Sidney stiffen against her and for a terrible moment she feared that she would pull away. But then she heard a choked gasp that turned into a sob, and then she felt Sidney collapse into her.

“It's okay,” Tatum whispered into her hair, hands rubbing gentle circles into her back. “I've got you.”

“She's dead, Tatum.”

“I know, babe. I know.”

The months that the trial took felt like the longest stretch of time in Tatum's life, and she wasn't even directly involved. She would have said that she couldn't have imagined how it felt for Sidney, but that would have been a lie because she watched her best friend crumble a little more each and every day.

It wasn't even like Sidney could avoid the trial. After all, her testimony was what the prosecution's case was built around. Without Sidney, there wasn't going to be a trial.

But God, it was killing her.

Tatum wasn't sure what was hurting her worse: the whispered rumors that spread like wildfire through the town, or the accusations slung at her by the tabloid reporters. One of them, Gale Weathers, didn't even bother to pretend like she gave a damn that the person she was dragging through the mud was a terrified 16 year old child; no, she made it abundantly clear just what she thought of Sidney Prescott and her mother.

It was that last piece that Tatum suspected was killing Sidney the most. Her mother. Not her death, but the caricature that had been created of her in her absence.

Maureen Prescott, the town tramp. Maureen Prescott, the slut who seduced half of Southern California. Maureen Prescott, the hometown hussy.

No one seemed to remember that, to Sidney, she was just Mom. And a damn good one at that.

Tatum missed her, too, if she was being honest. Sure, she had heard the rumors about Mrs. Prescott- you couldn't really live in Woodsboro and not hear them- but she had known her first and foremost as her best friend's mom. She had always treated Tatum well, too. She always made sure to ask about how her day had gone, and how her parents and Dewey were, and if Tatum happened to wake up before Sidney when she slept over at her house, Mrs. Prescott would always make sure to make her whatever breakfast she was hungry for that morning.

(Her waffles were better than the ones her own mom made, and she made sure to tell Mrs. Prescott that every single time)

And now she was gone. Dead. Butchered by Cotton Weary (or so Sidney insisted). Tatum didn't really know if she believed that he did it, but she also didn't really care much either way because as soon as he went to jail, she could refocus on making her best friend whole again.

Until then, she'd just have to be ready for whatever bullshit came their way next and hope that Sidney would still be her Sidney on the other side.

It wasn't until the trial was over and things started to go back to some semblance of normalcy (not that she really believed life would ever be normal again) that Stu asked her out on a date.

It came as somewhat of a surprise, considering he had just been going out with Casey Becker, a girl who Tatum didn't know all that well but from the limited interactions they had had, she seemed nice enough. Too nice for a guy like Stu, if she was being honest. Casey was all pep rallies and student council and he was....well, hotboxing in the parking lot and clowning around.

“Why would you dump her?” she asked, and Stu shrugged.

“You're hotter than she is. Duh.”

“Wow, you really make a girl feel valued, Stu,” she replied, and he smirked.

“Yeah, well, do you wanna go to a movie or not? I'll buy the popcorn.”

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't slept well for a few months and as such was not at her peak decision-making capability, or maybe it was the fact that she believed that he really would buy the popcorn, but she found herself nodding and agreeing to go, just as long as she got to pick the movie.

And that was that.

(She chose to ignore that, deep down, she knew the reason was that her stomach twisted with rage every time she had to see Billy draped all over Sidney. God, she was just so tired of being alone)

Casey and Steve's deaths should have bothered her more than they did. She knew that. But hindsight was always 20/20, and Tatum was more focused on the math test she had coming up than the fact that two of her classmates had been “sliced and diced”. Sure, the fact that the police were questioning the student body was a little strange, and her boyfriend had dated Casey, but Stu had been with her that night so it wasn't like he was actually a suspect. She seriously doubted that he would have done anything other than go home and pass out after leaving her house, if prior experience had anything to say about it. Anything more than that would have been way too much exertion for him. So she participated in the gossip during lunch and avoided the news vans when she left and went on with the rest of her day.

It didn't really bother her that much, in fact, until she almost got Sidney killed.

It didn't matter how many times Sidney told her that it wasn't her fault because deep down, she knew that it was. For fuck's sake, the killer wouldn't have been able to attack Sid if she had just been on time for once in her goddamn life. But no, she just had to take her sweet time at the video store, shooting the shit with Randy and browsing the tapes like she wasn't on a goddamn schedule.

How was she to know? How was she to know?

The flashing lights that greeted her as she pulled onto the Prescott's street made her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. She stepped on the gas, making the engine in her VW roar in a way that it probably shouldn't have, but she didn't care because she knew that the lights were there because of Sidney; a fact that was confirmed when she saw the cruisers and ambulance parked in front of her house.

(God, please don't let her be dead, please, please, fuck, please)

Tatum threw the Bug into park and got out of the car. “Oh, shit.” She spotted Sidney sitting on the back of the ambulance, surrounded by cops and EMTs and who the fuck knows else. “Sidney!” She started running, wishing she had worn something other than a goddamn skirt so she could get there faster. Sidney saw her coming and started to raise her head, and Tatum saw just how scared she looked. “God Sid, I'm so sorry I was late, I-”

“Tatum, you can't be here,” she heard Dewey say, and then his hand was on her arm, pulling her away. “This is an official crime scene-”

“It's okay,” Sidney interrupted quietly, and Tatum took that moment to pull herself out of her brother's grasp.

“Her dad's out of town, alright? She's staying with us tonight.”

“Does Mom know?”

If there was ever a moment that Tatum wanted to clock her brother more, she couldn't think of it. She turned and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Doofus!”

She heard the Sheriff say something to Sidney and so Tatum turned her attention away from Dewey and quickly wrapped an arm around Sidney as she stood up. She started to lead her away, not fully aware of what she was doing until they were in front of the Sheriff's station wagon.

“I think I have to go with them, Tate,” Sidney said before she shrugged Tatum's arm off. Tatum fought the urge to throw it back around her, to just hold her and not let her go because for fuck's sake, she didn't even know what happened, and-

“Meet me at the station?” Sidney asked, and Tatum swallowed hard.

“Of course, babe. I'll be there before you know it.”

Sidney looked at her, lips pressed tight and eyes hard, and for a moment Tatum was sure she was going to say something else. But then the Sheriff was opening the door for her and Sidney was sliding into the backseat, and Tatum was left wondering just what she had been going to say.

When she envisioned how her night was going to go, she certainly hadn't expected to be sitting in the police station for hours upon hours. Then again, she also didn't expect that Sidney would be accusing Billy of trying to attack her, so she supposed that surprises were just out in abundance that evening.

The biggest surprise, though, came as they were leaving the police station.

They tried to avoid the media circus waiting for them outside of the station by going out the back. Dewey led the way and warned them not to make a sound before he left them in the alleyway while he went to fetch his car.

Tatum reached out and rubbed Sidney's back gently before lifting her hand to rest it on her shoulder. “Sid, I-”

“There she is!”

Tatum felt her blood run cold at the sound of Gale Weather's all-too-familiar voice.

“Sidney!”

They both turned to find Gale and her cameraman running towards them. The ice in Tatum's veins flared red-hot, and she wondered whether being the sister of a deputy would get her a lesser charge when she kicked that no-good, low-life tramp in the-

“Some night! What happened, are you all right?” Gale said, thrusting a microphone in front of Sidney's face. Tatum stepped in front of her and shoved the microphone away.

“She's not answering any questions, alright? Just leave us alone.”

She saw Gale's eyebrows quirk up and her mouth start to open, but then she felt Sidney push in front of her.

“No, no, Tatum. It's okay. She's just doing her job. Right, Gale?”

Tatum was pretty sure that Gale couldn't have looked more surprised than she did right then. Hell, she couldn't blame her; Tatum was pretty surprised, too. And more than a little worried, because there was a look on Sidney's face that she hadn't seen before; a veil of calm that didn't come close to reaching her eyes.

“Yes, that's right,” Gale answered carefully.

“So. How's the book?”

Tatum knew that she should pull her away again because there was not a single chance that bringing up her mother in any form would make this night any better, but it was too late because the number of cameras surrounding them was increasing and Gale was answering.

“Well, it'll be out later this year.”

“Oh?” Tatum heard Sidney's voice crack just ever-so-slightly. “I'll look for it.”

And then Sidney was turning away, back towards Tatum and the safety of the car that she could hear Dewey pulling up in.

“I'll send you a copy!” Gale replied, and Tatum saw hatred flicker across Sidney's face before she was turning around again, her fist flying towards Gale's face. It connected with a crack, and Tatum couldn't do anything but stare because holy shit Sidney just punched Gale Weathers in the fucking face.

Then they were being led away by Dewey, the sound of camera bulbs flashing in the background and the look of pure hatred still in Sidney's eyes as they tumbled into the backseat of the station wagon.

“Holy shit, Sid, are you okay?” Tatum asked the second that Dewey started to pull out of the alleyway.

“I'm fine,” she replied, but her voice was toneless and flat and it certainly did not convince Tatum that she was anywhere near fine.

“That was a hell of a punch, Sid!” Dewey called back. “You been training with Muhammad Ali or something?”

“Or something.” She turned her head and rested it against the window.

“Seriously, that-”

“Dewey, shut up,” Tatum interrupted. “Just...just shut up, okay?”

She saw him glance back at her in the rearview mirror, and she shook her head. He nodded and turned his attention back to the road while she turned her attention back to Sidney.

“I got you, okay?” Tatum whispered, leaning over so she could rest a hand on Sidney's knee. “I got you.”

Sidney didn't turn her head, but she didn't push Tatum's hand off, either. And that was enough.

It wasn't until later- much later- that Tatum decided that she could bring up the elephant in the room without having Sidney completely shut down.

“Do you really think Billy did it?”

She wished that she could see Sidney's face; wished that she could see her expression as she responded, but Sidney had laid down away from her.

“He was there, Tatum,” came her reply a moment later. Tatum waited another second, unsure of whether or not Sidney was going to say anything else, but she didn't.

“He was destined to have a flaw,” she finally said. “I knew he was too perfect.”

The words tasted sour in her mouth and she knew that she should have said something else; something more believable, something that wasn't dripping with the lie that she held anything for Billy Loomis other than pure contempt.

But Sidney didn't know. At least, Tatum was pretty sure she didn't. She had spent the last year making sure that her best friend didn't have a clue that she absolutely hated her boyfriend. So the lie was believable.

She was still thankful when her mom interrupted to tell Sidney that there was a phone call for her.

That gratitude turned to horror when she heard Sidney cry out in the hallway.

“No!”

Tatum was out of her bed in a flash, running to where Sidney stood clutching the phone. She tried to ask who it was, but Sidney didn't even seem to realize she was there.

“Who are you?” Sidney asked. Tatum couldn't hear the response, but she watched as Sidney's face crumpled as she set the phone back down. Then she was turning back towards the bedroom and Tatum couldn't do anything but follow her.

“Sid?” she asked once the stepped back inside the safety of her bedroom. “Sid, who was that?”

Sidney shook her head and crossed her arms tight across her chest, gripping her elbows. “I don't know.” She shook her head again and started pacing back and forth. “I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, but-”

“But what?”

