But I Can See Your Open Wounds, They're Bleeding Through

She brushed her thumb over Gale’s hand as they watched the two sisters enter the ambulance. The severity of what had just transpired hadn’t hit them yet. Probably wouldn’t for a few days, they knew that from experience. Sidney tried to let herself just enjoy the feeling of relief she had right now, rather than ignore the part of her brain that was quietly telling her it was bound to happen again, that she would never be able to truly let her guard down. Her mind went to Mark and the kids and she smiled. She knew he’d probably ring any second now, after the news reporters aired their stories. 

“Ms. Weathers, Ms. Prescott, we’d like to take you to the hospital anyway, just for observation.”

Sidney replied on their behalf, watching Gale gaze into the distance, almost blankly. She couldn’t imagine how she was feeling after what happened to Dewey. Gently, she squeezed her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“Let’s go.” She said, softly.

Gale nodded, and let Sidney help her to her feet. She felt a pang in her side and had to lean on her for support. 

They were driven to the hospital in silence, neither feeling the need to start talking about anything. They were both there. They knew what had happened. They would have to go through the arduous process of debriefing by the police within a couple of hours. Nothing they hadn’t done before. But still, as Sidney watched her, she realised by the slight twist of her face, the fact that she was tensing every muscle in her body, that Gale was starting to process some of it. 

Or, most likely, one event in particular. 

Dewey and Gale never let divorce destroy their friendship, their companionship, their trust in one another. It was simply a matter of being at different paces, different stages. She wanted to charge forward, wanted to keep her career progressing, wanted to be right in the action whenever she could. But he hadn’t. After all they’d been through, he’d implored her to consider slowing down, easing off, maybe even settling and having a family. She’d accused him of trying to push down and forget what had happened, begging him to understand that she needed to do this, she needed to stay connected to Woodsboro and all that had happened to them for her own grief and because it made her feel better knowing if it were to all happen again, she would be ready. But he had insisted that trying to move on was what he needed, that he couldn’t keep thinking it, couldn’t keep living it. They hadn’t separated out of anger, out of hatred, out of a loss of love. He simply hadn’t wanted to stop her from achieving her goals, her dreams. Her career was important to her, she understood and respected that entirely. But the same things that drove her forward ate him up inside. So slowly, he’d distanced himself from her emotionally, she’d felt it and not resisted, and eventually Dewey had decided that he needed to ground himself. After trying to move around a few times with no feeling of satisfaction anywhere, as much as he hated to admit it, Dewey realised he was happier and more comfortable in Woodsboro.

Their reunion today had been under such tense circumstances, with no time to simply catch up and check in. And before Gale could even think about all the things she wanted to say, how to articulate that she missed him and hadn’t stopped loving him damn it, and that maybe they should just find some common ground, he’d been taken from her. Taken from her by the very person who’d brought them together in the first place. It hadn’t hit her just how much she’d wanted to tell him that she loved him until she watched his body being wheeled out of the hospital, covered by a sheet. They’d always been so good together, always wanting and willing to try and work things out when issue arose. But they’d simply grown tired over the years, neither having the energy to resolve, just simply sit and let build. She wished dearly at this moment that she’d been more open to his idea of living far away in a small town where nobody knew them and what they’d been through, at least, not in as much intimate detail as those who lived in Woodsboro, and directed her attention back to writing. As much as she’d yearned for a high-profile news anchor position all these years, her writing was truly the thing that sparked her soul, her inner voice. She supposed she could always do that now though, take an understandable indefinite absence from television and simply write. Write to serve his memory, his honour. Write to lift some of the guilt and heaviness in her own chest. 

Although, Gale noted, she didn’t feel particularly sad or guilty right now. Just numb, empty, detached. The doctor had given her some painkillers which were probably part of it. But as she watched Sidney eagerly answer the phone from her husband, watched tears stream down her face as she reassured him that she was fine, that she would come home as soon as she could, she felt that grief start to grow. In another life, that could have been her, she thought. Her lips pursed as she listened to Sidney tell her children good night and that she loved them with all of her heart. That could have been her too. For a minute, she cruelly allowed herself to picture it, her and Dewey being parents. He would have been so gentle, so nurturing, she realised, and it broke her heart to think that she’d denied him that. He’d always claimed to be neutral on the subject, but deep down she knew that her statements of ‘maybe, but not now’ had hurt him, had bugged him, had upset him.

“Look, it’s two in the morning, do you want to just spend the night at a hotel?” Sidney’s voice and touch disrupted her train of thought.

“Yeah…” She replied, quietly.

Their drive was silent, mostly out of fatigue. Sidney could barely kept her eyes open, but dug her nails into her palm to keep herself awake. She tried to think about what they’d need to do over the next few days. Organise funerals, finances, where they’d be staying in Woodsboro in the mean time. Nothing they hadn’t done before. But Sidney knew Gale, as much as she would probably insist she could, couldn’t just go back to New York and pretend nothing had happened. She needed to keep an eye on her because Gale was the kind of person to hide, to keep it in, to try and act like everything was fine. Maybe that had worked in the past, but it wasn’t going to work anymore. It had been too many years of this shit, of losing people, of being afraid to get close to anyone because there was always a risk they would be entangled in the chaos that seemed to haunt them. 

No, now was the time to pause and just accept that what had happened was awful, wasn’t fair, was going to hurt and they should let it hurt.

Gale wordlessly followed Sidney’s lead as she walked to the front desk of the empty hotel lobby and requested a room. The police had given them some spare clothes but other than phones, wallets, and guns, that was about it. When they arrived to the small room, Sidney found herself watching Gale again. She changed into the large police squad tee and sweatpants and simply sat on the edge of the bed, looking into her lap. Her hand started to shake beside her, and Sidney understood. Sidney sat beside Gale on the bed, letting her rest her head on her shoulder, reaching an arm around her.

And just like that, her stoic expression crumbled into a torrent of sobs. She buried her head against Sidney’s chest who hushed her, running her hand through her hair. Gale’s arms wrapped around her, gripping tightly.

Gale’s bodyweight sank into hers again, and she knew just how exhausted she was. Slowly, Sidney lied back, letting Gale curl up against her. She understood that she never let herself be vulnerable, that she always tried to stay strong, to stay fierce, to not give anyone the opportunity to undermine her.

But right now, Sidney simply allowed Gale to let her guard down, and to let her emotions pour out.