Fic: In Keeping Secrets - Katie, Naomi/Emily
So, okay... this is my first foray into something not Naomily. Well, it is Naomily a bit. But not really. And the parts of Naomily that are in it may not stay that way. The name of the fic is from a Coheed and Cambria album, as are the track names. And... well, I know that I'm certainly not the first person to come up with using an album for a fic title and inspiration, it's just that the more I listened to it the more parts I found that fitted with where I think this is going.
Anyway! Hope you like it. And, just to point out - all views expressed here are my interpretation of Katie's views. I love all the Skins characters dearly. Even Freddie.
Title: In Keeping Secrets
Chapter: In Keeping Secrets...
Pairing: Katie, Naomi/Emily
Rating: R for quite a lot of Katie Fitch swearing
Word Count: 5000
Disclaimer: The characters of Katie Fitch, Naomi Campbell, Emily Fitch, Effy Stonem, Pandora Moon, JJ Jones and Freddie McLair most certainly do not belong to me, but I'm borrowing them and their world for a bit. Hope that's ok.
Summary: Jealous envy for the youngest one, to be the hero is all I'll ask.
When she thinks back on it, now, she reckons that the first time she actually, properly thought her sister might be gay was when she saw them together on the bouncy castle in Pandora’s garden.
The time that she saw them, before, she was drunk and angry that some boy at the party had felt her up and then run off back to his friends when they shouted at him that two girls were snogging in the garden. Katie had just stood there in the dark, her bra bunched up over her left breast and her lipstick smudged.
“Fucking great,” she muttered, readjusting herself before following the throng of boys leering and leaning on each other to see them through the window. Barging her way between them all to get a look at the fucking lesbians who had taken the attention away from her (and it had to be fucking good to draw someone away from her fucking spectacular tits, because that just never happens) and leave her hanging.
At first, she couldn’t move. She was certain that it couldn’t be Emily but then was absolutely positive that it was.
Her eyes narrowed as the girl, who she recognised as Naomi, the opinionated hippie and fucking fashion disaster they shared a few classes with, snaked her fingers round the back of her sister’s neck and held her there. She decided, right then, that it was Naomi’s fault, this fucking... whatever it was. Fucking farce of a kiss.
(She chose to ignore how Emily pushed back against Naomi’s lips with more fervour than she had ever witnessed before, with more intensity than she had ever seen her sister exhibit, and the way her sister’s own hands were clasped tightly around Naomi’s waist, fingers almost clawing at the fabric of her oversized shirt.)
As laughter bubbled up around her, she made a second decision. One which, now, she almost wishes she could unmake.
Muttering, “Right,” and shoving more angrily, then, Katie elbowed some lanky twat in the ribs, ignoring his ‘Hey!’, and flung open the back door and watched as her sister and that girl broke away from each other, the sound of their lips smacking apart punctuated by a sharp gasp from Emily as they stood.
Emily, the complete fucking dweeb that she is - was - just stood there as Naomi stumbled backwards slightly, clearly a lot drunker than her sister. Her eyes were bright blue, Katie noticed, even in the darkness, even half-shut with what Katie imagined to be a mixture of drunken confusion and... well. Something. A thing Katie had only seen in the eyes of boys - boys too close to her face, pressed against her and breathing heavily.
It seemed to last, that moment. Where they all surveyed each other, waiting to see who would break the silence. In reality, it happened much faster than Katie remembered, but each moment was etched into her memory.
Finally, as it seemed, Emily was the one who cracked first, the quiet, half-whispered, “Katie...” that escaped her lips angering Katie further.
Later, much later, she knew that it was her sister’s complete inability to stand up to her that pushed her over the edge, to undeservedly tar Naomi with a brush that should have been meant for Emily and, by association, Katie herself.
Not that she would have ever ever wanted that but it was her or them and she was selfish. It was selfish, of both of them. And when Emily gave in to being not as good, to stooping to Katie’s level, it stung, because it wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.
The look of shame directed at Katie then, from eyes so similar to her own, was enough. Even if Emily had been part of this, somehow, it must have been Naomi who made it happen. Naomi who, even now, was staring. Not at the recipient of her kiss, but at the one who interrupted it. She saw the confusion there. “Katie...?” she repeated, leaving it hanging like a question.
She was drunk, they all were, but the way Naomi said it had hit Katie in the gut. Almost like she didn’t even know who Katie was. Katie, the popular one, the sexy one, the interesting one, and this girl didn’t know. She must have known her really, how could she not? But it made Katie wish, then, that she could pretend that she didn’t know who Naomi was either.
Katie clenched her jaw tight and turned her attention back to her sister before taking the last few steps towards her and grabbing her arm. Emily - fucking Emily - didn’t even try to shrug her off, just watched as Naomi’s drunken confusion deepened, and, for the first time, noticing the crowd that had gathered at the kitchen window and were trickling out of the back door.