“He said...” Sidney took a deep breath, a tremor coursing through her body. “He said I “fingered the wrong guy. Again.”” She looked up at Tatum, her eyes wild. “Tatum, Billy is in custody, how could he have called me? How could he have called me now, if he's in fucking jail? Unless-”

“Unless it wasn't Billy,” Tatum finished.

“Unless it wasn't Billy,” Sidney agreed. She looked away from Tatum and sat down on the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. “Oh my god, what have I done?”

“You didn't do anything, Sid, you just-”

Sidney shook her head again. “Just...don't. Not right now, okay?” She took another deep breath, her shoulders rising as she held it in and falling again when she let it go. “I can't do this right now.”

Tatum sat down on the edge of her own bed. “Is there anything I can do, Sid?”

Sidney was silent for a long moment; so long, in fact, that Tatum feared that she either hadn't heard her question or was just straight up ignoring it. But then Sidney raised her head and looked at her with red-rimmed eyes.

“Can you just hold me?” she asked, and Tatum felt her heart shatter.

“Of course, Babe. Of course.”

She waited for Sidney to lie down before she went to her. She lay down next to her and wrapped her arms around her, allowing Sidney to rest her head against her chest.

“Shit,” she heard Sidney whisper before she heard a sob and felt the front of her shirt become damp.

“It's okay,” Tatum whispered, pulling her closer. “I've got you. You're safe.”

Sidney spent the rest of the night curled up next to Tatum. Tatum spent the rest of the night hating herself for feeling a sick thrill over being able to claim something that fucking Billy Loomis couldn't.

Sidney wanted to share a bed with her. She wanted to be held by her.

Billy could eat his fucking heart out.

A thud of a body against the locker next to hers alerted her to her boyfriend's presence before he had the chance to actually open his mouth.

“Hey Baby,” Stu greeted as he threw an arm around her shoulders. “I hear that you had a fun night without me.”

She grabbed her history textbook out of her locker before she turned around and glared at him. “I'm so not in the mood, Stu.”

He dropped his arm and held his hand up to his heart in mock distress. “Come on, Babe, I didn't mean anything by it! I just wanted to hear about what happened from you instead of relying on the bits I caught on Top Story last night.”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head to look at her, one eyebrow cocked. “You and Sidney were on Top Story last night!” He paused, thinking. “Well, Sidney was. You were just kinda in the background, I guess. Hey, is it true that she punched that Gale Weathers chick in the face, or was that just a rumor?”

She felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. “We were on TV?”

He nodded, looking a little more confused. “Yeah...how did you not know that? It's all anyone is talking about! Well, that and the fact that Sid got Billy thrown in jail overnight.” He leaned down closer to her, his voice just above a whisper. “Side note, don't think he's all that thrilled about that bit. He seemed kinda pissy when I saw him in Trig.”

“Billy's here?”

He straightened back up and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, somewhere. His dad posted bail. Not sure why he didn't just skip today, but...”

She slammed her locker shut and grabbed her bag off the floor. “Shit.” She started to walk away, but Stu's hand on her arm kept her from getting far.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I have to go find Sid!” She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he held firm.

“Babe, she probably already knows!”

“Stu, come on, let me go,” she demanded, but he shook his head and pulled her closer to him.

“Babe, you're not going to have time to find her before class starts.” His lower lip jutted out into an exaggerated pout. “Besides, you spent all night with her. Don't I get to see you for a few seconds?”

There was a hint of seriousness behind the exaggerated expression, and she felt a touch of guilt when she realized that she hadn't even thought about Stu the entire time she had been with Sidney. Hell, if he hadn't shown up at her locker, she probably wouldn't have thought about him at all.

“I guess you're right,” she found herself saying. “We only have another minute before the bell rings, anyway.”

“Exactly!” He loosened his grip on her arm and leaned down to kiss her. She leaned up into it, closing her eyes at the familiar warmth of his lips against hers.

“Hey, you kids! Get to class!”

Tatum rolled her eyes and pulled away from Stu. “Guess that's my cue.”

He flashed her a grin. “Hey, before you go? Just wanted to tell you something really important.”

“Oh?”

“Your ass looks great on TV.”

And then he was gone, sprinting down the hallway towards his class, and she was left standing in front of her locker wondering whether or not she should be flattered and wishing she had time to find Sidney before Billy could.

She just couldn't seem to do anything right.

First she couldn't protect Sidney at home, and then she couldn't keep Billy from finding Sidney between classes, and she couldn't protect Sidney from the clowns dressing up in fucking Halloween costumes at school.

(At least, she hoped they were just clowning around. The alternative was too freaky to consider)

Then she had to choose to open her big fat mouth and basically tell Sidney that she believed the rumors about her mom sleeping around, because that was definitely the best thing to say to someone whose mother was murdered and who also had a killer stalking her.

God, she really needed to learn when to shut the fuck up.

At least Sidney didn't seem to be too upset with her.

If anything, she was too focused on Billy to even care about anything else. It was Billy this, and Billy that, and Tatum was pretty sure that if she had to even think about Billy Loomis again, she was going to explode.

“Billy's right, you know,” Sidney said as they perused the aisles of the convenience store. Tatum tossed in a bag of chips and turned back to her. “Every time he touches me, I just can't relax.”

So fucking dump him! Tatum wanted to scream. It was a common urge; one that she was well-accustomed to choking back. “So you have a few intimacy issues as a result of your mother's untimely death. It's no big deal, Sid. You'll thaw out.”

(You'll thaw out? What the fuck was that even, Tatum, you fucking moron)

Sidney turned and handed her a box of popsicles from the freezer. “Yeah, but he's been so patient with me. You know, with all the sex stuff. How many guys would put up with a girlfriend who's sexually anorexic?”

(Any of them that actually give a goddamn shit)

Tatum tried to swallow the venomous words that threatened to pour out of her mouth, but Sidney was looking at her with an expression that conveyed that she wasn't asking a rhetorical question; she expected some sort of response, and Tatum was just going to have to suck it up and give her one.

“Billy and his penis don't deserve you,” she finally said, mentally kicking herself even as the words fell from her lips.

Sidney's left brow arched up just slightly and she pursed her lips for a moment before turning back to the freezer. “Yeah, well....guess that just means that neither of us has found someone who deserves us, huh?”

Tatum froze in place, the hand she had resting on the shopping cart gripping the metal tighter. “What do you mean?”

Sidney reached in to grab a box of pizza rolls. “Just that, you know..” She straightened and placed the rolls in the cart. Tatum noticed how she kept her gaze pointed down, never quite looking up high enough to meet her eyes. “I don't know, just that Stu doesn't deserve you, either? He's great and all, but....you deserve someone who sees you for who you are, and not just as a pair of boobs.”

Tatum felt her chest ache in that old familiar way that made her nervous as hell, and forced a smile onto her face so that Sidney wouldn't notice the tremble in her hands. “To be fair, my tits are pretty great, Sid.”

As she watched, Sidney glanced at her chest. A grin formed on her face; the first real grin that Tatum had seen in days, and she finally looked up to meet Tatum's gaze. “Yeah, they are.”

Tatum's heart thudded again, making its presence uncomfortably known, and she rolled her eyes while shaking her head. “Stu's an ass man anyway, so your argument is unfounded.”

“Wow that is....so not the point, Tate,” Sidney said with a hint of exasperation. Tatum shrugged and turned away to grab another bag of chips off the shelf.

“Stu's...he's a good guy. Sure, he can be a dick sometimes, but he genuinely cares.”

(Not like you do, though, she thought, but she forced the thought away just as quickly)

She tossed in the bag and started to push the cart forward again. “And he's packing a solid seven inches in those shorts, so...”

She heard Sidney scoff before she felt a gentle shove on her shoulder. “You're incorrigible!”

Tatum shrugged again. “One of us has to be!”

The party was meant to keep Sidney safe. If she was there, surrounded by friends, then how could the killer hope to get her? If she was with Tatum, the jackass would have to go through her first before he could get to Sid.

Tatum knew Stu's house front and back, and Stu would help them if something were to happen- he might not have been the toughest guy she knew, but she was certain that he'd be able to hold his own in a fight.

She'd be safe, she'd be safe, she'd be safe.

She should have known better.

That's what she kept telling herself, at least. Even as the knife was coming down towards her arm, even as it tore through her skin and left searing pain in its wake, all she could think was “goddamn, I should have known better.”

Her second thought was of Sidney. And it was that thought that made her stumble backwards and away from the masked figure.

(The killer, Tatum, let's not fool ourselves)

She backed herself against one of the Machers' lawn chairs, clutching her arm to her chest and trying to figure out any possible way out of the garage that wouldn't result in her becoming a shish kebab.

(Think, Tatum, think)

The killer followed after her, so she darted to the right and towards the fridge. She grabbed the handle to the freezer and swung it open, slamming it into the killer's face. He went down with a grunt; a grunt that was all-too-familiar-

(It couldn't be)

-and Tatum took that moment to sprint back to the garage door opener. She pressed the button and flew back down the stairs, taking a moment to pick up some of the beers that she had dropped.

“Fucker!” she yelled as she flung a bottle at the killer. It hit him low in the stomach, and as he started to keel over, she pelted him in the face with another bottle. It only served to enrage him, though, and he ran at her again. She managed to duck, causing him to roll completely over her and slam into the stairs with another grunt. She thought about turning around and kicking him while he was down but even she wasn't stupid enough to do that. She had seen enough movies to know better.

Besides, the fucking garage door had stuck again. So she needed to figure out Plan B because there was no way that fucker was going to stay down for long.

The door back into the house was out. The garage door was out. That left the doggie door. She bolted towards it, knowing full well that she would be able to fit through it because that's how she had managed to sneak into Stu's house in the past when his parents were home and they were trying to be discreet.

The killer-

(Billy?)

-anticipated her movement though, and flung himself at her, his arm swinging down just as she tried to duck.

Oh, fuck, Oh fuck, oh Fuck

She screamed as the knife ripped into her shoulder, cutting through muscle and sinew before striking bone. White-hot pain surged through her as the killer yanked the knife back out with a muffled grunt. A gloved hand gripped her left shoulder and held her in place as he reached around and stabbed her again. Another burst of fire lower down near her stomach, and Tatum found herself pitching forward onto her knees. Her vision went gray for a moment as the pain blossomed and spread throughout her body, every nerve-ending screaming as the floor became slick with her blood.

“Sidney,” she whispered, and she felt the knife twist inside of her, cutting her deeper as her vision went blurry.

She was dimly aware of the knife sliding out of her side; dimly aware of the chuckle and whispered “I'm going to gut her next, bitch” in the voice that confirmed to her that her best friend's boyfriend had just butchered her. And then she was being kicked to the ground, her hands growing sticky as she tried to find purchase against the concrete. Another kick, this time to the ribs, and all she could do was gasp as the air was driven from her lungs.

A few minutes that might as well have been centuries. She wondered where he was; if he had truly walked away and left her there, or if he was waiting just out of sight. She figured the first option was more likely. It didn't matter much in the end.

She knew that she was dying. That much was obvious. A person couldn't lose this much blood and live.

But she tried to crawl forward anyways. The doggie door was right there.

Just a bit further.

(Don't let me die, don't let me die-)

Just a bit further.

(-please god, don't let me die I don't want to die-)

Just a bit-

(-I don't want to-)

And then Tatum Riley stopped praying altogether.

