Can You Save Me

Annie Wilson closed her eyes and propped her head against her closed fist. Behind her and through the not-so-soundproof glass of the detective's office, she could hear her parents tight, strained voices discussing the…accident. Technically vehicular manslaughter, the detective had said and she purposely focused on the phrase. The official words shredded any sense of relief she'd felt at finally coming clean about the hit and run that had ended a man's life a year ago, replacing it with anxiety that gnawed away at her empty stomach. She knew she deserved it and steadfastly refused to shove the thought aside. There was no point in wishing for the night to be over. Come morning, the problem would still be there. A man would still be dead and she'd still be the one who ended his life. Forever. She had to live with this forever. She might as well get used to it.

The voices in the office rose momentarily, but she still couldn't make out actual words. One mildly non-awful thing had come of her revelation: her parents were talking, working together. A sputtering flicker of hope warmed her as she toyed with the idea of her stupidity saving her family from breaking apart. She quickly doused the warmth and drew the familiar, yet painful cocoon of despair around her. Better to focus on reality, she chastised herself. No use hoping for good things she didn't deserve.

As easy as it was for the anguish to take center stage, Annie couldn't smother one stubbornly happy thought. The little pocket of warmth bloomed in the pit that was her stomach and pushed away the cloying nausea. Amidst all the fear and guilt that comprised the past year of her life, one good thing came out of it. Liam. The furrow between her brows relaxed and her lips almost curved into a ghost of a smile as she remembered how excited he'd been to show her his boat. She still couldn't believe he'd built that beautiful thing, let alone that it would actually float. Sighing, she wondered if there was anything she wouldn't give to be back there with him. If she'd asked him to just sail away with her, away from the crimes they'd both committed and the consequences they had to face, would he have agreed? Maybe by now they could be miles away, putting an ocean between them and everything that had happened in the past year. Everything but the friendship they'd forged. The only good part.

"Sit," an authoritative voice barked, followed by the clinking of metal. Annie's eyes fluttered open out of curiosity and immediately alighted on a set of handcuffs. One end closed around the armrest of a bench identical to the one she currently occupied, the other locked around a wrist covered in blood. Surprise prompted her to sit up straighter and base instinct had her seeking out the face that went with it.

"Oh my god," she breathed as she took in the familiar dark brown hair, the white shirt and worn jeans. The boy sitting across the police station from her stared down at this free hand, flexing the fingers slowly and carefully, so she couldn't see his face. Not that she needed to. "Liam?"

The head lifted with whiplash speed and a wave of emotions swept across Liam's features as he registered her presence. Surprise, humiliation, relief, concern. When he spoke his voice was slightly hoarse. "Annie, what-what are you doing here?"

"Reporting my felony," she stated even though at the moment she'd forgotten all about the hit and run. Concern etched deep furrows in her brow as she took in not only the blood staining his hands, but also spattered across his once pristine shirt. Casting a cursory glance over her shoulder and finding her parents and the detective still deep in conversation, she darted across the white marble of the station floor and crouched before him. "What are you doing here? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," he tried to insist, meeting her eye, but squirming under at the attention.

"You're covered in blood," she pointed out the obvious and on impulse reached for his hands.

"It's not mine," he began, but bit back a curse as Annie's fingers closed around his. Gasping, she loosened her grip and gently uncurled his fingers. Already bruised and swollen, blood seeped from deep wounds across his knuckles where the skin had split. She bit her lip and lifted her gaze to his. Liam shrugged and tried to smirk, but his eyes were pained. "Well, it's mostly not mine."

"What happened?" she asked again, claiming a seat beside him on the bench. Loosely, she cradled his damaged free hand in her lap, oblivious to the drips of blood staining her own tattered jeans and BHHS sweatshirt. A draft of air alerted her senses to something acrid, something familiar. "You smell like smoke."

A few tense moments stretched between them as he hesitated, his jaw clenched so tightly Annie could actually see it twitch. Finally, he spoke. "The boat's gone."

Annie blinked in dumbfounded shock. "Gone?"

"Someone…someone took it out to the middle of the harbor and set the deck on fire," he explained, staring at their linked hands. "I guess it must have spread to the engine room and, um, blew up."