They didn’t go far, just out of earshot of the gaggle, who had started a quiet murmur amongst themselves.
She was incensed with how pathetic her sister was. And how she let herself be seen doing... that. How Emily even stayed put as it happened. It all came out wrong, though. In a series of ‘What the FUCK?!’s and ‘You stupid fucking cow’s, all slithering away into the darkness as Emily stared at Naomi and then at the floor.
It was unrelenting, the anger, as Emily still said nothing.
“How could you let some stupid dyke bitch do that? Do you know that everyone was fucking laughing at you, Emily?” She still had hold of her sister’s wrist, her grip too hard, probably. It was why she didn’t notice that Naomi had stumbled over to them, protesting against something. Katie wondered if she really knew was it was she fighting for, this time.
“Hey...” it was slurred and quiet. “Hey, Katie. Don’t... don’t do that.”
“And you can just back the fuck off, Naomi, all right? I fucking saw what you did to my sister, we all saw.” She was spitting now. She didn’t care.
Naomi reeled back as if Katie had punched her and, good, because that could be the way the evening was going to turn out anyway.
“What, no... I didn’t. Emily...?”
Katie saw it. Naomi saw it, too, as she stood by her side. Too close, Katie thought, it’s always too close. They watched as Emily, tears in her fucking eyes that were too alike, too Katie and yet not at all, they watched as she shook her head and looked away.
She felt Naomi stiffen and sober up all in one motion. Turning to her, armed with a smirk and the knowledge that Emily would always acquiesce, Katie knew she had won. She didn’t really feel like she had to explain it to Naomi, but she just wanted to, so she told her.
“There. I think that pretty much sums it up.” Katie released her hold on Emily’s wrist, who immediately brought her hand to cover her mouth, probably to mute a sob, as she shook her head, fringe too long and obscuring her eyes. Katie was relieved. It was always easier when the duplicate of her face was looking away in the moments where it was afraid and vulnerable. It would have made it harder to keep from stopping.
“If I ever catch you near my sister again, I will fucking hurt you. Do you understand, you fucking stupid dyke?”
Clearly too shocked to speak, Naomi just stood. Katie watched her, as she watched Emily who just would not look up. She wasn’t leaping to her defence and Naomi knew it. When she spoke, she spoke to Emily.
“Fine. Not a fucking problem,” was all she said before sauntering back towards the house and walking silently through the ridiculous boys who jeered at her as she went.
Better her than Emily, Katie thought. Better her than me.
As the last trace of blonde hair disappeared into the crowd, Katie realised that her sister was, in fact, sobbing her face off and, fuck, if that wasn’t enough to rile her up over again.
“And you can fucking thank me later. We’re going home.” Katie followed where Naomi had carved a path, her sister shadowing her, eyes to the ground, as per usual.
They didn’t talk about it. Because talking about it would have made it real. And Katie didn’t want to remember, even when they saw Naomi at school and Katie glared and Naomi scowled and Emily cowered. And that’s just the way it was.
Which was why, when Katie saw them, Emily on top, Naomi’s hands reaching up to pull her in closer, she really knew that what she’d done had been wrong. And her sister was... right.
But, oh she was high. They all were. But, Naomi hated them. She hated Katie for being a huge cunt, and she hated Emily for being a pathetic loser but... obviously not. Because she had laughed with Katie and now she was kissing Emily. Again.
Unlike the last time they were snogging outside at a party, no-one watching through the window had laughed.
Luckily, then, her stupid useless lump of a boyfriend had shown up and everything had gone tits-up anyway so she didn’t have time to think about it.
****
Since that evening, of course, everything had begun to slowly unravel. She lost the tenuous grip on the thread that had connected her to her sister for the past 17 years, as well as her usually tight hold on reality.
Between rock-wielding freaks, useless stoner boyfriends and smitten gay sisters everything just seemed to stop working for Katie. The blows had seemed to come from all angles with no space in between for recovery.
Marks cover up, apparently. Katie thinks that this is code for ‘bruises don’t ever really heal, but go ahead and try to hide them anyway’.
****
There were days when she realised that she had no idea where Emily was. The fact that she knew who she was with didn’t make anything any better.
She covered for her, because she said she would. And why the fuck not? Like having her mum going on at her about Emily being gay would improve her mood. It might make her a little less inclined to be house-bound, but then that wasn’t really appealing either.
Their room was quiet, taunting. Filled with silence that had once been laughter, bitching, fighting. Any of that would have been better than this, Katie thought, as she chucked a book from her side of the room onto her sister’s empty and untouched bed.
Probably more lesbian porn, Katie reckoned, but then remembered Naomi and realised that Emily probably didn’t even need porn any more. Not when she was so clearly getting laid on a regular basis. Whatever it was that made Katie hate her, she couldn’t help but respect Naomi for putting that smug little smile on Emily’s face.