Chapter Text

She thought death was going to be a lot less painful than this. Or, at the very least, a little less fucking bright.

There wasn't a goddamn white tunnel, and there wasn't a lake of fire or any of the other goddamn shit that that Billy Graham guy always seemed to be screaming about. What it was was fucking annoying because all it was was bright with nowhere to fucking go.

For Pete's sake, if she had to spend an eternity like this, she was going to go insane. Especially with that goddamn beeping noise.

Why the fuck would there be a beeping in hell?

Tatum

Great. Now she was hearing voices.

Tatum, can you hear me?

She hoped that she would get to meet God, because hoo boy, did she have some things to say.

TATUM

“Tatum?”

A touch on her shoulder, and she tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids were so heavy though, and everything was so foggy.

“Tatum, honey, can you hear me?”

She was certain she recognized that voice, although she couldn't quite place it. Couldn't place much of anything, really, other than a dull fire in her stomach and her shoulder and-

Billy

Her eyes flew open and she tried to scoot backwards in an effort to escape, but she couldn't move, she couldn't move, and everything was so fucking bright.

“Tatum!” The hand on her shoulder tightened, and there was another hand wrapping around her own, squeezing gently. “Tatum, it's okay! You're okay.”

Tatum froze, because she did know that voice. Of course she did. She blinked, long and slow, and looked at the face of the person holding on to her.

“Mom?” she asked, her voice breaking, and her mom smiled at her, relief evident in her eyes.

“I'm here, baby.” Her hand left Tatum's shoulder and cupped the side of her face tenderly. “I'm here.”

Tatum let herself sink into her mom's touch, desperate for the way that it seemed to act as an anchor to reality. Nothing else seemed to make much sense, because her thoughts were untethered and her head felt like it was filled with air and not much else, and-

I'm going to gut her next

“Sidney!” she gasped, pulling away from her mom quickly. Her heart pounded in her ears and in her chest as she felt the ghost of a blade in her side. “Oh my god, Sidney, we have to warn Sid, he's going to-”

“Shhhh,” her mom whispered, and Tatum felt her squeeze her hand again as her other hand reached up to stroke her hair. “Sidney's fine, baby. She's okay.”

“But...but Billy...”

Her mom's hand squeezed tighter, almost painfully. “Don't worry about Billy, honey. You don't have to worry about him ever again, okay?”

Something in her mom's phrasing raised a red flag in her mind, but she couldn't quite focus on it. Couldn't quite focus on anything, really. “Sid's okay? Sid's safe?”

Her mom nodded, and stroked her hair again. “Sidney's safe.” She leaned back enough so that she could look Tatum in the eye. “You're safe, baby.”

Tatum finally noticed the tears in her mom's eyes, and she felt a lump form in her throat as her chest tightened. “Mom?”

Her mom shook her head and let out a small laugh that quickly turned into a sob. And then the tears began to flow.

Tatum got the story in fragments over the next couple of hours. Or, at least, she got a version of the story. She knew it was a sanitized version; a version with pieces carefully cut out so she wouldn't panic, but she also figured that it wasn't the time or place to beg her parents for the full version.

Besides, there were only a few things that mattered right then, anyway.

The first part of the story she received was from the doctors, who her mom had called in a few minutes after she woke up. They informed her in that all-too-professional manner that she fucking hated that she was going to be just fine; that the knife hadn't nicked anything that was too important, and even though she had lost a lot of blood, they had managed to stop the bleeding in time. The blade had glanced off of her scapula, but it had missed her ribs and the surgeons had managed to repair all the internal damage. There might be some nerve damage in her shoulder, but they wouldn't know the full extent of that until later. There was a grand total of eleven stitches in her arm, thirteen stitches in her shoulder and thirteen in her side.

She would be just fine.

She sure as fuck didn't feel fine.

The second and third part she received from her dad, who swapped positions at her bedside with her mom right after the doctors left. When she asked why they didn't both just stay with her, a shadow crossed her dad's face and he took her hand in his own and informed her that her brother had been stabbed as well.

After she fought back the bile that had risen in her throat, she asked him if Dewey was the only other person Billy stabbed. He looked away from her quickly, but not in time for her to miss the shadow that passed over his features again.

And that was how she found out that her boyfriend had stabbed her brother. That time, she didn't manage to keep herself from getting sick.

She asked question after question after that, but her dad wouldn't answer most of them.

“The nurses will kill me if I upset you any more than I already have, honey,” he said, and she supposed she couldn't blame him. The nurses had come running after she found out about Stu, since her heart monitor had suddenly started wildly beeping, and they were definitely weren't the type to be trifled with. Hell, she was pretty sure one of them was the literal Nurse Ratched just from the way she seemed to take genuine pleasure from warning Tatum that she'd give her a sedative the next time her heart spiked like that.

But god, she wanted to know more. She needed to know more.

The fourth part of the story came from Sheriff Burke who appeared by her bedside a few hours later. Her dad glared at him when he walked in and she saw the Sheriff raise his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I just have to get her statement, Bill,” he said. “It's procedure.”

“Is it also procedure to send your deputies out on protection details without backup?” her dad shot back, his voice teeming with barely-controlled anger. The sudden shift in her dad's emotions surprised her, but it didn't seem as if it surprised the Sheriff. Tatum briefly wondered how many times they'd had this discussion.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she wondered how long-

Sheriff Burke let out a heavy sigh, and reached up to scratch the back of his head. The noise pulled Tatum back into the moment. “Bill, I-”

“Don't give me your excuses, Burke. And get the hell out before I-”

“Dad,” Tatum interrupted, reaching out to lay a hand on his. “It's okay. He's just doing his job.”

“Yeah, well, so was Dwight, and see where that landed him!”

“Dad,” she said, more firmly that time, and he looked back at her. The anger in his eyes softened when he saw her face, and he lowered his head so that she couldn't see his expression. “I have to give him my statement.”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Are you sure you're up for it? I mean, you only have been awake for a few hours, and-”

“I'll be okay, dad.”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising slowly, lowering only as he exhaled. “Okay.”

Sheriff Burke took a hesitant step forward. “Bill, maybe you should sit in the hallway?”

“What?” his head shot up, and Tatum saw anger shining in her dad's eyes. His damp eyes.

(God, everyone's crying these days)

“There's no way I'm letting you question her alone, Burke, are you insane?”

Burke glanced down at Tatum, at the bandages wrapped tightly around her shoulder, and as his eyes lifted to meet hers, she understood. “Dad, the Sheriff is right. You should probably sit in the hallway, at least for a little while.”

Her dad looked at her, his expression almost frantic. “Are you insane, now? I'm not leaving you!”

“Dad.” She turned her head to meet his gaze and squeezed his fingers gently. “I don't....I don't think you want to hear everything I'm going to tell him.”

“I can handle it.”

“Dad, I'm going to have to tell him about how Billy hurt me. About...about Stu. I don't know if I can do that if you're here.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million questions in his gaze, before he looked away and shook his head. “Fine.” He looked back up at Burke. “You have twenty minutes. That's it. And if you upset my daughter any more than she already has been...”

“I'll try my best not to, Bill,” Burke said. Her dad glared at him again before turning back to Tatum.

“If you need anything, honey, just call for me, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.” She tried to lean forward to kiss his cheek, but the motion was too much for her. He realized it though and leaned closer so she could reach him. His stubble was prickly under her lips, and the sensation was so familiar and comforting that she almost started crying. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and let her head fall back down against the pillow.

“I'll be right outside,” he said, and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Burke waited for him to exit the room before walking around to the chair next to her bed. He considered it for a moment before lowering himself down into it. A faint odor of cigarette smoke washed over Tatum as he did, and she found herself wondering just when he had started smoking again. Dewey had mentioned how it was a big deal in the station that the Sheriff had quit.

“He went from a pack a day to just chewing gum all the time,” he had said more than once. Tatum never figured out why he thought she'd care. Now she just wished she could tell him that she had paid attention.

“How are you feeling?” Burke asked her, and she blinked herself out of her thoughts.

“Do you want the answer I gave my parents, or do you want the truth?”

He leaned back in the chair. “The truth, always.”

“Sir, I feel like fucking shit.”

A rare smile formed on his lips, and he chuckled as he shook his head. “If you didn't feel like shit, I'd be concerned. That boy sure did a number on you.”

The allusion to Billy caused her to flinch. Burke didn't react, didn't even seem to notice, but Tatum knew better than to assume he had missed it. “Yeah...yeah, he did, didn't he.”

Burke's smile disappeared just as quickly as Tatum's had, and he nodded. “He sure did.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them for a long moment. Tatum became hyper-aware of the bandages wrapped around her stomach, of the throbbing beneath them, and decided to break the silence so that she wouldn't have to focus on it. “Are you going to record this?”

He shook his head. “No, not this time. Maybe later, if you feel up to coming down to the station after you get out of here. But if I'm being honest, the circumstances of this case...well, let's just say you're not likely to get called into court anyway, so the procedure here is a little more lax than it would be otherwise.”

Tatum felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up at his words, and she remembered what her mom had said earlier.

“You don't have to worry about him ever again, okay?”

“Sheriff Burke?”

“Hmm?”

“Billy and Stu....they're dead, aren't they? That's why you don't need to record my statement right now.” She swallowed hard. “There's no point, because there's no one to prosecute, because they're already dead.”

She expected him to look away from her when he answered, just like her mom and dad and even her doctors had when she asked them uncomfortable questions, but his gaze was steady. “Yeah,” he replied. “They're dead.”

“Oh.” Another lump formed in her throat, and she felt a flash of self-hatred flush through her as she realized that she was sad about it. About Stu.

(You can't fucking mourn the guy that tried to kill your brother, you dipshit!)

“Are you okay, Tatum?” Burke asked, and she took a deep breath and blinked back the tears she felt prickling in the corners of her eyes.

“Sheriff, I'm not sure I'll ever be okay again,” she answered truthfully. “My boyfriend tried to kill Dewey, my best friend's boyfriend tried to kill me, and I'm not even sure if anyone else is dead, so, no, I'm pretty sure I'm just gonna be fucked up forever. So you might as well ask the questions you came here to ask, because they're not gonna fuck me up any more than I already am.”

To the Sheriff's credit, he didn't bother trying to tell her that it would be okay. Instead, he studied her face for a few more seconds before nodding and reaching into his breast pocket to grab the small notepad and pencil he had stashed in it.

“Alright,” he said as he flipped open the notepad. “Then let's begin with the events of last Friday, okay?”

She nodded. Then, his words registered and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“Tatum? What's wrong?”

“You said last Friday. Sheriff, what day is it?”

His brow furrowed in concern. “It's Tuesday, Tatum. You've been out for the past four days.”

Well, fuck

After the shock of discovering she had basically been in a fucking coma for four days, Tatum managed to answer the Sheriff's questions. He didn't have that many, which Tatum realized was probably because he felt bad for being there at all, but she told him all that she could remember. As the words poured out of her, the wounds in her shoulder and side burned hotter and she couldn't figure out if it was because the pain medication was wearing off or because the memories were just that fucking painful. Either way, by the time her dad came back into the room and wordlessly demanded that the Sheriff wrap it up, she was in so much pain that she could hardly concentrate anymore.