"Blew up," Annie repeated and immediately cursed the surprise that was rendering her capable of only stating the obvious. "That's…That's insane. Why would - who would do that?" Liam didn't answer, but she felt his grip on her fingers tighten. Dropping her gaze, she took in the bloodied and bruised hand she hadn't hesitated to take. Realization slowly filtered through her stunned brain. "Whoever did it, This is their blood, isn't it."

Liam nodded. "I got back just in time to see him climbing up the ladder to the dock. The boat was on fire. I ran at him and just…took him down. The boat blew and I just kept hitting him. Even when I heard the sirens, I didn't stop. I don't even know if…if he's alive. I think he is, but he wasn't conscious when…when they took him away."

The defeat in his voice broke her heart. She did the only thing that felt right. Wrapping her arm around him, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Liam." She wasn't sure exactly what she was sorry for - the loss of his precious boat, the loss of his temper that may have caused irreversible damage this time or maybe both. He'd taken extreme pride in building that boat, but she knew reigning in the rage that sometimes boiled to the surface was infinitely more difficult. "I'm really, really sorry."

He shook his head at her words, trying to dismiss them as he blinked furiously and stared at the floor. Tension turned his upper body to granite in her arms even as tremors of pent up frustration rolled through him. Long minutes passed before the shaking stopped, but even when it did, Annie didn't let go. Comforting Liam felt good, eased the ache in her own chest and let her pretend for a second that maybe he got as much out of their friendship as she did. Absently, she rubbed his arm. "Do you know who did it? Or why?"

"Yeah," he admitted after a long pause, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

"Who?

Liam turned his head and piercing blue eyes met hers. After studying her for a long moment, he uttered. "It was Jasper."

Jerking upright as if she'd been burned, Annie let go of his hand; her arm fell away. "Jasper?" she repeated numbly. She couldn't have heard him right. Jasper was a lot of things, but setting a boat on fire in the middle of the arena? People could have been killed. If Liam hadn't been dropping her off, he might have been on that boat…

Even as her heart fought it, her brain knew the truth. Liam had no reason to lie. Stomach twisting painfully, she tasted bile in the back of her throat. Jasper must have been watching them. Stalking her. The violation continuing without even touching. Liam had never been in any danger, but the realization actually made her feel worse. An overwhelming wave of helplessness washed over her and her eyes welled with tears. Selfishly, she almost wished Jasper were dead, just so she could be free of him. So the nightmare could be over and she could figure out how to live her life from here.

"This is all my fault," she choked out, stifling an anguished sob by clapping a hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes and the tears that had been hanging on her lashes spilled over, burning twin trails down her cheeks. When she opened them, Liam's face was a mask of confusion. She grabbed his bicep and struggled to speak around the lump in her throat. For what felt like the millionth time, she apologized. "I'm so sorry. It's because of me. If I hadn't…if we hadn't been hanging out, he wouldn't have…God, how can I make him stop? I thought if I told the truth it would really be over, but it's not. It doesn't matter to him. Liam! Liam, you could have died and it would have been all my fault."

"Hey, hey, hey. It's alright, Annie. It's alright," Liam interrupted her ramble just as it approached hysterics. Gently, he wrapped his free hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him. The silver cuff bit into his flesh when he tried to use his other arm, angrily reminding him of his captivity. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he held her there as she shook with tears. Grasping for anything to calm her down, he offered whatever nonsense came to mind. "Seriously, it's okay. I don't understand half of what you're talking about, but I swear he's - whatever he's done, he's not going to do it anymore. I won't let him. I promise."

Annie couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing through her ears, but she heard his voice and felt it caress her frayed nerves. The anguish, however, remained fresh and new. Almost like the time she spent on the boat in this very same position hadn't even happened. Except this time, the tears weren't just for the man she'd killed, now they were also born of fear. Of all the times she'd wished to erase that fateful night last year, the feelings had never been this intense, this desperate. For the first time she really believed Jason would hurt her – would hurt anybody who got in his way. Cast adrift in an ocean of near hysteria, she reached for Liam and curled her fingers into a fist around the open collar of his bloodstained shirt.

After what seemed like an eternity, the tears subsided but she didn't want to move. Security replaced the ebbing tide of emotion. Beneath the smoke, she could still smell faint traces of Liam's cologne. The warmth of his body bled through his shirt and soaked into her skin. She could hear his heartbeat and soon noticed hers had slowed to match it. Sniffing, she opened her eyes and loosed her grip on his shirt. Blood from her hands stained the white fabric. Liam's blood.