Not that thinking about her sister and her girlfriend fucking was a regular occurrence but, well, Katie fucking liked sex, and if the person you were having sex with was actually good at it, then that, in Katie’s vast book on things that she knew, was something to be admired. Even if it was still disgusting.
****
One afternoon, about two weeks after the Love Ball, Emily cornered her in the kitchen, fresh salad in hand.
For a moment, she just stood there, in that pathetic Emily way of hers, waiting for some silent message to pass between them. As clued in as Katie was about many things, she still couldn’t read her sister’s mind. She couldn’t decide if this was a good or bad thing.
“What?” It was snappier than she had intended, but Emily just made her do it sometimes. Just the way she looked like some kind of homeless puppy, all wide-eyed and... whatever. It would just be nice if there was a conversation they could have where Emily didn’t look like this and Katie didn’t get angry.
When Emily didn’t speak, Katie took her bowl to the table and sat down. Emily joined her.
“Look, Katie...” she started but Katie didn’t look up, just continued to crunch loudly on celery and lettuce and cucumber. “Things haven’t exactly been... well, they’re not the way I wanted them to be. I thought they were going to be...”
“What?”
“Better.” Katie snapped her head up to see her sister almost wringing her hands. And, fuck, she didn’t like it when Emily was upset but still she couldn’t shake that feeling of disdain whenever she looked like she just didn’t have the guts.
“What the fuck were you expecting, Emily?” But, then Katie had forgotten. Emily did have the guts, and she saw it flare up in her eyes again, the same as it did right before she hit her, right on the bloody healing wound in her head. Katie almost flinched at the memory, chewed loudly again to hide it.
“Fuck’s sake Katie, you know what. We agreed, together, that this wasn’t something I could change.”
Katie sighed. “So?”
“So come out with us.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
When Katie didn’t respond, she felt Emily’s gaze burning into the top of her head. And, why the fuck not? She hadn’t been out in ages. Getting properly fucked could just be the way forward out of this rut or whatever the fuck it was she was in.
“Fine.” She could almost feel the grin that spread across Emily’s face.
“Cool. She’ll be here at seven with vodka.”
Katie didn’t need to ask who.
****
Neither of them had smiled at each other when Katie opened the door, yet somehow seemed to manage not to sneer completely either.
Katie had been about to say something brilliant and cutting when Emily had practically bounded up to them and thrown herself at Naomi, who at least had the courtesy of looking a bit uncomfortable to be snogging in front of her girlfriend’s sister. Who, for the record, still hates her guts.
Naomi pulled away first and caught Katie’s eye. She expected her to be all ‘and what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ but she just wasn’t and Katie wasn’t sure what to do with a humble Naomi so she took the vodka from the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Emily and unscrewed the cap on the way to the kitchen.
****
As it turned out, the club proved to be a bit too much for Katie. Head fuzzy from vodka, and some cider, and a shot of something green, she weaved her way through the people. They were like a sea, as they moved together, and Katie was just preparing herself for an unruly wave to catch her unawares and leave her sinking beneath the surface.
Her chest moved up and down as she realised she was panicking. She couldn’t hear her own breath but she knew it must be fast and heavy. She looked to the floor, thinking that if she could just block them out for a moment, she would calm down. But the lights continued to flash and the sea remained tumultuous. Just as she started to give in, to accept that she was drowning, someone offered her a lifeline.
A hand grasped her wrist and pulled her away. She let it lead her without question to the back of the club and out of the door towards the beer garden. Along the way, somewhere, she realised that it was Naomi who had hold of her. And that was both okay and not okay.
Katie was about to snap at her and ask what the fuck she was doing when Naomi, propped back against a brick wall, thrust a pack of cigarettes in Katie’s direction.
“Fancied a fag. Thought you might too.”
Katie’s first feeling was gratitude. Naomi wasn’t going to make an Emily-esque deal out of it. Her second was confusion. She took a cigarette, mumbling her thanks.
“Where’s Emily?” she asked as Naomi leaned forward to light Katie’s for her, gently touching Katie’s hand as they shielded the flame from the wind together. Katie shuddered.
“She saw JJ and went to say hi.” Naomi said and if Katie didn’t know that it was taking Naomi every ounce of self control to let that just happen she would have thought she didn’t give a shit in the slightest.
“And, what? You’re okay with that?” Katie tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice but she wasn’t quite sure she had achieved it. She didn’t want a fight, not when her blood was still pumping a little too quickly through her veins, but she just didn’t get it. How was Naomi okay with this?
“I trust her.” It was as simple as that. Naomi clearly fucking hated it, but there was no more to it than that. Besides, you would have to be pretty fucking insecure to be jealous of that moron.
