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It’s a month later when they return to Tortuga and Alysa finds herself drawn back into the same tavern at which she and Isabeau enjoyed their evening a fortnight prior.
She had risen and dressed that morning like she always had, pressing a gentle kiss to a sleeping Amber, and collecting Isabeau to bring them back to the ship on time. They had drawn anchor and headed back out to sea with all the usual markings of a morning after they made land. Each and every member of the crew was slogging around on the deck, eyes half open and muscles wrought a night of pleasure and pillage, not considering for a second what the consequences of those actions would be the following day.
The first eight hours are always the worst, when the pirates still have things in their stomach and spend the first few hours back at sea vomiting over the side of the ship with the grace of a dying frog.
After that, things tended to even out a bit, most of the men regaining most of their composure and half their dignity by the following day.
Alysa hadn’t even suffered a hangover, by some sheer luck or force of will.
No, the ailment she struggled with that first morning back at sea wasn’t physical, but something else, something tender blooming in her chest that had no business being there.
The men hadn’t noticed in the slightest, but Isabeau could pick up on Alysa’s moods from across an entire continent.
There was an almost imperceptible divot in her Captain’s steps that morning, a heaviness on her shoulders that bore more than just the usual expectations of herself.
It hadn’t faded either, in the following weeks.
Isabeau had seen it, in the way that Alysa sunk her sword just a little deeper than needed into a solider who had tried to take a swing at Isabeau. She had seen it in the way Alysa had publicly humiliated Ilia for missing a few crates on their last raid, stripping him down to his underwear and forcing him to scrub the deck all day long on his hands and knees for the entire crew to see. She had seen it in the extra tension in her sleep, the way Alysa was turning and twisting much more than usual through the night, waking up sweaty and screaming in Isabeau’s arms.
She tried to soothe as best she could, brushing her fingers through her matted locks, whispering gentle nothings in her ear, holding her tightly against her chest, reminding her that she’s safe, it’s okay.
Eventually, Alysa would settle, the exhaustion pulling her back under, a small whimper seeing her off to sleep. Isabeau would wait, until her shoulders finally lost tension, until her breathing had finally evened out, until her grip on Isabeau’s hand had slackened. Then, and only then, would Isabeau see herself off to get some rest.
No doubt the late nights were taking a toll on them both.
But Alysa had a ship to run, a crew to feed and pay, a reputation to uphold. She couldn’t let this moment get in the way. And that’s all it was, a moment, a brief lapse in time where her nightmares were stronger, her demons getting their claws in deeper than normal. But it will fade, it always does.
That’s what she tells herself as they finally dock again in Tortuga, and she stumbles off the boat, intending to get as drunk as possible and headed towards the tavern. Ilia could manage business with Evan just fine on his own. She had given him an apology of course, in private quarters away from prying eyes. But it had done little to soothe the sunburn across his back, the marks along his knees and knuckles from kneeling all day.
“Aye Cap’n, it won’t happen again, promise,” He had said, eyes staunchly fixed on the ground until he was dismissed. He’d get over it, she knew he would. She’d had him around long enough to know that much. He was a pain in the ass but loyal, deathly loyal, and he wouldn’t take it personally. Still, she managed the guilt like she managed everything else, by getting completely shit faced.
Isabeau had been there, like she always was, gently taking empty bottles out of her hand and seeing her to bed, one arm thrown around her shoulders to keep her from face planting onto the deck, supporting her long enough to get her into bed every night for the past week when she’s been truly gone. When the memories have been at their strongest, and the feeling in her chest is unbearable.
She gets like this sometimes, waves of her past pulling her beneath the tide before she can stop them.
So she clings to the bottle and to Isabeau to stay afloat, until the storm ceases and she can go back to swimming on her own. For now though, she needs more, the touch of another, Amber, who’s been haunting her dreams, stopping in to see her in between nightmares, featherlight touches under her chin, sweet moans in her ear.
She loves Isabeau with everything that she is and everything that she ever will be. She would die for that girl, and has killed hundreds for her already. But there was something about Amber, something that had taken hold and wouldn’t let go. And she wanted to see her, that was her only goal as she stumbled through Tortuga, shoving her way through stumbling drunks and fighting men.