"You okay?" he murmured, just as gently as his words of comfort.

"I…," she'd been about to apologize – again – but couldn't find the strength. Blinking away left over tears, she lifted her head. The panic was gone, but she could still feel it on the edges of her mind. Ridiculously blue eyes searched her face, waiting. With a sigh, she murmured. "I'm just…so tired…I don't want to feel like this anymore. I want it to be over. "

"You and me both," he replied, a wan smile brightening his face and somehow, in the midst of their personal hells, making her heart trip just a little faster. His gaze dropped to her mouth and for one breathless second she anticipated kissing him in the police station – him handcuffed and bloody, her a tear-stained wreck. A hysterical laugh lodged in her throat and she tried to swallow it before it could escape and ruin the moment completely.

Liam didn't kiss her. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against hers, but the effect was the same. Her lips parted on a silent surprised gasp as her eyelids fluttered shut of their own accord. Bit by bit her fear and guilt, his rage and frustration, began to drained away, leaving her with the foreign sensation of peace. After a year, the dead weight of her actions had become her anchor. Without it, the disconnect was overwhelming and she reached for him blindly. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair, her palm resting on his cheek. Stubbornly refusing to give into another panic attack, she tried to focus on the reassuring pressure of his hand on the back of her neck and the sweep of his thumb over the pulse point below her jaw.

"Annie!"

Like a sharp rebuke, her name echoed through the station and suddenly Liam was gone. Disoriented, she blinked and looked toward the sound. The meeting with the detective was over. Outside the open door, her mother loomed like a statue, arms crossed, face set in stone. Just over her shoulder, her father wore a similar expression. A stoic, unified front. Their eyes flickered between her wide, red eyes and the blood covered boy sitting next to her, once again staring holes through the polished floor.

"We're leaving. Now," her mother announced and then turned to exchange a few parting words with the detective. Her father continued to stare at Liam and not for the first time she hated that he was the principal at her high school. Every offense Liam had committed, minor or major, had been added to the permanent record her dad was no doubt calling to mind. She wouldn't have guessed it possible, but Harry Wilson somehow managed to look even angrier as recognition dawned.

Debbie finished her goodbyes and strode toward the door without giving Annie a second look. Desperately, she hoped her father would follow suit and she could say goodbye to Liam without their eavesdropping, but her father stood rigid.

"Call me if you need anything," she whispered discreetly, but her dad heard anyway.

"Oh, don't bother. Annie won't be answering her phone for awhile," Harry interrupted, crossing the marble floor in a few long strides and hauling his daughter to her feet. Liam managed to squeeze her hand one last time before she was literally pulled out of his grasp and propelled toward the exit. Needlessly, her father added a terse. "Let's go."

Knowing how desperate she looked, but not caring, Annie twisted in his grasp and stared over her shoulder. Liam held her gaze, his icy blue eyes still brighter than anything else in her rapidly graying world. The further her father dragged her from that bench, the tighter the anxiety squeezed her lungs. Already the feeling of Liam's arms around her was fading in her memory.

A uniformed police officer approached the bench and released the cuff, but just in case Liam had the idea he'd be freed, that hope was immediately dashed when the same cuff was slapped over his unchained wrist. He tried to hide it, but Annie caught the slight wince as his battered hands were scrapped by the metal. The officer walked away, gesturing for him to follow. Giving her one last fleeting look, his eyes tight with regret, he turned and disappeared around a corner.

Harry pushed open the main door and the balmy Beverly Hills night air wafted around her, cutting off her view of the inside completely. Any other time, the warmth would have soothed her, but now it barely registered. Biting her lip so hard she tasted blood, Annie fought to steady her breathing. She would be okay. Grounded for life, probably, but okay. The reassurances rang hollow, however, because while she had known telling the truth about last year would change everything, she had counted on something. Without even realizing, she'd relied on Liam being there. On their friendship, unbroken by the horrible truth about her actions, carrying her through what was sure to be the worst summer of her life.

Now, with the truth about the stolen coins and nearly beating Jasper to death…Shuddering, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Now she had the horrible feeling she was never going to see him again