A nurse came by a minute or so after the Sheriff left-not Nurse Ratched, thankfully- and when she asked if Tatum wanted some more morphine, she quickly said yes.

Her mom came around a few minutes after that, relieving her dad, and as Tatum drifted off into a drugged sleep, she felt her mom's hand on the side of her face again.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again was Sidney.

Her best friend was sitting in the same chair that her mom had been sitting in earlier, but the differences in their appearances were staggering. While her mom had looked relatively normal (or, at least, as normal as a parent can look when their child is lying half-dead in a hospital bed), Sidney looked ragged. Her hair was a wild mess, and her clothes were disheveled in a way that suggested that she had been sleeping in them, and there was an exhaustion on her face that aged her well past her seventeen years. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was too uneven for her to be asleep.

Tatum could have cried from relief just at the sight of her; at the physical proof that she was alive.

“Sid?” she said, and Sidney's eyes flew open.

“Tatum?” she said quietly, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing and seeing.

“Hey, Babe,” Tatum replied. She tried to smile, but Sidney was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read, and Jesus she looked so fucking tired.

“You're awake.” Sidney sat up straighter and looked around the room almost frantically. “I should...I should call a nurse, or something.” She started to rise from her chair, but Tatum shook her head quickly.

“Wait, please don't!” She let her head fall back down to the pillow, dizzy from the small movement she had made. “They'll come in and make you leave and I can't....please don't leave me, Sidney, please don't.”

Sidney paused with her body half-in and half-out of the chair. “Tate, I really should let...”

“You can let them know later. For fuck's sake, Sid, Nurse Ratched can poke and prod me in ten minutes or something, it isn't going to make a difference. Just....just please stay here and sit with me a while.”

Sidney slowly lowered herself back down into the chair before she looked up at Tatum with a single eyebrow arched. “Nurse Ratched?”

“Yeah, you know, the crazy bitch from that Jack Nicholson movie? My nurse is basically her but with a bigger rack.”

“Why do you remember how big Nurse Ratched's boobs were?”

“Because I pay attention at the movies, Sid, don't you?”

“I mean, yeah, but-” She laughed and shook her head. “Christ, Tate, why are we talking about this right now?”

Tatum smiled, and for the first time since she woke up in the hospital, it felt genuine. “Because that's what we do?”

Sidney shook her head again and leaned forward, her hand reaching for Tatum's. Before her fingers could touch her, though, she stopped dead and pulled back, moving her hands instead to the chair's armrests.

“Sid?” Tatum asked. “Sid, what's wrong?”

Another laugh, but this time without any ounce of humor in it. “That's kind of a dumb question, isn't it?”

“I guess, but...” Her words trailed off as Sidney took a deep breath. “Babe, talk to me. Please?”

“I...” Sidney pursed her lips tight for a moment and Tatum saw her hands grip the armrests of the chair tighter. “God, Tatum, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.”

“What?” Tatum tried to sit up, but the movement proved to be too painful. “Sid, what the hell are you apologizing for?”

“You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. You wouldn't be....” Sidney took a deep breath and looked up towards the ceiling in an attempt to blink away the tears that Tatum had already seen forming in the corners of her eyes. “Fuck, Tatum, you almost died.”

(White-hot pain and blood and Sidney? Sidney Sidney not Sidney, please not-)

“Sid, that's...that's not your fault.” Tatum forced herself to sit up then, closing her eyes for a moment in order to will away the memories, the pain, before she opened them again and looked at her best friend. She tasted blood as she bit her lip to distract from the way her body screamed at her for moving, and she thanked god that Sidney hadn't been watching her face because she knew her expression was pure agony. She forced herself to take a breath and exhaled before continuing. “Sidney, come on, babe, you know that.”

“None of this would have happened if I wasn't around. If you didn't know me. You would be okay, and not lying in a hospital, and...and...” Sidney dropped her head into her hands and Tatum heard her draw a shuddering breath.

“And nothing. Sidney, look at me.” Tatum waited a moment before repeating herself. “Sid. Look at me.”

Sidney complied a few seconds later, lifting her head just enough for Tatum to look at her. Her eyes were rimmed with red and scarlet blotches dotted her cheeks and the sight made Tatum's heart ache. She ignored that, though, and tried to look as stern as she could.

“Babe, you are the best thing in my life. So if you don't stop with this self-hating bullshit right the fuck now, I will get out of this bed and kick your ass.”

Sidney stared at her for a few moments before the corner of her mouth twitched up into the smallest smile. “No offense, Tate, but I'm pretty sure you can't actually do that.”

“Wanna bet?” Tatum gestured down at her body with her left hand, not trusting her right. “This is nothing. Just some flesh wounds. They won't keep me from going all Jackie Chan on your tiny little ass.”

“My ass is not tiny!”

“Is too!” She forced herself to scoot to the right, biting her lip again when fire blossomed inside her. She patted the empty space to her left. “Now get up here and give me a goddamn hug or something.”

“I don't think I'm allowed to get on the bed with you, Tate. Nurse Ratched will probably literally kill me.”

Tatum shook her head. “She'll have to go through me, first.”

Sidney looked at her, then let her eyes drop down to the bandages visible on her shoulder. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't.” Tatum nodded towards the IV taped to her hand. “They've got me on the good stuff. I won't feel a thing.”

“Is that why you've been wincing every time you so much as blink?”

(welp)

She glared at her and tried to pretend like she hadn't been caught. “Sidney, don't make me play the “I've been brutally stabbed” guilt-trip card, because I will play it if I have to.”

Guilt washed over Sidney's face and Tatum instantly regretted her words. But before she could take them back and laugh it off as a joke, Sidney was rising from her chair and walking around to the left side of the bed.

“If I actually hurt you, will you please tell me?” she asked, and Tatum forced a smile back onto her face and made a half-hearted crossing motion over her chest.

“Cross my heart.”

Sidney rolled her eyes but sat on the side of the bed so she could gently swing her legs up onto it. Even with the care she took, the motion jostled Tatum enough to send another stab of pain through her stomach. The smile didn't disappear from her face, though, because she couldn't risk the chance of Sidney leaving.

Hell, if she had her way, Sidney wouldn't ever leave her side again.

“Is this okay?” Sidney asked, rolling onto her right side so that she could face Tatum better. Tatum took in the sight of her face, of the guilt in her gaze and the worry etched across her forehead, and she felt that all-too-familiar lump form in her throat.

“Uh huh,” she said thickly. “Sid?”

“Yeah?"

“Can you ...can you please hold me?”

Sidney's eyes grew wide for just a moment, and in that moment, Tatum feared that she had done something wrong; something that would make Sidney up and leave, and she held her breath while she waited to see what she would do. Then, Sidney's expression softened and she moved closer to Tatum so that she could gently rest one arm over her side. Tatum noted the careful way she avoided the bandages on her stomach, her hand resting safely on the ribs beneath her heart. She wished that she could turn onto her side; wished that she could have Sidney truly hold her instead of just touching her while she lay on her back, but for the time being, it was enough.

She felt Sidney rest her chin against her shoulder and she let out the breath she forgot she had been holding as the fingers of Sidney's other hand gently combed through her hair.

“I've got you,” Sidney whispered, and Tatum couldn't choke back the sob that rose in her throat. Her vision grew blurry as the hand on her stomach shifted slightly, fingers pressing just a little harder- not uncomfortably so, but almost possessively- and then Tatum felt the collar of her hospital gown grow damp and she realized Sidney was crying too.

“I thought I lost you,” Tatum heard her whisper, and she felt her chest tighten again at the devastation she heard in Sidney's voice. “God, Tatum, I thought you were....I thought....”

Her words trailed off and Tatum felt her shift even closer as a sob wracked through her. Tatum gave up trying to hold in her own tears- not that she had been all that successful at keeping them at bay, anyway- and as Sidney held her, let herself fall to pieces.

(I'm alive, I'm alive, she's alive)

The next few weeks were hell.

Tatum got used to the pain pretty quickly. It was hard not to get used to it when it was all she felt day in and day out. What she didn't get used to, and what drove her increasingly batshit as the days marched on, was just how badly her wounds itched. The doctors and nurses kept insisting it was all part of the healing process, that it showed that she was healing, but she was pretty sure that they were just full of shit.

“Can't you do anything to make it stop?” she asked Nurse Ratched one evening, and the nurse just rolled her eyes.

“No. And if I catch you trying to scratch it again, I'll tie your arms down.”

A hollow threat, probably, but Tatum wasn't about to take that chance.

The other thing that she couldn't quite get used to was Sidney.

She wasn't sure what she had expected her best friend to do after that first day that she had been awake, but she hadn't expected her to be a constant companion during her convalescence. Tatum was pretty sure that if it weren't for the fact that visiting hours prevented it, Sidney would have pitched a cot in her room.

“Don't you have to be at school?” she asked one day, and Sidney shrugged.

“Turns out that after you go through a certain amount of trauma, teachers just kinda take pity on you. I'm pretty sure I could skip out the rest of the year and still pass with flying colors at this point.” She paused and bit her lip. “Besides, nothing at school is really organized right now, what with Principal Himbry's absence and all.”

Tatum gave her a confused look. “What do you mean? Where's Himbry?”

Sidney looked at her sharply before her expression grew understanding. “Tate, how much....how much has anyone actually told you about the night of the party?”

Tatum sat up a little straighter, grimacing as the motion pulled tightly at her stitches. “Apparently not all that much....Sid, where the hell is Himbry?”

Sidney bit her lip again and glanced down towards the floor. “He's dead.”

A wave of nausea washed over her and she had to close her eyes in order to reorient herself.

(I'm going to gut her next, I'm going to-)

“Which one of them did it?” she asked a few seconds later through gritted teeth.

“Billy, I'm pretty sure. Stu would have been...” A pause, and Tatum forced herself to open her eyes again. She saw Sidney looking at her with a mixture of caution and guilt on her face.

“Would have been what, Sid?”

Sidney swallowed and shook her head. “Right, sorry. He would have been too busy setting up the party. They think Himbry was killed a few hours after school let out.”

There was more there that she wasn't telling her, but Sidney's face was pale and Tatum was worried that pushing the issue would just make her clam up completely. So instead, she reached behind her for her pillow and tried to set it so that she could sit more comfortably while also trying to think of a question she could ask that might actually get a straight answer.

“Here, I can get that,” Sidney said, already moving forward and reaching for the pillow, but Tatum shook her head and knocked her hand away.

“I got it.” She pushed it behind her back, using her left hand to try and manipulate it into a better position. She couldn't quite get it, but she wasn't about to let Sidney know that. It had already been over a week that she had been stuck in that bed and she was tired of not being able to do a damn thing for herself.

“Tatum,” Sidney said, and she looked up to see her looking at her with an expression that wasn't quite pity.

“What,” she replied. Her tone was more irritated than she meant it to be, but the damn pillow wouldn't sit right and her shoulder hurt and every time she breathed her fucking side burned and-

“I'm not going to think less of you just because you need some help getting comfortable,” Sidney said. She waited a few seconds before leaning forward again to gently take the pillow from Tatum's grasp. “Where would you like it?”

Tatum grit her teeth and tried to swallow her pride. “Just...just behind me so that I can lean back on it.”

“Want it so that it's mostly on your right?”