She ducks a swing from a fist not meant for her, allowing the man to hit his target behind her as she meanders into the tavern, unbothered by the sights and sounds of chaos. If anything, they’re a comfort as she brings herself inside to dim candle light flickering over the walls, glasses and steins clicking together, the shout of prices and orders flying overhead.
Alysa is halfway up the stairs when she feels someone grab the back of her coat and tug, hard.
“Fuck!” She manages to growl, her boot slipping back on the stair tread as she fumbles for the railing to stop herself. She barely manages to grab around the wood, digging her fingernails in to turn around and find out who the fuck dares grab her coattails.
But when she turns, sword already drawn out of instinct and rage, her anger is quelled with one look into baby blue eyes.
“Isabeau, what?” Alysa asks, confused.
“She’s not here,” Isabeau says, shaking her head.
“What are you talking about?” Alysa steps down so she’s standing on the same stair as Isabeau, hand still on her sword. Her other hand reaches up gently, caressing Isabeau’s cheek.
“Amber, she’s not here, that’s who you’re looking for isn’t it?” Isabeau says, and there’s something in her voice, a shake that makes her take pause.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Alysa asks, suddenly dipping into a tone reserved for concern. The kind of concern she only ever felt when Isabeau looked like this, and the world narrowed down into just the two of them, nothing else mattered.
“I saw, Lysa you need to come with me,” Isabeau says, and at this distance, Alysa can see that her lover is on the verge of tears, and something steels inside her, ready to rain down hellfire on whoever or whatever upset Isabeau.
“Show me,” Alysa nods, finally sheathing her sword so it’s easier for the two of them to maneuver through the crowd and away from the cacophony of the tavern without accidentally nicking anyone. There’s no more conversation between them as Isabeau leads her down the cobblestone streets, further back towards the docks, where the road turns to dirt beneath their feet, a mix of mud and earth and sand from the beach churning into paths that are seldom cared for. The moon provides light from above them, and beyond that, torches and lanterns hanging outside of shops and residences, giving pools of light in between long stretches of darkness.
Alysa doesn’t mind, the darkness isn’t new to her. Nights at sea are far darker than nights spent on land. Isabeau moves like a woman on a mission, sticking towards the shadows, ignoring every passerby, barely sparing a glance to make sure Alysa is still behind her, knowing that her captain can easily keep up. Her dark leather pants and black cotton shirt conceal her pale skin from catching the light, making her blend easily into the inky blackness of the night. Alysa is grateful for her own dark coat as always, a unique hallmark of her captaincy that she prefers to move in stealth for as long as possible before striking.
Going in guns blazing is a sure way to sign your own death warrant on most occasions.
They reach a crop of buildings not far from the shore, Alysa thinks that if she were to look, she could find the mast of The Black Death from there. She’s about to ask Isabeau where the fuck they’re going before they turn down an alley and it hits her.
Alysa hears it before she sees it.
A muffled grunt, something that could be easily be concealed under the ruckus of the main part of town, but stands out here, where things are quieter. Still, there are horse hooves and yelling and cart wheels and smashing glasses that drown out the sounds, which Alysa quickly understands is the point when the situation comes into view.
At the end of the alley, stand five men, burly and built against the dim light of the moon. Three of them are huddled together towards the stone wall that ends the street, and all facing away from the two pirates approaching from the main road. The other two are lazily leaning against the wall near a barrel, just to the side of their compatriots, passing a lit cigar between the two of them. There’s a lit torch on the ground, slowly burning out, but providing enough flickering light for her to recognize the two men closest to them, the ones leaning on the wall with their side profiles exposed to Alysa and Isabeau. The ones who kick off the wall when they approach, stepping casually towards the center of the road, their intention clear to head off the two women, but trying to play it off as a normal movement.
“Captain Liu, what’s your business over here, thought you’d be drinking the night away elsewhere,” One of the men says. She doesn’t know any of their names, but she knows the flag they sail under, and it’s anything but an honorable crew.
Another grunt, a whine, a muffled cry. Alysa lets her hand fall slowly and deliberatively to under her coat as she tries to get a better look at the three men facing away from them, who are shifting slightly and laughing amongst each other. As they get closer, Alysa’s worst fears are confirmed, as she sees another pair of legs in front of the man in the middle, someone clearly bent over in front of him and obscured from her view by his friends on either side. She doesn’t have to guess what’s happening based on the way the man’s hands are grasping at the waist in front of him, the quick and purposeful thrusts from his hips clearly driving his cock into someone. And based on Isabeau’s expression, she has one guess as to who.