They smoked silently for a few minutes; Katie perched on a wooden bench, relieved to rest her legs for a moment. She knew she looked amazing in her heels but there was no point permanently damaging yourself. She might have explained this to Naomi if she wasn’t completely certain that Naomi wasn’t already permanently damaged in the fashion department.
She would have smirked if Emily hadn’t shown up then with JJ and Freddie in tow. It struck Katie that she hadn’t even thought about Freddie when Naomi mentioned JJ, and had been far too concerned with thinking about... well.
Obviously, she was concerned that Naomi was about to throw some kind of hysterical fit about her girlfriend socialising with the only boy she’d ever fucked, and who was clearly now completely besotted with her. So she was just worried about that. She didn’t really want to be on the receiving end of an Emily and Naomi related fist fight, not so soon after the last one, anyway.
Katie said hi to them both anyway. She was still a bit shell-shocked from what had happened to her - it was all a bit fast, really. One moment being inside the club, feeling entirely closed in, to being outside the club with her (former?) nemesis of sorts. She had held Katie’s wrist firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.
She wondered, as they all had another fag (excluding JJ, who prattled on about the logistics of the part time job he had for the summer), if Naomi’s fingers had left a mark on her skin. She was able to look as the others tried to follow JJ’s line of thinking, and was surprised to feel almost disappointed that she hadn’t.
****
They headed home not long after that. Katie wasn’t exactly feeling much like dancing, and the wounded looks that Freddie kept throwing in her direction were turning her stomach.
No-one had really told Katie much about what was going on with the others, partly because she hadn’t asked, and partly because she suspected that they thought she was too fragile to cope with it. She could have, of course. She just felt no inclination to get caught up in their pathetic little soap opera.
Effy had yet to show her ridiculous face. Lucky for her, Katie thought.
At their doorstep, Katie was about to put her key in the door when Emily left Naomi at the curb and announced that they were staying at her house. Katie could hardly believe she’d forgotten that that was going to happen anyway and that they were just walking her home out of something like pity or fucking (over) protectiveness or whatever.
As Emily turned away from her, Katie saw Naomi look past Emily and directly at her. She couldn’t quite read her expression, but she guessed it was something like ‘sorry’. And, while an apology would be fucking gratifying coming from Naomi, she didn’t want one for this. Katie wasn’t quite that pathetic yet.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and went inside, glad to be fucking shot of the pair of them.
****
They didn’t invite her out again over the next few weeks of summer. Katie spent a lot of time holding her breath, wondering if she was relieved at that fact or offended at their evasiveness. Either way, she wished she didn’t care so fucking much.
****
Because it was sunny, anyway, and the light was attacking Katie through the curtains regardless of whether she wanted it to or not, she decided to get dressed.
She had been doing very little of that, post-Love Ball, post-public humiliation and more recently post-near-panic attack. The whole thing had reeked of five years ago, the thing at the ball. Katie had tried to save her sister - again - but this time she was the one who had had to look at the ground as Emily looked her in the eye. And told her that she loved Naomi. And then Naomi had taken her place and led Emily away.
Well, fuck them, then. They were fucking welcome to each other.
The clothes in her wardrobe were the same as they had always been. But they fitted the old Katie now, not this shadow-Katie.
No-one had even so much as glanced in the general vicinity of her tits in weeks now, not after Freddie. And what the fuck would he know about tits, anyway. Everyone could see what his taste was and, well, Katie was just a bit more filled out in those areas. In a good way, she knew that. So, fuck Freddie and his flat-titted slut girlfriend as well.
Sighing, she realised that she didn’t even have enough anger in her to hate them for being together, either, and pulled out a top that looked like it was Emily’s. It was Emily’s, obviously, because it covered everything. So, fine. No-one was looking anyway.
A skirt that matched was easy to find - brown is so accommodating in terms of colour co-ordinating - and when she was clothed she surveyed herself in the mirror. Fucking hell. If she didn’t smile soon then her face was going to fucking stay like this. Jesus. She tried it, a little. It hurt her face and just reinforced the anti-Katie.
Her hair, she realised, she hadn’t bothered to curl for ages. She might as well be Emily. She chuckled to herself. Finally. A little bit of Emily-bashing always used to do the trick. It was short-lived, though, when she realised that Emily was still gone.
****
The sound of shooting from the living room told her that James was home, their parents at work and unable to get someone else to look after the little fucker during the summer holidays.
She didn’t bother going in. The only time she ever really felt the need to communicate with him was to tell him to fuck off or to... well, that was it actually. And she didn’t particularly fancy having another sibling smackdown anytime soon.
Protein shakes lined the cupboards, which made Katie wince with the memory of how they actually tasted, and it was too early to delve into her secret stash of wine and vodka, so she poured herself a glass of water and stood looking out of the kitchen window.