She nodded and leaned forward enough for Sidney to situate the pillow behind her. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Sidney sat back down in the chair next to her bed, and an almost-uncomfortable silence fell between them.

Two minutes. Three. Tatum watched them tick by, the minute hand of the obnoxiously-loud clock that hung next to the TV sweeping across its face.

“I hate this,” Tatum finally said. Sidney's eyes darted towards her, but she didn't move.

“What?”

“I said, I hate this.”

“Hate what, Tate?”

She started to lift her arm to gesture widely in front of her, but the motion sent another stab through her and she swore. “Fucking this! Being in pain and being unable to even put my own damn clothing on because it fucking hurts and being angry and not knowing a fucking thing about what actually happened that night because no one will tell me and I just really, really fucking hate everything about all of this, okay?”

“Tate, I-”

“And all I want is to be at school right now, sitting in Mrs. Parker's fucking calculus class, hearing her drone on and on about fucking equations or some shit, but instead I'm stuck here, in this bed, hoping that someday I'll be able to take a fucking shit by myself without the whole nursing army needing to know about it. I hate this.”

She didn't see Sidney rise to her feet, but she felt the bed shift when she sat down on the edge of it. Felt the gentle hand on her face, a thumb brushing away the tears that she didn't realize she had started crying.

“I know,” Sidney said quietly. Her thumb moved over to Tatum's other cheek, brushing away the tears that had fallen there. “I know.”

Tatum tried to think of something else to say; an apology, or an excuse, or something, but she couldn't think of a single thing. Not when Sidney's hand was warm on her face and not when Sidney's eyes were shining with tears that Tatum desperately didn't want to fall.

By some stroke of luck (or maybe just an increasingly impatient hospital staff), both of the Riley siblings were discharged from Woodsboro General on the same day, two weeks later. Their mom pushed Dewey's wheelchair through the halls while Sidney pushed Tatum's. Tatum had heard that Gale Weathers had wanted to be there when Dewey got discharged, but she guessed something came up because she was nowhere to be found. Either that, or someone told her to keep away for the time being.

Good riddance.

“Do you want to ride home with me, or would you rather your mom take you?” she heard Sidney ask, her voice just barely able to be heard over the squeaking of the wheelchair's wheels.

Tatum turned her head, wincing as the motion pulled at the stitches in her shoulder. “My mom didn't drive you here?”

Sidney shook her head.

“But you don't have a car.”

“I drove the Bug.”

Tatum's eyebrows shot up. “You drove my car?”

Sidney rolled her eyes and pushed Tatum forward a little faster. “Don't worry, she's fine. Not a dent in her.”

“Oh it wasn't her I was worried about. The Bug can take care of herself.” Tatum turned back around, facing forward just in time to see the exit coming up in front of them. “I just was concerned about you. After all, she's a lot to handle.”

“She's a Volkswagen, Tate, not a sports car.” Sidney reached out and pressed the button for the automatic door and waited for it to open before speaking again. “Besides, you're a lot to handle too, but I handle you just fine.”

“I am not a lot to handle!”

Sidney pushed her through the open door, being careful to not jostle her too much. “Says the person in a wheelchair.”

“Oh come on, that's not my fault!”

“Maybe not, but my point still stands.”

Tatum went to cross her arms, remembering too late that that was a bad idea, and bit her lip hard to prevent herself from crying out as the movement pulled at her wounds. The stitches had come out a few days earlier, but she still felt like every motion was going to tear her flesh apart again; that one false move would send her blood spilling out onto the floor again.

“You okay?” She heard Sidney ask, and she forced a grin onto her face.

“Just peachy.”

The wheelchair came to a stop, and Sidney stepped in front of her, kneeling down so that Tatum could see her better. There was a concern in her eyes that Tatum both appreciated and loathed; a concern that she really wished would just go away because she was growing tired of seeing it in her best friend's gaze.

“You don't have to pretend to be strong for me, you know,” Sidney said quietly.

Tatum felt her chest tighten, the ache distracting from the pain radiating throughout the rest of her body. Sidney's gaze never wavered, and it was all she could do to not look away.

(I'm going to gut her next, I'm going to gut her gut her gut her)

“I'm fine, babe,” she heard herself say over the static in her ears. “Just moved the wrong way.”

The concern in Sidney's eyes didn't waver, but after a moment, it was joined by a reluctant acceptance. She reached out and laid a hand on Tatum's thigh, squeezing it gently. Tatum tried to focus on the warmth of her hand through the denim, grounding herself in that feeling rather than the memory of her skin against the cold cement of the Macher's garage.

“Alright,” Sidney said. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“I know, babe,” Tatum said, her voice sounding strained to her own ears. “I know.”

Sidney's lips turned up in a sad smile before she straightened up and moved behind Tatum again. “Let's get you home, yeah?”

The ache in Tatum's chest turned into a vise, but she nodded and grinned wider. “Yeah. Take me home.”

(She ignored the fact that she was pretty sure that she wasn't going to feel safe there, either)

Chapter Text

Being stabbed sucked.

Being stuck in a hospital because she had been stabbed sucked.

Recovering at home after being stabbed and after spending three weeks in the hospital also sucked.

Tatum was getting tired of her life sucking, if she was being honest.

She spent the first few days at home trying to “get back in the swing of things.” That's what her mom kept saying, at least. “We just have to get you back in the swing of things, and you'll be right as rain!” It was getting old, hearing it day in and day out, especially because her mom only ever seemed to say it after something went wrong. Oh, Tatum dropped a plate because she couldn't close her fingers quite right? Just got to get back in the swing of things! Tatum needs help putting on her shirt because she can't lift her arm above her head? Just got to get back in the swing of things! Tatum can't bend over to tie her shoes because she might tear open the still-healing flesh that was keeping her guts nice and tidy inside of her body? Just got to get back in the swing of things!

She was about ready to suggest a place where she could swing, but she figured her mom wouldn't appreciate some light suicidal humor.

She went back to school after a week at home. She wasn't really sure why she was bothering, honestly- she was almost a month behind at that point, and it wasn't like she had worked on any of the piles of work that had been waiting for her when she got home. No one told her she had to go back, either- her parents had told her that she could stay home as long as she wanted, basically, and it seemed as if the school was in agreement. But she was tired of doing nothing; of sitting on the couch waiting for Sidney to show up and drive her to her physical therapy appointments, or to show up and watch the end of the soaps with her. She needed to get back out there, and school seemed to be the most obvious place to start.

She expected the gawking and the stares and the barely-hushed murmuring of the student body when she walked into the school. Sidney had warned her that it would happen; apparently they had done the same to her when she had returned, too. And that was fine. She was Tatum Riley, she was used to being stared at.

What she wasn't expecting was the wave of panic that crashed over her when she saw her locker.

(A thud of a body hitting the locker next to hers, “Hey, baby”, Stu? Stu, God, Stu-)

“Tate?” she heard Sidney say from next to her. A hand on her elbow, her good elbow, lightly gripping, and she knew it was Sidney, knew it was just Sidney but it wasn't, it was Stu, and Stu hurt Dewey, hurt everyone, and everything was so loud, rushing in her ears, and-

“Would you assholes stop staring and fucking move?” she thought she heard Sidney say, but she didn't understand, couldn't figure out why she'd be saying that, but then she was moving, moving through a throng of people that she couldn't see, and that hand was still on her elbow, pulling her and pulling her.

She thought she heard the sound of a door opening, but it wasn't until the scent of industrial cleaner and pink soap flooded her nose that she realized that she had somehow ended up in the bathroom. She blinked, her vision slowly coming back into focus despite the fuzziness around the edges.

“Tate, honey, can you hear me?”

She felt a warm hand cupping her face and she found herself leaning into it, her eyes closing again despite herself. She nodded.

“Are you hurt? Did one of those guys hurt you, or knock into you, or...?”

She shook her head quickly, urgently, and she heard Sidney breathe a sigh of relief.

“Then what's wrong?”

(“Don't I get to see you for a few seconds?”)

Tatum squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, Stu's voice ringing in her ears. “I can't be here,” she whispered a moment later, trying to focus on the warmth of Sidney's hand.

“You want to leave?”

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat and tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. “Please.”

“Okay.”

Tatum felt Sidney's hand fall from her face and she almost cried from its absence. All she wanted was to reach for her, to beg for her to not stop touching her, to never stop touching her, but she didn't. Couldn't.

Instead, she opened her eyes and ignored the tightness in her chest as Sidney opened the door again.

“Let's get you home.”

She didn't go back to school again.

Her teachers would pop in every couple of days after that, dropping off stacks of books and work for her to muddle through and offering assistance where they could. She knew that they didn't want to be there any more than she wanted them to be, but she supposed she was thankful that they bothered.

None of them ever asked her how she was doing, though. It was like they were afraid to utter the words into existence; afraid to acknowledge that the girl they were making special home visits to was anything other than perfectly normal.

She wondered which they were more afraid of: acknowledging the atrocities that her fellow students- her friends- had committed, or acknowledging that she had lost her goddamn mind because of it. She couldn't blame them, either way, especially if it was the latter, because everyone seemed to want to ignore that part. Her parents offered to get her a therapist, but after she emphatically refused, they didn't bring it up again. All they did was look at her with that same fucking sad look that her teachers gave her- that everyone gave her. The only person who didn't give her that look was Dewey, and she was pretty sure that was only because he was dealing with his own shit, his own agonies and trauma.

(God, if she had to hear the word trauma again she was going to scream)

The only other person who didn't look at her like that was Sidney. There was still a look in Sidney's gaze that Tatum couldn't quite figure out, but it wasn't sad.

At times, she thought that maybe it was anger. 

Even though Sidney seemed to be an almost-constant presence at the Riley household, she didn't sleep over there again until Tatum had been home for a few months. Every time that Tatum had started to ask if she wanted to stay the night, she hadn't been able to get more than a few words into the question before Sidney claimed that her dad wanted her home; that he was being a little over-protective ever since the party.

The party. That's what everyone seemed to call it, and it drove Tatum fucking insane. The term didn't come close to touching what that night was, didn't come close to representing the horrors that had occurred there, but no one really seemed to care what she thought about it, and so she just shut her mouth and nodded at Sidney and watched her drive off every night with a lump in her throat and a mind spilling over with images of crimson.

She supposed Sid's dad really was being a little more over-protective, but she also knew better. She didn't know why Sidney didn't want to stay the night, but she knew that it was her choice, and her choice alone.

At first, she didn't mind all that much. The drugs the docs had her on were pretty strong, and she fell asleep most nights well before the standard allowable for a proper sleepover, anyway. The nights that she didn't fall asleep right away, though, she found herself desperate for Sidney; for that comforting presence that would distract her from the looming shadows in the corners and the faces she kept seeing every time she closed her eyes.

After two weeks, she had switched the bed she slept in. The two twins were the same, she knew that deep down, but the one closest to the window had always been Sidney's bed. Even when Stu had tried to pull her down onto it, not caring which they ended up in as long as they ended up in a bed at all, she had refused.

It used to drive him nuts. But when she woke up with a scream on her lips and the ghost of his arms around her, she had scrambled over to the empty bed and hugged Sidney's pillow to her chest until the fear dissipated enough for her to slip back into an uneasy sleep.