“Just thought I heard something going on over here, wanted to know if there was any fun to be missing,” Alysa smiles, cocking her head to the side and curling her fingers around a dagger concealed under her coat. She doesn’t miss the way Isabeau does the same, her jaw clenched tightly.
“There’s not room for you here Captain Liu, go find your own piece of meat and leave us be,” The second man says, cigar between his teeth.
“Oh is that what you have there? Funny, cause to me it looks like a woman, if it’s a piece of meat you’re looking to stick your dicks in, I’m sure the pen of cows we passed on the way here would be more suitable for you don’t you think?” Alysa says, and then with a sigh, “Actually, I take it back, those cows are too good for you despicable lowlife shitbags,” She growls and takes great pride in the way the men’s faces flare in anger.
“You fucking whore, you know what, come join us why don’t you? Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of raping a captain,” The one guy says with a sneer, and Alysa’s cool expression drops.
“And you never will,” She hisses, and draws her steel before he can even drop his hand to the pistol on his hip, charging forward and grabbing his shirt to keep them in close quarters as she pulls the blade across his neck. He chokes and stutters against her as she drops him instantly, not wasting time with his friend to her side, knowing that he’s dead by now from Isabeau’s hand.
Her focus shifts to the other three men in front of her, who have now turned around, trying to see what all the commotion is, and find their two friends twitching and bleeding out on the ground.
Alysa crosses the space between them in two quick strides, fending off a fumbling counterstrike from the man to the left of the ringleader. Isabeau takes the one on the right, and the one in the center pulls himself free of Amber’s cunt to grab for his sword, which is stuck in a hay bale against the wall.
He throws Amber forward without a care at all, and she collapses on the ground face first in the dirt. Alysa has about half a second to flick her eyes towards the blond and see that her wrists are tightly bound behind her back with rope, hence her inability to catch herself from the fall.
She makes quick work of the man on the left, a quick slash to the knee to catch him off balance, a stomp down on his other foot to discombobulate and flood with pain, a deep slice across his stomach when he leans forward from his injuries right into her dagger. She drives up into him up to the hilt, adrenaline rushing in her veins as blood gushes around her hands from the wound, warm and thick as she drags the knife across his abdomen. His guts spill out as she tugs it free and shoves his body to the side, not bothering to look as he falls to the ground, howling in pain, grasping at his body to try and stop the bleeding even though he’s as good as dead. He twitches for a few more moments, garbled noises of pain slipping from his lips before he goes still, life slowly fading from his eyes.
Isabeau is to her right, still dispatching the other man, who had his sword at the ready, but she can’t be bothered with them right now, not as the man who had been driving himself into Amber when they arrived finally faces her.
His sword presents a slight challenge, with her dagger being the shorter blade, but she wants the short range weapon right now. She wants to see the light leave his eyes up close. She needs it.
Alysa surges forward with an intensity she hasn’t felt in ages, her eyes alight with rage as she ducks his first clumsy swing and quickly clips the back of his ankle with the dagger, slicing a deep cut there. He screams out in agony, falling to his knees, catching himself in the dirt and trying to swing back at her. But she’s much too quick for him, and his sword simply catches air where she had been standing, his movements clearly lethargic from surprise and inebriation.
She’s behind his other side when she grabs his arm around the shoulder and tugs it back, her heels digging into the dirt to give her the leverage need before driving her blade, caked with the blood of his comrades, directly into the crook of his elbow. Her grip on the knife is unrelenting, and she twists it until she hears a satisfying pop, and a resulting scream, reassured that his arm is now useless.
He’s forced to use the sword in his other hand for balance now, and when she kicks his blade away from him, he falls onto the ground, hands unable to catch himself as his face smacks into the dirt with a grunt.
“Bitch,” He growls and Alysa laughs, so deep and shrill that she surprises even herself as she steps towards him, and digs her fingers into his right ear with purpose, tugging until he screams.
“Oh you have no idea you rat bastard, how many women have you done this to hm? How many screams have you heard?” She hisses, crouching down on her ankles as she lifts the blade to the join of his ear to his skull, and starts to slowly drag it down with purpose, cleaving apart the flesh.