She felt like a fraud, in the clothes she was wearing, and wondered how Emily coped with feeling so enclosed. But she figured it was what lesbians wore, so what the fuck. On Katie, they just felt to her like she was in mourning.
The doorbell rang shrilly throughout the house and Katie didn’t even flinch. No-one ever came round to see her anyway, so it must be for James. He can fucking get it, then.
She heard his hurried ‘Hello!’ and then the thundering of his footsteps back to the living room, and then the door click shut quietly behind whoever it was that was joining him for an afternoon of car stealing and innocent bystander-shooting. All virtual, obviously. Hopefully.
Closing her eyes and drifting off for a second, she didn’t quite hear the visitor enter the kitchen and approach her from behind until it was too late.
Arms wrapped around her waist - slender, pale, feminine arms.
Katie froze, her ‘get the fuck off me’ caught in her throat.
“You’re back early. I was expecting to have to field a bunch of invasive fanny-based questions from your brother.” A kiss to the side of her face and a finger tracing lazily across her stomach made it do a weird sort of flip.
Katie turned her head. Naomi jumped back as though burnt.
The look of shock on Naomi’s face was enough to snap Katie out of hers and she burst out laughing.
“Fuck me, Campbell! Your fucking face...”
“Fucking... Katie? Jesus.” Naomi looked disgusted with herself, and, while yeah, so she should, there was also ‘oh’ and ‘am I really that repulsive?’ But, of course not, because Naomi loved Emily and it was just that once again Naomi hadn’t known.
“Not the first time you’ve confused us from behind.” Katie, experimenting with smiling all over the place now, raised her eyebrow. It felt forced. She hoped it didn’t look it.
Fortunately, Naomi laughed as well, then, and shook her head.
“Right, well. That time you were trying. This time you’re just,” Naomi waved her hands around, questioning Katie’s obviously Emily outfit. “What? All your leopard print in the wash?”
Turning back around, more to give herself a minute to calm down if anything (she realised she was shaking) she took another sip of water. She could manage this, this friendly banter, if you could ever call it that. It was fine. But it was easier to not be looking directly at Naomi. It was the eyes, again. Bright and blue and accusing, almost. She took a (hopefully invisible) deep breath, and faced her again, clutching her water.
“No. Emily’s borrowed them all. I thought she could do with a little push-up, y’know? I’m sure even you appreciate tits when they’re a little bit more well-presented.”
She realised she had said the wrong thing when Naomi coloured and her eyes darted away. ‘Oh God, she’s actually borrowed my fucking clothes, to like...’
The thought stopped there. Naomi caught Katie’s eye again and looked like she was about to speak, opening and closing her mouth and shifting nervously onto her other foot, as the front door opened.
Emily called from the hallway as Katie held Naomi’s gaze a second longer than she was comfortable with. Katie forced an eye roll and stalked past Naomi, giving her an even wider berth than usual and then past her sister who looked at her almost pleadingly as she ascended the stairs.
“What’s up with her?” Katie heard Emily ask as she reached her bedroom door, pausing to listen. “Is she wearing my fucking clothes?!” Emily sounded more entertained than annoyed. Bitch.
Naomi must have shaken her head or shrugged or something because Katie heard no reply, only a silence before the murmur of ‘Missed you’ reached her ears. It was too soft for her to know which one said it. And she didn’t fucking care.
****
Her dreams, that night, were vivid. After Emily and Naomi had disappeared together, fuck knows where, she turned out all of the lights and waited for sleep.
It didn’t come easy, and when she flipped through her selection of fashion magazines she realised that they were all so out of date (how could Peter and Katie break up?! She still couldn’t quite come to terms with it) that she had read them through twice.
Glancing over at Emily’s side of the room it struck her, as it had done that first time and had continued to do so on the odd occasion since, how many signs there were that Emily was gay. Like, really fucking gay. She wondered how she could have ever missed the fact that her sister had no interest in men whatsoever (JJ notwithstanding because, come on, really?) and was just biding her time until she could...
Naomi. Katie sighed and rolled over onto her back, slamming her head down onto her pillow a little too fast. It didn’t hurt, but every time something knocked her harder than she’d expected, she winced.
What was it, she wondered, that had made her freeze this evening when Naomi touched her? Why didn’t she immediately pull away and call her a dyke-freak and stomp off? Old Katie would have done it in a heartbeat. Old Katie would have fucking smacked her for even getting close, and then smacked her again for not knowing, just not instinctively knowing, that she was Katie and not Emily.
It was probably, really, just the shock of it. The shock of someone being close - someone taller, and bigger and... What?
Perhaps she just reminded her of Freddie. Katie scrunched her face up at the thought. No. Perhaps, and, oh, if this was true, perhaps she reminded her of Effy. Too strong, skinny arms around her, a head on her shoulder, seeking her out when she was weakest.