She hadn't touched her bed since. So when she finally got Sidney to agree to sleep over, finally got her to want to spend the night, she found herself having to bite her tongue to stop herself from screaming when Sidney automatically tossed her bag onto the bed that Tatum had grown used to sleeping in.

She must not have done a good enough job keeping her expression from reflecting the scream in her lungs, though, because when Sidney turned back around and looked at her, her brow immediately furrowed with concern.

“Tate? What's wrong?”

“I-” The edges of her vision were turning fuzzy, a roaring in her ears that was quickly turning deafening.

Sidney stepped towards her, a hand rising to gently cup the side of her face. “Tatum?”

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of the warmth on her cheek, of the scent of the rose hips shampoo that Sidney had been using since freshman year. “I'm okay,” she whispered, surprised that she was able to form the words. Her hand came up to cover Sidney's, and she opened her eyes slowly. “Sorry. I just...” Her words trailed off and she exhaled shakily.

Sidney looked at her for another long moment before her eyes fell on the bed behind Tatum, her brow creasing thoughtfully. She didn't let her hand drop, but she turned her head to look at the bed she had thrown her bag onto, letting out a small, knowing sound as she turned back to Tatum. “You've been sleeping in my bed.”

It wasn't a question, but Tatum nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

Sidney's thumb stroked her cheek absently, and Tatum felt herself leaning into her touch, the knot in her stomach loosening even as the all-too-familiar fear- fear of what, she wasn't completely sure, but she was fairly sure it wasn't the same fear that had sparked Sidney's concern in the first place- tightened its grip around her heart.

“Nightmares?”

Tatum shrugged. “Ghosts.”

She expected Sidney to question her, expected her to look surprised, but instead, she just nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

“You do?”

Sidney nodded again, her thumb still stroking gently. “I had to have my dad go out and buy an entirely new set of sheets and like, a comforter and stuff.” She frowned, then, and let her hand drop, causing Tatum's hand to fall back to her side as well. “I've redone my entire room, actually. Posters and all.”

Tatum found herself immediately missing Sidney's touch, but “No more Indigo Girls?”

Sidney shook her head. “No more anything.” She stepped back and reached for the strap of her bag. “Here, I'll take your old bed, okay?”

“No,” Tatum said, her hand reaching to wrap around Sidney's wrist, stopping her. “Stay.”

“Tate, it's-”

“This has always been your bed.”

Sidney's gaze fell to her wrist where Tatum's hand still wrapped tightly around her. She was quiet for a long moment before she looked back up at Tatum, her eyes soft. “Okay. Then we'll share it.”

Tatum felt a flash of confusion-of relief-, run through her. “What?”

“It's not like we haven't shared a bed before, Tate,” Sidney said with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. She set her other hand on top of Tatum's, not trying to get her to let go but merely resting it there. Tatum wondered if it was meant to be a comfort. “There's no reason we can't tonight, right?”

She glanced down at the hand on top of hers, wanting to move her own hand so that she could interlace their fingers together, but instead forced her eyes away so that her gaze could meet Sidney's own. She forced a smile onto her face. “Yeah, of course.”

“Then it's settled.”

Tatum glanced down at their hands again, her fingers twitching just ever so slightly beneath Sidney's own. “Sid, are you-”

Her words trailed off when Sidney let go of the bag, the strap slipping from her fingers as she let her wrist slip through the loose grasp Tatum still held her in. Her fingers slotted between the gaps in Tatum's fingers like they were meant to be there, and she squeezed gently, ever-so-gently, as her other hand remained on top of Tatum's, enveloping her hand from both sides.

“Tate?” Sidney said, and Tatum forced her eyes up from their clasped hands so that she could look back at Sidney's gaze; a gaze in which she was relieved to find still lacked the pity she saw in everyone else's eyes.

“Yeah?”

She felt Sidney's hand squeeze a little tighter. “I'm sure.”

Tatum tried not to focus on how warm she was; on how warm her hand was becoming, or how that warmth was spreading through her body, or how she was sure that that warmth would reach her cheeks soon. Instead, she nodded, and squeezed back.

“Okay.”

She should have realized that something was up when Sidney didn't make a joke about Tom Cruise's ass after they watched Top Gun. Looking back, she supposed that she did realize that something was up; it wasn't like she hadn't noticed how quiet Sidney had gotten, but....well, they both had fallen into a habit of being quiet those days.

And she didn't want to call attention to it, especially since it had taken this long for Sid to even agree to spending the night, and she didn't want to ruin anything, and so she sat there quietly and made the joke about Tom's ass for the both of them, and tried to make it seem genuine when she smiled at Sidney's half-hearted attempt at laughter and she hoped that it was just her being overly sensitive and paranoid.

But when that silence continued on through the rest of the movie and into the next, she realized that she couldn't just keep ignoring it.

She clicked the pause button on the remote, watching the picture on the screen jump as the tape stopped and skipped over the same scene of Richard Gere over and over again, and turned to Sidney. “Sid?”

“Hmm?” Sidney's eyes didn't leave the screen, but Tatum was pretty sure she wasn't actually seeing anything on it. She thought about waving her hand in front of her face, but she didn't want to scare her. Instead, she reached out a tentative hand and rested it on Sidney's shoulder, waiting for her to finally turn towards her before she let it drop back down onto the bed.

“You're kinda zoned out.”

“Oh.” Sidney glanced at the TV again, her expression unchanging as she blinked at the softly jumping image on the screen. She shook her head and looked back at Tatum. “Sorry.”

“It's alright...just...what's up?”

Sidney shrugged a little. “Nothing really. Just got lost in my thoughts.”

“Care to share?”

Sidney shrugged again. “They're not exactly “sleepover material” kind of thoughts, Tate.”

Tatum sat up a little more, resting most of her weight on her elbow. “Sid, over the course of all the sleepovers we've had, we've talked about everything from what the best outfits would be for our Barbies to wear to whether or not there is a God. I'm pretty sure that there isn't a set kind of “sleepover material” topics of discussion.”

Sidney let out a little laugh, but it didn't reach her eyes. “You know, I'm still not sure about the whole “God” thing.”

(darkness and beeping and eternity and-)

Tatum shook her head a little, blinking away the flashes of memory before they could fully form. “No? Still questioning the big man in the sky?”

“Wouldn't you be, after everything?”

(Pain and pain and pain and light and)

Tatum closed her eyes for a moment as she became suddenly all-too-aware of the tightness of the skin right above her stomach, of the muted throbbing of the blood flowing there, of the-

“Tate?”

She shook her head and opened her eyes, pushing herself into a seated position so that the pressure would be taken off of her side. “I don't know. I guess so, all things considered.”

Sidney looked at her for a long moment, her expression betraying her concern. “Are you-”

“I'm alright,” Tatum said, cutting her off before she could finish her question. She crossed her legs and tried to ignore the twinges of pain coming from everywhere and nowhere. “But you're deflecting.”

Sidney let out a heavy sigh, slumping forward and resting her chin in her hand. “You know, most people have just been letting me do that without giving me a hassle.”

“Yeah, well, most people don't know you the way I do.” Tatum gestured towards her, waving her on. “So come on. What's on your mind, babe?”

Sidney glared at her for a moment, but she could tell that it wasn't genuine; if it was, Sid's eyes would have been like steel. Tatum held her gaze until Sidney sighed again and looked away. “That's kind of a silly question, isn't it?”

“How so?”

“Because I'm sure you could guess what's on my mind, couldn't you?”

Tatum started to shake her head, but stopped herself because of course she could. “Billy.”

It wasn't a question, but Sidney nodded anyway. “Yeah. What else could be on my mind, you know?” She sat up a little straighter and looked at the TV screen again, the jumping image of Richard Gere reflecting in her eyes. “Billy fucking Loomis.”

(I'm going to gut her next I'm going to gut her next I'm going to gut her next I'm going to)

Tatum wrapped her arms around herself, her hands gripping her elbows tight, so tight that she could feel her nails piercing her skin. Sidney, thankfully, didn't seem to notice.

“I just...ugh.” Sidney leaned back and ran a hand through her hair. “I just wish someone had told me that he was fucking evil. Like, there had to be signs, right? How the hell did I miss them?” She shook her head and gestured vaguely. “How did we miss them?”

(bitter and uneasy and hate god how she loathed that stupid-)

Tatum felt the color drain from her cheeks and she tried to turn away so that Sidney wouldn't be able to see the guilt that she knew was written across her face.

“Tatum?” Sidney said. “Tatum, what's wrong?”

(Fuck)

“I'm sorry,” Tatum whispered. “Sidney, I'm so, so fucking sorry.”

“What?” Sidney asked, and Tatum felt her shift closer so that their knees were practically touching. “Tatum, why are you sorry?”

Tatum leaned forward and let go of her elbows so that she could hold her head in her hands instead. “Because I should have told you that I fucking hated him.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then Tatum felt the mattress shift beneath her again as Sidney moved away from her. She waited for Sidney to say something, anything, and when she didn't, she lifted her head, taking a hesitant glance towards her.

Sidney stared at her, her expression blank. “You hated Billy?”

She nodded slowly, shifting her position so that she could cross her arms around her knees and hug them as close to her chest as she could. “With every fiber of my being.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You were happy,” she replied simply. “When things were good, you looked at him like there were stars flying out of his ass that were making constellations only you could see. You were happy, and I wasn't going to take that away from you.”

“He killed my Mom!”

“And so did Stu, so I guess we both just had absolute shit taste in men, huh?”

The words were out of her mouth before she could call them back, and she saw the look of surprise on Sidney's face as they registered.

“Shit, Sid, I-”

Sidney held up her hand and shook her head. Tatum fell silent and hugged her knees tighter.

(Don't leave, don't leave, don't leave)

The silence grew thick around them, broken only by their breathing and the rush of blood in Tatum's ears. Her chest was tight with shame, her heart beating so hard that she was sure that it was going to break her ribs if it kept it up, but she couldn't look away from Sidney completely because if she did she was sure that she would never be permitted to look at her best friend again. So she kept her gaze as steady as she could, focusing on a small piece of lint on the shoulder of Sidney's shirt rather than on her face, and tried to choke down the tears that threatened to start streaming from her eyes and waited and waited for Sidney to say something, anything.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into centuries. Tatum held her knees and counted her breaths and then-

“I hated Stu, too.”

Tatum's head snapped up, her eyes darting to Sidney's face for just a brief moment before she averted them again. “What?”

She heard Sidney take a breath and then let it out. “I said I hated Stu, too.” A noise almost like a laugh, but there was too much disgust behind it for it to ever come close to humorous. “He was never right for you. He always looked at you like you were a piece of meat that he couldn't wait to chew up and spit out, and I fucking hated that.”

“Then why didn't you-”

“Because he made you happy.” Sidney laughed again, with a little less disgust. “Because he made you happy, and because we're both apparently fucking stupid.”

Tatum's eyes finally lifted up to meet Sidney's gaze. “That's not true.”

Sidney's brow arched incredulously. “We both were dating serial killers and didn't know it.”

“Lots of people do that.”

Her second brow rose to match the first. “Seriously, Tate?”

Tatum shrugged. “Ted Bundy had a girlfriend.”

“That's....ugh.” Sidney shook her head and moved so that she was lying on her back, hands over her face. “That's so not the point, Tatum.”

“Isn't it, though?”