He screams and howls with agony, his one good hand trying to claw her away until she grabs his discarded sword and stabs it right through his palm, pinning him to the ground, thrilled by the way the muscle tears when she pushes the blade clear through his hand to the earth below before returning to her task.
She peels his ear from his head slowly, inch by inch, making him feel the sting of it, watching him writhe under her touch, until she can hold the appendage in front of him, shaking it to show him her work before tossing it behind her carelessly. He’s babbling incoherently now, begging her to stop, begging her to let him go, tears and snot pouring down his face as she just tsks at him and shakes her head, going for the other ear and relishing in the pure unadulterated terror in his eyes when she grabs hold of it.
“Lysa,” It’s Isabeau, and only Isabeau’s voice gets through the fog of anger surrounding Alysa, and she manages to look up to find Isabeau looking at her from the ground with tired and wanting eyes, Amber gathered up in her arms. The blond looks so much smaller than she was when Alysa last saw her, or at least, appears so much smaller clinging to Isabeau, clothing shredded to rags, wrists marked from the rope, eyes rimmed red from tears.
It makes her want to double down again, to cut off this man’s body parts one by one in front of him until he bleeds out under her faithful watch, slowly, and feeling every bit of pain. But then Isabeau speaks again.
“Lysa, please, she needs help,” And Alysa, swallows once and takes in a deep breath.
“You’re so fucking lucky that there’s more pressing matters for me to deal with, or I’d drag your death out for hours,” Alysa hisses lowly into the man’s good ear, before she drags her knife unceremoniously across his throat, ending his life in seconds.
She wipes the dagger off on his clothes, which doesn’t do much to clean the layers of blood now drying in her skin, but it’ll have to do for now. She puts the weapon away, approaching the two women slowly, like she would a scared wild animal.
“Hey, it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you, promise, do you remember us Amber?” Alysa asks, her voice gentle, a complete 180 of her tone towards the man.
The blond just nods and manages to choke out,
“Alysa, and Isabeau,” She says, her voice raw and rough, from tears or something else, Alysa isn’t sure. But either way, that’s all the confirmation she needs from the girl to assume there will at least be a baseline of trust to get her some help.
“Yes, that’s right, come on, we’re going to get you some help,” Alysa says, offering a hand. But Amber shakes her head, trying to get to her feet of her own volition, despite the fact that Isabeau is clearly supporting her weight from behind to help her stand.
“I’m okay, I’ve had worse, it’s, I’m fine thank you for stopping them, I’m, I need to get back, I’m okay,” Amber says, trying to steady the unmistakable shake in her voice.
“Darling, there is nothing okay about you right now, let us help you, please,” Alysa says, reaching out a hand to put around Amber’s waist, where she’s horrified to find hand print shaped bruises angry and red against her perfect skin.
She’s thankful she does, because in the next instant, Amber’s knees buckle from underneath her and Alysa lunges forward to help Isabeau catch her, stopping her from falling to the ground again.
“Alysa, is she,” Isabeau says, tears stricken on her face now too.
“No, no, she’s still breathing it’s okay Beau, she just needs some help, we’re gonna help her,” Alysa says with a confident nod. She swings her coat off from around her body without hesitation, and wraps it around the other woman, protecting her as best she can at the moment from the chill of the night and preserving some of her modesty. The next moment she’s bending at the knees to take Amber’s weight in her arms, one hooked under her legs and another around her shoulders. She doesn’t flinch with it, walking out of the alley with the girl tucked into her chest despite Amber being about a head taller.
Isabeau walks just slightly ahead of them, eyes peeled for obstacles and trouble, anything that could divert them from getting Amber somewhere safe and cared for.
Thankfully, the journey back towards the dock is uneventful, the exact opposite of the rest of the night, quiet and gentle.
Most of the activity in Tortuga at this point is in town, the ships left to be watched by the few dock attendants and pirates who drew the short straw and don’t get to spend the night on land. And Ilia. Who prefers to stay aboard rather than venture off. Alysa once asked him about it, and he said something half assed about not being able to sleep on a bed that doesn’t move. It doesn’t really matter the why behind it, she just knows he’ll be there, probably awake still too, even though the moon is high in the sky.