But, no. She knew, if Effy ever came anywhere near her, that she would move away. She wouldn’t want to, of course, for fear of seeming weak, but she just knew that being close to Effy would be like being close to death, and she’d had enough of that for the minute, thanks very fucking much.
So, Katie knew, if any part of her had felt like she was near Effy, she would have jumped away, and fucking fast.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ she muttered, turning her face into her pillow.
It didn’t take her long at all to know it was Naomi. It could only have been Naomi. So why the fuck didn’t she move?
Turning it over in her brain seemed to solve nothing, so she settled for thinking of it as being comforting. The way Emily had used to hug her. The way Emily hadn’t for ages. It was enough, for now.
She fell asleep with a hand on her own stomach, close to where Naomi’s had been hours before, and the thought in her head that, ok, fuck it - it was just nice.
****
Katie dreamed often of Effy and that night in the woods.
Effy was always standing over her, blood already on her hands. She would whisper to Katie about it not hurting, that it wouldn’t hurt a bit, and she would just take him off her hands.
Tonight, though, it was Naomi in the woods. She kept glancing backwards towards an Emily that wasn’t there. She said she was sorry, and she wouldn’t hurt her, hurt Katie, And, then she had reached out and pulled Katie towards her and whispered in her ear that she wouldn’t take Emily away, not really. Katie let herself be held.
Even in the dream, Katie felt like she was suffocating, and woke up gasping for breath glancing momentarily at the space where her sister used to be before closing her eyes as she thought of the place where her sister now belonged.
Chapter Two
Anyway! Hope you like it. And, just to point out - all views expressed here are my interpretation of Katie's views. I love all the Skins characters dearly. Even Freddie.
Title: In Keeping Secrets
Chapter: In Keeping Secrets...
Pairing: Katie, Naomi/Emily
Rating: R for quite a lot of Katie Fitch swearing
Word Count: 5000
Disclaimer: The characters of Katie Fitch, Naomi Campbell, Emily Fitch, Effy Stonem, Pandora Moon, JJ Jones and Freddie McLair most certainly do not belong to me, but I'm borrowing them and their world for a bit. Hope that's ok.
Summary: Jealous envy for the youngest one, to be the hero is all I'll ask.
When she thinks back on it, now, she reckons that the first time she actually, properly thought her sister might be gay was when she saw them together on the bouncy castle in Pandora’s garden.
The time that she saw them, before, she was drunk and angry that some boy at the party had felt her up and then run off back to his friends when they shouted at him that two girls were snogging in the garden. Katie had just stood there in the dark, her bra bunched up over her left breast and her lipstick smudged.
“Fucking great,” she muttered, readjusting herself before following the throng of boys leering and leaning on each other to see them through the window. Barging her way between them all to get a look at the fucking lesbians who had taken the attention away from her (and it had to be fucking good to draw someone away from her fucking spectacular tits, because that just never happens) and leave her hanging.
At first, she couldn’t move. She was certain that it couldn’t be Emily but then was absolutely positive that it was.
Her eyes narrowed as the girl, who she recognised as Naomi, the opinionated hippie and fucking fashion disaster they shared a few classes with, snaked her fingers round the back of her sister’s neck and held her there. She decided, right then, that it was Naomi’s fault, this fucking... whatever it was. Fucking farce of a kiss.
(She chose to ignore how Emily pushed back against Naomi’s lips with more fervour than she had ever witnessed before, with more intensity than she had ever seen her sister exhibit, and the way her sister’s own hands were clasped tightly around Naomi’s waist, fingers almost clawing at the fabric of her oversized shirt.)
As laughter bubbled up around her, she made a second decision. One which, now, she almost wishes she could unmake.
Muttering, “Right,” and shoving more angrily, then, Katie elbowed some lanky twat in the ribs, ignoring his ‘Hey!’, and flung open the back door and watched as her sister and that girl broke away from each other, the sound of their lips smacking apart punctuated by a sharp gasp from Emily as they stood.
Emily, the complete fucking dweeb that she is - was - just stood there as Naomi stumbled backwards slightly, clearly a lot drunker than her sister. Her eyes were bright blue, Katie noticed, even in the darkness, even half-shut with what Katie imagined to be a mixture of drunken confusion and... well. Something. A thing Katie had only seen in the eyes of boys - boys too close to her face, pressed against her and breathing heavily.
It seemed to last, that moment. Where they all surveyed each other, waiting to see who would break the silence. In reality, it happened much faster than Katie remembered, but each moment was etched into her memory.
Finally, as it seemed, Emily was the one who cracked first, the quiet, half-whispered, “Katie...” that escaped her lips angering Katie further.