“No!” Sidney let her hands slide up into her hair instead, gripping it at the roots for a moment before letting it fall loosely around her fingers. “The point is that we had the chance to tell each other and we didn't and now so many people are dead and Dewey got hurt and you got hurt and it's all-”

(should've known better should've known better should've should've should-)

“Please don't say that it's all our fault,” Tatum interrupted, her voice a surprise to her own ears. She saw Sidney look up at her but she didn't look back down; couldn't look down at her. She swallowed. “Please don't.”

She tracked Sidney's movements out of the corner of her eye, watching as she slowly nodded. “Alright.”

(Not Sid Not Sidney Anyone but Her)

Tatum closed her eyes for a moment, trying to tamp down the memories that kept threatening to overwhelm her. She opened her eyes a second later, biting her lip. “It wasn't just because he made you happy.”

Sidney glanced up at her, her expression almost blank, but there was the slight lifting of a brow that betrayed her curiousity. “Oh?”

Tatum shook her head slowly

(Don't say it)

and bit her lip a little harder.

(Don't say it)

“No.” She turned her head away just enough so that she wouldn't have to look at Sidney's face. “It wasn't.”

“Then what was it?”

(Don't)

“I wasn't sure that if I told you....well.” She took a breath and tried to hold it for as long as she could before she let it out shakily. “I wasn't sure which one of us you would have chosen. And I was too fucking scared to find out.”

She waited for Sidney to reply; waited with her heart hammering in her chest, but Sidney didn't speak. Finally, she glanced over to find Sidney looking at her- no, that wasn't right. It was more like Sidney was looking through her; looking at something just beyond her that she couldn't see.

“Sid?”

Sidney shook her head and let her gaze drop back down; still not meeting Tatum's eyes. “He was always jealous of you, you know.”

Tatum's eyebrows shot up. “Billy?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Sidney finally looked up at her, an almost bemused expression crossing her face. “You can't tell me that Stu was never jealous of me?”

Tatum began to shake her head, then stopped.

(you spent all night with her, don't I get to see you for a few seconds? Don't I don't I don't I)

“Okay, yeah. Maybe. But...”

“There isn't a but, Tate.” Sidney looked at her fully, her eyes not leaving Tatum's. “Billy knew I'd choose you. Losing you would have hurt worse than anything else. Why the fuck do you think he went after you first?”

(knife twisting blood seeping oh god Sidney sidney sidney)

Tatum closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as she tried to calm her suddenly-racing heart.

“Tate?”

She felt Sidney's hand on her knee and she then her arm. Sidney's hand was warm, so warm, and familiar and she let her arms fall away from their clasp on her knees and fell back, her eyes finally opening and training on the ceiling. Sidney's hand followed her descent down, fingers resting on the hollow of her wrist.

“Sorry,” she found herself saying, though she wasn't completely sure why. “Sometimes I get a little weird about the whole “almost dying” thing.”

Sidney's index finger traced the vein in her wrist, moving down slowly. “Probably because you'd have to be psychotic in order to not be a little weird about it.”

“Yeah, you're probably right.”

Fingertips moving down a little further, brushing the top of puckered skin, pausing for a few seconds before continuing to gently trace down. Tatum fought the urge to glance down, wanting to know what expression was written across Sidney's face but too scared to know; praying that that fear wasn't written across her face and trying to ignore how Sidney's touch was causing her arms to erupt in goosebumps and-

“Does it hurt?”

Tatum blinked, then shook her head a little. “Not that one. Not really.”

She heard Sidney hum softly in reply, but that was all. Her finger moved up and down her scar slowly; so slowly that she questioned if she was being touched at all.

“Did you ever suspect him?”

Sidney's voice was calm; almost too calm, but Tatum could still hear the edge behind it; knew that if she looked down now, there would be a glint of steel behind her eyes.

“Which one?”

She felt Sidney's finger stop tracing for a moment, the pressure of her touch softening for a brief moment in a way that made her wonder if Sidney shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Tatum shifted a little, sitting up the slightest bit, but not enough for her to properly see Sidney's face. “I don't know. Does it?”

There was another pause before Sidney's finger began moving again. “I honestly don't know.”

“I....fuck.” Tatum dropped her head back down again and closed her eyes tight for a moment before she looked back at the ceiling. “I didn't suspect him. Stu, I mean.” She bit her lip, trying to focus on her heartbeat rather than the memories threatening to flood in. “Not really, at least. He really was with me the night that Casey and Steve...well.”

“I didn't think you were lying about that,” Sidney said quickly- almost too quickly. Tatum shook her head again.

“I know.” She closed her eyes once more, leaving them closed this time. “I know. But I've gone over it time and time again, and even though I'd like to say that I'd think differently, question things a bit more....I don't know. I guess I just didn't anticipate my boyfriend being a fucking psychopath. Maybe I should have, maybe I should have known, but I didn't, and I'm sorry, Sid.” She felt the familiar burn of a few errant tears streaking down her cheeks and gave up pretending that she could hold it together any longer, her voice breaking as she continued. “I'm so fucking sorry. I'm just so sorry.”

She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball; or, rather, as close to one as she could make without tugging the scar stitched into her stomach. The motion pulled her arm away from Sidney's touch and she was almost thankful for it because if she had to think about the goosebumps or the fluttering in her chest that Sidney's fingers had sparked any more, she was pretty sure that she was going to crumble.

“Tate, it's...” Sidney's voice trailed off, and Tatum wondered if she had been going to say that it wasn't her fault, or if she was going to say that it was okay. Both would have been lies.

“It's what?” she asked, not meaning to sound as accusatory as she knew she did. The tears were free-flowing now, but she still refused to open her eyes.

The mattress shifted beneath her as Sidney moved closer. She felt it dip even further as Sidney laid next to her, her body pressing gently against her back as her arm slipped around her. She froze, every muscle in her body fighting between the urge to tense up and the urge to just let herself sink back into Sidney's embrace.

Sidney's chin rested between her shoulder blades for a moment before rising a few inches to the left, settling against Tatum's shoulder. “I killed them both, Tatum,” she said, the words muffled a little by Tatum's shirt. Tatum still heard them loud and clear, though she was sure she had misheard because-

“I killed them both,” Sidney repeated, a little louder this time. Tatum felt her shift, readjusting into a more comfortable position before she continued. “I killed Stu first, though I guess Billy had already done most of the job for me. I don't know if anyone told you about how they stabbed each other a bunch? You know, to make it look like they were the victims instead of the killers? Anyway, Stu was bleeding pretty bad, but he still came after me, and so I pushed a TV onto his fucking head.”

Sidney's voice was calm as she spoke, but Tatum could feel how the arm around her had tensed; how she was being held a little tighter. It was almost enough to distract her from the words being spoken.

Almost.

“Billy was next. He was a lot harder to kill. Just kept coming back for more.” Sidney paused, her hand flexing against Tatum's stomach almost protectively, her fingers brushing over where the knife had twisted into her. Tatum wondered if she knew.

Tatum wondered if she knew a lot of things.

“Gale shot him the first time, and we all thought it was over, then. But then he popped up again, and I put a bullet between his eyes. He didn't get up again after that.”

“Sid...”

Sidney ignored her. “It wasn't until after everything was over that I realized that you had disappeared. I don't know what I thought- maybe that you had left to go get party supplies or more beer or something but I just...I didn't think you were still at the house. And then I found you.”

Tatum heard her voice break at the same time she felt the shudder course through her body, the tremble shaking Tatum, too.

“I found you in the garage and there was so much blood and you were so pale and cold and you were dead, Tatum, you were gone.”

(bright so bright and nothing and nothing and nothing)

Tatum tried to swallow past the lump in her throat but found it to be just as impossible as ignoring the truth that she had spent the past few months trying not to question.

“I died?” she whispered, and she felt Sidney nod almost frantically against her shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Sidney whispered back, her arm tightening even more around her. “I...they all told me not to tell you, that it would be too much to handle, but I can't...I can't. Tatum, I-”

(and nothing and nothing and nothing and)

The back of her shirt was beginning to stick to her skin and she knew it was from Sidney's tears but for a moment it made her think of the blood, of how wet it was as it poured out of her.

(and nothing and nothing and)

“I died,” she whispered again, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. “Oh.” She became acutely aware of the three scars, the fire burning beneath each of the twisted lines, and couldn't help the strangled chuckle that ripped itself free from her throat. “Oh.”

“I'm so sorry,” Sidney said, fingers curling into the front of Tatum's shirt as she held on tighter, like she was terrified to let go. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

The rush of blood in her ears almost drowned out Sidney's words, but she managed to shake her head before she turned around in her arms; a difficult task considering how tightly Sidney clung to her, but then she was looking Sidney in the face and saw the devastation there; the pure, broken, devastation.

“Oh,” she whispered once more before she found herself with her arms wrapped tight around Sidney, her embrace just as tight as the one that her best friend held her in, and she couldn't figure out who was sobbing harder but it didn't matter, nothing mattered.

Neither of them spoke again for a long, long time.

Once the tears had subsided, Tatum had felt the exhaustion begin to creep in; settling deep in her bones and making her eyes heavier and heavier. She caught herself slipping a few times, catching herself on the precipice and scrambling away from it each time.

She was pretty sure Sidney was in the same position, based on the way her eyelids kept drooping every so often, but she didn't ask if she wanted to sleep. She didn't ask anything. All she did was continue holding her close and wait.

What she was waiting for, she wasn't sure. But she would wait as long as she had to if it meant not having to let go of the girl in her arms. As long as Sidney didn't let go of her.

(Eat your heart out, Loomis)

“We need to get out of here.”

Sidney's voice pierced through the static, and Tatum blinked, surprised. “What?”

“We need to get out of here,” Sidney repeated. Tatum's brow furrowed a little.

“Like, out of this room? I guess we could always-”

Sidney shook her head, the motion causing Tatum's body to shake with her. “No. Out of Woodsboro.”

Tatum sat up as much as she was able to in her position, trying not to jostle Sidney too much, but needing to be able to look at her more fully in order to comprehend just what it was she was trying to say. “Out of Woods....Sid, what do you mean, out of Woodsboro? Like, what, just leave?” She said it with a laugh that she knew didn't meet her eyes, letting it trail off when Sidney began to nod. “Oh.”

“You always said that you were going to leave after graduation, remember? Just you and the Bug, and-”

“And you, if you wanted to,” Tatum finished for her. She tilted her head a little and looked at her, brows furrowed again. “Sid, are you asking me to run away with you?”

Sidney started to shrug, but then simply nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Why not, you know? There's nothing for us here. Not anymore.” She glanced away, her embrace loosening just a little. “Not for me, at least.” Her expression darkened as she stared past Tatum. “I can't stand being here. Can't stand the way everyone is always staring at me and whispering and I can't stand the fucking little reminders everywhere of Billy and Stu and all that they destroyed, and I just...I'm done.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking back at Tatum with clear eyes. “I'm done. I'm done with being Sidney Prescott, “Survivor of the Woodsboro Massacre”. I want to be me again, and I can't do that here.”

Tatum looked at her, searching for any hint of doubt and finding none. “Sid, I...”

“Please, Tate?” Sidney's hand reached for hers, fingers interlocking between their chests. Tatum felt her heart thud harder and hoped Sidney couldn't feel it. Hoped she could. “I don't want to leave without you. I can't leave without you.”