She’s right of course, once they get within a stone’s throw of The Black Death, she sees his silhouette up in the rigging, laying back against the mast support on the sail, one leg hanging off the edge haphazardly, totally relaxed.
“MALININ!” Alysa shouts up at him, and the boy jerks with a start, grabbing blindly at the wood underneath him to prevent himself from plummeting to the dock in shock.
“Captain? What?” Ilia calls down, confused as he crawls off the sail towards the rigging and begins to scrambled down the mast like a monkey.
His boots hit the deck the same moment Alysa and Isabeau step across the gangway to board.
“What’s going on? Who’s this?” Ilia asks, looking curiously at the unconscious unfamiliar woman in Alysa’s arms.
“Doesn’t matter, run to Bates, tell him I’ll give Chock double her usual fee if she gets here as fast as fucking possible,” Alysa orders without hesitation, having settled on her chosen course of action during their walk back.
Ilia, the loyal dog he is, doesn’t ask any further questions. Alysa is endlessly grateful for that as he turns heel and takes off into the night without another word.
“Isa, my cabin,” Alysa nods towards the stern and the heavy wooden door that conceals her room. Isabeau sprints ahead of them and pulls it open, tugging it almost closed behind them, leaving it cracked for Ilia’s return as Alysa settles Amber in her bed.
She sets her down as gently as possible, opening up her coat to try and gage better the extent of the woman’s injuries.
Amber is naked from the waist down, her top half only partially concealed by a loose fitting shirt that is torn down the side, a tear that is marked with blood. Alysa starts there, feeling bad for a moment about touching a woman unconscious like this, but knowing she has to do something in case Amber is actively bleeding out somewhere. Lifting the torn edge of the shirt just slightly, she peers under to see a long cut down Amber’s side, starting just below her breast and down to her pelvis. Thankfully, it’s not bleeding anymore, and doesn’t seem to be very deep. Alysa guesses a sword or knife was trying to remove her shirt and nicked her underneath as well.
Isabeau, feeling completely at a loss, lays next to Amber and starts to gently brush a hand through her matted and tangled hair. She slowly works through it with her fingers, untangling it with great care, inch by inch. It gives her a task to focus on, a way to feel as though she’s helping, something grounding, and Alysa lets her continue uninterrupted while she looks Amber over still.
There are consistent bruises painting her skin in vulnerable places, handprint shaped marks around her neck and on her waist, angry red circles on her chest and in between her thighs. But no other open cuts that Alysa can find, no other physical wounds marking her, but she knows this goes far deeper than physical, and is overcome with worry about what state Amber will be in when she wakes.
But right now, her priority is Isabeau, who is still red around the eyes from crying. Alysa sinks into the bed behind her, and pulls the smaller girl into her lap wordlessly, holding her tightly around the waist, pulling her flush and pressing her nose into the space between her shoulder and neck. Isabeau relaxes into the hold, and breaks again, soft sobs wrecking her body.
“It’s okay Beau, it’s gonna be okay, she’s going to be alright, breathe for me baby,” Alysa whispers softly.
“No, I could’ve, I saw them with her, and they were pushing her around and saying just awful things Lysa, and then, when they grabbed her and took her down the alley and I heard a scream and I didn’t know what else to do and then I went to find you and I could’ve, I should’ve stopped them sooner,” Isabeau chokes out.
“No my love, you did the right thing coming to get me, if you had tried to take them all on your own, you could’ve ended up hurt or worse, you did everything right baby,” Alysa says, soothing over her words with gentle kisses on Isabeau’s neck as the younger continues to cry, and Alysa lets her, holding her tightly as she gets it all out.
She’s about to say something else when the door to the left swings open, Ilia stepping through with a smaller woman behind him.
Madison Chock closes the door behind her, a cloth bag around her shoulder that she sets down as she approaches the bed with caution, eyes raking over the disheveled scene in front of her.
“Captain Liu, with the amount of gold you promised me, I figured little Beau peep here was hurt, but imagine my surprise to see you’re shelling out for a local whore,” Madison says, a smirk playing at her lips.
“I asked you here to take care of this woman, not to debase her Chock,” Alysa growls, slipping off the bed from behind Isabeau and stepping up towards Chock.