Later, much later, she knew that it was her sister’s complete inability to stand up to her that pushed her over the edge, to undeservedly tar Naomi with a brush that should have been meant for Emily and, by association, Katie herself.
Not that she would have ever ever wanted that but it was her or them and she was selfish. It was selfish, of both of them. And when Emily gave in to being not as good, to stooping to Katie’s level, it stung, because it wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.
The look of shame directed at Katie then, from eyes so similar to her own, was enough. Even if Emily had been part of this, somehow, it must have been Naomi who made it happen. Naomi who, even now, was staring. Not at the recipient of her kiss, but at the one who interrupted it. She saw the confusion there. “Katie...?” she repeated, leaving it hanging like a question.
She was drunk, they all were, but the way Naomi said it had hit Katie in the gut. Almost like she didn’t even know who Katie was. Katie, the popular one, the sexy one, the interesting one, and this girl didn’t know. She must have known her really, how could she not? But it made Katie wish, then, that she could pretend that she didn’t know who Naomi was either.
Katie clenched her jaw tight and turned her attention back to her sister before taking the last few steps towards her and grabbing her arm. Emily - fucking Emily - didn’t even try to shrug her off, just watched as Naomi’s drunken confusion deepened, and, for the first time, noticing the crowd that had gathered at the kitchen window and were trickling out of the back door.
They didn’t go far, just out of earshot of the gaggle, who had started a quiet murmur amongst themselves.
She was incensed with how pathetic her sister was. And how she let herself be seen doing... that. How Emily even stayed put as it happened. It all came out wrong, though. In a series of ‘What the FUCK?!’s and ‘You stupid fucking cow’s, all slithering away into the darkness as Emily stared at Naomi and then at the floor.
It was unrelenting, the anger, as Emily still said nothing.
“How could you let some stupid dyke bitch do that? Do you know that everyone was fucking laughing at you, Emily?” She still had hold of her sister’s wrist, her grip too hard, probably. It was why she didn’t notice that Naomi had stumbled over to them, protesting against something. Katie wondered if she really knew was it was she fighting for, this time.
“Hey...” it was slurred and quiet. “Hey, Katie. Don’t... don’t do that.”
“And you can just back the fuck off, Naomi, all right? I fucking saw what you did to my sister, we all saw.” She was spitting now. She didn’t care.
Naomi reeled back as if Katie had punched her and, good, because that could be the way the evening was going to turn out anyway.
“What, no... I didn’t. Emily...?”
Katie saw it. Naomi saw it, too, as she stood by her side. Too close, Katie thought, it’s always too close. They watched as Emily, tears in her fucking eyes that were too alike, too Katie and yet not at all, they watched as she shook her head and looked away.
She felt Naomi stiffen and sober up all in one motion. Turning to her, armed with a smirk and the knowledge that Emily would always acquiesce, Katie knew she had won. She didn’t really feel like she had to explain it to Naomi, but she just wanted to, so she told her.
“There. I think that pretty much sums it up.” Katie released her hold on Emily’s wrist, who immediately brought her hand to cover her mouth, probably to mute a sob, as she shook her head, fringe too long and obscuring her eyes. Katie was relieved. It was always easier when the duplicate of her face was looking away in the moments where it was afraid and vulnerable. It would have made it harder to keep from stopping.
“If I ever catch you near my sister again, I will fucking hurt you. Do you understand, you fucking stupid dyke?”
Clearly too shocked to speak, Naomi just stood. Katie watched her, as she watched Emily who just would not look up. She wasn’t leaping to her defence and Naomi knew it. When she spoke, she spoke to Emily.
“Fine. Not a fucking problem,” was all she said before sauntering back towards the house and walking silently through the ridiculous boys who jeered at her as she went.
Better her than Emily, Katie thought. Better her than me.
As the last trace of blonde hair disappeared into the crowd, Katie realised that her sister was, in fact, sobbing her face off and, fuck, if that wasn’t enough to rile her up over again.
“And you can fucking thank me later. We’re going home.” Katie followed where Naomi had carved a path, her sister shadowing her, eyes to the ground, as per usual.
They didn’t talk about it. Because talking about it would have made it real. And Katie didn’t want to remember, even when they saw Naomi at school and Katie glared and Naomi scowled and Emily cowered. And that’s just the way it was.
Which was why, when Katie saw them, Emily on top, Naomi’s hands reaching up to pull her in closer, she really knew that what she’d done had been wrong. And her sister was... right.
But, oh she was high. They all were. But, Naomi hated them. She hated Katie for being a huge cunt, and she hated Emily for being a pathetic loser but... obviously not. Because she had laughed with Katie and now she was kissing Emily. Again.
Unlike the last time they were snogging outside at a party, no-one watching through the window had laughed.
Luckily, then, her stupid useless lump of a boyfriend had shown up and everything had gone tits-up anyway so she didn’t have time to think about it.