Tatum glanced down at their hands before letting her eyes meet Sidney's unwavering gaze again. She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

A small smile pulled at Sidney's lips- a sight so rare that it made Tatum's heart instantly ache in its old, familiar way- and she squeezed Tatum's hand tighter. “Yeah?”

Tatum nodded again, this time with more certainty. “Yeah. I'll run away with you.” She paused for a moment, a smirk tugging the corner of her mouth. “You can even take turns driving the Bug, as long as you promise not to crash her.”

The smile on Sidney's face grew even as she rolled her eyes. “I promise.”

“Then I guess you've got a deal, Prescott.”

“Guess so, Riley,” Sidney replied, settling back down but never dropping her eyes or her hand away. “Guess so.”

They planned to leave on Graduation Day.

Tatum supposed that she should have cared about graduation itself; knew she would have cared under normal circumstances.

But normal circumstances would have meant that graduation would have included all of the students that had walked into the school at the beginning of the year, and, well. That wasn't exactly possible.

Casey Becker wouldn't be there.

Steve Orth wouldn't be there.

Their parents had to settle for funeral dirges on church organs instead of the marching band playing an off-key rendition of Pomp and Circumstance. In the back of her mind, Tatum wondered if they would acknowledge graduation at all; whether they'd go down to the cemetery with their caps and gowns and the flowers that should have been handed to Casey after she came off the stage, or the fancy watch that Steve would have been given before heading off to college. She wondered if they would stay at home instead, looking at pictures of their dead kids with tears in their eyes, the wound fresh all over again with the reminder of the future that they had lost.

She wondered if Billy and Stu's parents would do the same.

(She wondered if she was going insane.)

Her parents spent a few days trying to convince her to go to the ceremony-

(“You're graduating, Tatum! Don't you want to celebrate being finished at last?”)

-but she just shook her head and told them that she was fine waiting for her diploma to arrive in the mail. Or, better yet, just never receiving it at all. It didn't matter to her, either way.

She honestly expected them to give her more of a fight about it, but after some tears from her mom and some disappointed shakes of the head from her dad, they let it go.

They let pretty much anything go, these days. So when she told them a few days later that she was going to be leaving with Sidney, they pretty much let that go, too. All it took was her telling them that if she was ever going to “get back in the swing of things”, then she had to start somewhere new; that Woodsboro hurt too much to be in any longer.

They just made her promise that she would call to check in every day, and she was happy to agree.

Telling her parents that she was leaving was one thing. 

Telling Dewey...well, that was another. 

She wasn't all that surprised when he reacted poorly. She understood, really; if she had been in his shoes, she supposed she would have found the idea of her little sister fucking off into the unknown with her best friend a few months after being horrifically butchered to be a little insane. 

It still hurt, though, when he refused to talk about it any further. She just left him be and hoped that he would come around.

(She wasn't really sure what she would do if he didn't)

So when he showed up the night before graduation, she really didn't know what to expect.

He stood in the open doorway of her room, leaning almost casually against the frame for a moment. She saw the grip he had on the wood, though, and knew that there was nothing casual about his stance; knew that he had purposefully left his cane in his own room so that he wouldn't have to appear broken in front of his baby sister.

She wondered if he knew that she had died. If he knew all along and just didn't let it show.

She supposed it didn't matter, in the end.

“You're really going,” he said, his eyes landing on the open suitcase on her bed, and she nodded. He gave a little nod of his own, then stood a little straighter. Tatum purposefully ignored the wince that crossed his features, not wanting to wound his pride by running to his side like everyone else would have done.

“Sidney too?” he asked, and she nodded again.

“Yeah.”

He made a small noise of approval, then reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a carefully-folded envelope. “I know it isn't much, but I want you to take this, okay?”

Tatum walked over and took the envelope, unfolding it and glancing inside to find several hundred-dollar bills. She tried to hand it back, but Dewey shook his head and dropped his hand back down to his side. “Dewey, this is too much, I can't-”

“You can, and you will,” he said.

“Dew-”

He shook his head again, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, leaning more fully against the door frame. “You're going to need some cash until you and Sid find a place to settle down and get jobs or whatever it is you plan to do. I'd rather know that you two can afford to stay in a hotel room or something until then, rather than sleep in the Bug.” He looked at her, then, a small smile on his lips. “I know you can take care of yourself, but just let your big brother do this much, okay?”

Tatum felt a lump form in her throat as she forced herself to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, Dewey.”

“Good.” He shuffled a little bit, looking uncomfortable, though Tatum wasn't sure if it was because of the pain he was in, or if it was because of the tears forming in both of their eyes. “You take care of yourself, okay?” he said, his voice a little thick. “And make sure that you and Sid...” he paused, smiling knowingly, with just a touch of sadness. “Well, just take care of each other.”

She arched a brow, and tilted her head. “What were you going to say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just that you two are....well, you're best when you're together. I'm glad she's going with you.”

Tatum looked at him a few moments longer, eyebrows furrowed as she tried to parse out whatever it was that he wasn't saying. He kept his expression even, though, and eventually she shrugged, nodding. “Me too.”

She was going to say something else, but then Dewey was wrapping his arms around her and tugging her close and she hugged him back, feeling the lump in her throat return.

“Make sure you call,” he said, and she nodded against his shoulder.

“Make sure you actually listen to your doctor and stay behind the desk for a while,” she replied, and he laughed.

“We'll see.”

She shook her head and hugged him a little closer. She felt him do the same and she couldn't help but let out a shaky breath, tears burning in the corners of her eyes.

“You'll be okay,” Dewey whispered, and she nodded again, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.

“So will you,” she whispered back, squeezing him even tighter. He laughed again, the sound muffled against her hair. And then she felt him press a kiss to the side of her head and she let herself break, knowing that her tears weren't the only ones falling.

“Jesus, Tate, you could have left me a little more room, you know,” Sidney grumbled as she tried to lift her suitcase into the trunk.

Tatum looked up from where she knelt, craning her neck just enough to see Sidney. “It's a Volkswagen, Sid, not a minivan. You're lucky there's room to fit us.”

“Yeah, but still! I mean, seriously, what do you have in here, your entire closet?”

Tatum straightened up carefully, slipping her tire gauge back into the pocket of her shorts. “Yeah, more or less.” Sidney shot her a look, and she shrugged. “What do you want me to do, leave my clothes behind? I kind of need them.”

“Not this many of them,” Sidney grumbled, but there was a small smile on her face that told Tatum that she wasn't actually upset. She finished shoving her suitcase in the trunk and stood back before closing the lid. “Tire pressure good?”

Tatum nodded. “Yeah. And Dewey checked my oil earlier, so we're good to go there, too.”

Sidney walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. “That's it, then?”

Tatum nodded again. “Yeah, I think so.” She opened the driver's side door and gingerly slid inside, turning and glancing into the backseat one last time to make sure that she had thrown her purse back there. “You have your wallet and everything?”

Sidney slid into the passenger seat and closed her door before looking at Tatum and nodding. “Yeah. Wallet, keys, pepper spray, all good.”

Tatum turned to her with an arched brow. “Pepper spray?”

“Don't leave home without it these days,” Sidney replied, her tone light but with an expression on her face that betrayed the lack of a joke. She shook her head after a few seconds, the serious look giving way to a smile that made Tatum's chest ache. “You're good?”

Tatum nodded, a nervous smile of her own tugging at her lips. “All good.”

“Any last goodbyes?”

She shook her head. “Said them already. You?”

Sidney shook her head, too. “My dad left for that conference out in Pasadena this morning, and I caught up with Randy and Dewey earlier, so...nope. No one left to say goodbye to.”

There was a certain sadness in her voice that Tatum couldn't help but pick up on, and she found herself reaching for Sidney's hand before she could stop herself. Sidney glanced down at their hands, her brow lifting in surprise for just a moment before she entwined her fingers with Tatum's, their joined hands resting on her thigh.

Silence fell between them, but Tatum hardly noticed it over the sound of her own heartbeat. It grew louder and louder in her ears as Sidney's thumb stroked absently over the back of her hand, her palm warm against hers.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, hoping that the question wouldn't make Sidney pull away.

She didn't want her to ever pull away.

“Are you having doubts?” Sidney asked, rather than answering, and Tatum quickly shook her head.

“Of course not,” she said, her other hand itching to clasp over the ones on Sidney's thigh.

Sidney nodded thoughtfully, then slipped her hand out of Tatum's grasp.

“Sid, I-”

Her words trailed off when she felt Sidney's finger settle over her lips. Her eyebrows arched high, and she found herself all-too-focused on the sensation of Sidney's touch.

“Shh,” Sidney whispered. She gazed at Tatum's face for a long moment, her expression soft but otherwise unreadable. Her finger slid away a moment later, her hand moving to cup Tatum's face instead. Tatum fought so that she didn't lean into it; tried to deny the warmth against her skin and flooding through her veins, but then Sidney's thumb was brushing against her cheekbone and she realized that Sidney was leaning in, leaning in so close that-

Oh.

Sidney's lips pressed gently against the corner of her mouth, so softly that if Tatum's eyes had been closed she would have been left questioning their presence at all. She pulled back a moment later, the spot where her lips had been burning in their absence.

“I am always going to choose you,” Sidney whispered, her breath hot on Tatum's cheek. Her thumb continued to stroke over her cheekbone, the motion soothing and rhythmic as Tatum tried to process what had just happened.

(She kissed me she kissed me she kissed me?)

“Oh,” she finally whispered back, and then she was leaning fully into Sidney's touch as their lips met. It was soft, softer than she ever would have expected, and as her lips parted ever-so-slightly and she tasted the bubblegum sweetness of Sidney's lips she realized that she had been waiting for this moment for years.

“I'm not losing you again,” Sidney whispered against her a moment later, and Tatum shook her head gently, her hand rising to cover Sidney's.

“Never,” she agreed. She squeezed Sidney's hand gently, still leaning into her palm. “And I'm not losing you, either.”

She felt Sidney smile as she kissed her once more, still just as softly, before finally pulling away.

“We should probably get going,” she said, and Tatum nodded despite her sudden certainty that she would be perfectly happy sitting there and kissing Sidney for the rest of her life. Sidney's hand fell from Tatum's face, but Tatum let her hand follow the movement, their fingers entwining again once they came to rest on Sidney's thigh.

She looked at Sidney for a few seconds, waiting for the moment to come to an end; for the haze to dissipate and for Sidney to change her mind. But it didn't come, and so she reached for the driver's door and closed it, finally letting go of Sidney's hand so that she could fasten her seatbelt and turn the key in the ignition.

She took a deep breath and looked back at Sidney with a smile that she hoped didn't betray the nervousness she felt. “So, where do you want to go?”

Sidney grinned and shrugged. “Wherever the wind takes us, I guess. Just as long as it's far away from here.”

Tatum nodded, and reached down for the gear shift, throwing it into reverse. “Sounds good to me, Babe,” she said, turning her head just enough to see over her shoulder as she backed out of her parents' driveway. She turned back around once she reached the end, shifting the Bug into drive and flashing Sidney another smile. “Sounds real fucking good to me.”

The smile that Sidney gave her in return gave her the final push she needed to press her foot down against the gas, pulling away from her home and off into the safety of the unknown.