Evan’s wife dabbles in what little medical practice exists in the world, and is well known for giving sailors and pirates alike special concoctions, for the right price of course. She deals in seasickness and hangover cures, but makes most of her income slipping men little vials to give to women they sleep with to prevent a responsibility they don’t want, and the possibility of their wives and girlfriends finding out they were unloyal.
But in moments like these, her skills are more conventionally valued.
“Fine, as you wish, your business I suppose,” Chock raises one eyebrow, but she’s more than accustomed to dealings in discretion. She steps forward to better assess, running a gentle hand over Amber’s forehead, and again down the rest of her body, touching under the careful watch of Alysa, who hovers just behind her.
“Relax Liu, I just need to make sure there’s nothing wrong, I don’t need a woman to be blacked out for me to cop a feel, I have plenty of charm on my own,” Madison chuckles at the death glare Alysa is giving her.
“Don’t you also have a husband?” Isabeau asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Didn’t you have one too?” Madison says back, highly amused as Isabeau’s expression darkens and Alysa growls.
“Madison,” She warns and Madison sighs.
“Easy, she’ll be fine, she’s just malnourished and dehydrated, and exhausted, she just needs rest, and for you to keep an eye on that cut to make sure it doesn’t get any worse, let her sleep,” Madison sighs, stepping back from Amber and retrieving her bag from where she left it at the door.
“Really?” Alysa asks, seeing Madison out to the deck, leaving Isabeau and Ilia with Amber.
“Yes really, you pirates and your life or death situations, here, based on what I saw, she might want this in the morning, watch her afterwards, it makes most people sick, but it doesn’t last long,” Madison retrieves one of her usuals, pressing a small vial with ghoulish green liquid inside to Alysa’s palm.
“Thank you Chock, here, your gold,” Alysa pulls the pouch from her belt and slips the alloted amount into Madison’s hand, watching the woman take her leave of the ship and head back towards her own abode where Evan is no doubt waiting to hear what the dreaded Captain Liu wanted her for in the middle of the night.
Alysa takes a few moments to herself out on the deck, leaning over the edge of the ship and breathing in the fresh spray of the ocean, soothing the tension in her shoulders.
She knew those men she killed, the one she tortured. And their Captain is sure to seek revenge. She’s started a war, and for a girl she barely even knows. But there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or regret she could find within herself, despite how hard she tried to find some. Given the chance to do it again, she would do the same thing, risk everything to save Amber, to bring her to safety.
When she returns to the cabin, she finds Isabeau curled up next to Amber’s sleeping form, exhaustion pulling on her body too. Ilia is standing by the door, arms folded across his chest.
“Captain, can I ask what’s going on now?” Ilia raises an eyebrow and she nods. She sums up the story as succinctly as possible, giving him as much detail as is needed, which is just enough to get the gist of the whole thing. Amber needed help, there was a fight, Alysa and Isabeau won, and Amber got hurt, so they had to bring her here.
“Just, go watch the deck please, we’ll deal with the consequences of this in the morning. It’s unlikely the bodies will get discovered until then anyways, but keep an extra eye out anyways,” Alysa says, and although he still appears skeptical, he nods once and takes his leave.
Alysa bars the door behind him, just in case, before shedding her shirt and pants, joining Isabeau in the bed, Amber softly sleeping in between them.
“Are you okay my love?” Alysa asks, raising a gentle hand to brush away some hair from Isabeau’s forehead.
“Yes, I just, I wish we could do something more for her,” Isabeau sighs, and Alysa nods.
“We’re doing everything we can, she’s safe here, we’re going to keep her safe, I’m going to keep you both safe, always,” Alysa hums, leaning forward to capture Isabeau’s lips in a gentle but solid kiss.
“Thank you my captain,” Isabeau grins against her mouth and Alysa can’t help the blush that overtakes her face. Even after all their time together, she still gets butterflies when Isabeau teases her.
“Always my love, always,” Alysa mushes and Isabeau rolls her eyes at the daydreaming tone, pushing Alysa back into the sheets, Amber gently stirring in between them.
Alysa reaches down, gathering the blond in her arms, pulling her in close. Isabeau must’ve put new clothes on her when she was out on the deck, because she’s in some of Alysa’s briefs and a new loose black cotton shirt now. Isabeau snuggles herself into her front, whispering gentle breaths of encouragement to both Alysa and Amber, until the former finally is able to fall asleep, her arm still draped across Amber’s chest.