****
Since that evening, of course, everything had begun to slowly unravel. She lost the tenuous grip on the thread that had connected her to her sister for the past 17 years, as well as her usually tight hold on reality.
Between rock-wielding freaks, useless stoner boyfriends and smitten gay sisters everything just seemed to stop working for Katie. The blows had seemed to come from all angles with no space in between for recovery.
Marks cover up, apparently. Katie thinks that this is code for ‘bruises don’t ever really heal, but go ahead and try to hide them anyway’.
****
There were days when she realised that she had no idea where Emily was. The fact that she knew who she was with didn’t make anything any better.
She covered for her, because she said she would. And why the fuck not? Like having her mum going on at her about Emily being gay would improve her mood. It might make her a little less inclined to be house-bound, but then that wasn’t really appealing either.
Their room was quiet, taunting. Filled with silence that had once been laughter, bitching, fighting. Any of that would have been better than this, Katie thought, as she chucked a book from her side of the room onto her sister’s empty and untouched bed.
Probably more lesbian porn, Katie reckoned, but then remembered Naomi and realised that Emily probably didn’t even need porn any more. Not when she was so clearly getting laid on a regular basis. Whatever it was that made Katie hate her, she couldn’t help but respect Naomi for putting that smug little smile on Emily’s face.
Not that thinking about her sister and her girlfriend fucking was a regular occurrence but, well, Katie fucking liked sex, and if the person you were having sex with was actually good at it, then that, in Katie’s vast book on things that she knew, was something to be admired. Even if it was still disgusting.
****
One afternoon, about two weeks after the Love Ball, Emily cornered her in the kitchen, fresh salad in hand.
For a moment, she just stood there, in that pathetic Emily way of hers, waiting for some silent message to pass between them. As clued in as Katie was about many things, she still couldn’t read her sister’s mind. She couldn’t decide if this was a good or bad thing.
“What?” It was snappier than she had intended, but Emily just made her do it sometimes. Just the way she looked like some kind of homeless puppy, all wide-eyed and... whatever. It would just be nice if there was a conversation they could have where Emily didn’t look like this and Katie didn’t get angry.
When Emily didn’t speak, Katie took her bowl to the table and sat down. Emily joined her.
“Look, Katie...” she started but Katie didn’t look up, just continued to crunch loudly on celery and lettuce and cucumber. “Things haven’t exactly been... well, they’re not the way I wanted them to be. I thought they were going to be...”
“What?”
“Better.” Katie snapped her head up to see her sister almost wringing her hands. And, fuck, she didn’t like it when Emily was upset but still she couldn’t shake that feeling of disdain whenever she looked like she just didn’t have the guts.
“What the fuck were you expecting, Emily?” But, then Katie had forgotten. Emily did have the guts, and she saw it flare up in her eyes again, the same as it did right before she hit her, right on the bloody healing wound in her head. Katie almost flinched at the memory, chewed loudly again to hide it.
“Fuck’s sake Katie, you know what. We agreed, together, that this wasn’t something I could change.”
Katie sighed. “So?”
“So come out with us.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
When Katie didn’t respond, she felt Emily’s gaze burning into the top of her head. And, why the fuck not? She hadn’t been out in ages. Getting properly fucked could just be the way forward out of this rut or whatever the fuck it was she was in.
“Fine.” She could almost feel the grin that spread across Emily’s face.
“Cool. She’ll be here at seven with vodka.”
Katie didn’t need to ask who.
****
Neither of them had smiled at each other when Katie opened the door, yet somehow seemed to manage not to sneer completely either.
Katie had been about to say something brilliant and cutting when Emily had practically bounded up to them and thrown herself at Naomi, who at least had the courtesy of looking a bit uncomfortable to be snogging in front of her girlfriend’s sister. Who, for the record, still hates her guts.
Naomi pulled away first and caught Katie’s eye. She expected her to be all ‘and what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ but she just wasn’t and Katie wasn’t sure what to do with a humble Naomi so she took the vodka from the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Emily and unscrewed the cap on the way to the kitchen.
****
As it turned out, the club proved to be a bit too much for Katie. Head fuzzy from vodka, and some cider, and a shot of something green, she weaved her way through the people. They were like a sea, as they moved together, and Katie was just preparing herself for an unruly wave to catch her unawares and leave her sinking beneath the surface.
Her chest moved up and down as she realised she was panicking. She couldn’t hear her own breath but she knew it must be fast and heavy. She looked to the floor, thinking that if she could just block them out for a moment, she would calm down. But the lights continued to flash and the sea remained tumultuous. Just as she started to give in, to accept that she was drowning, someone offered her a lifeline.
A hand grasped her wrist and pulled her away. She let it lead her without question to the back of the club and out of the door towards the beer garden. Along the way, somewhere, she realised that it was Naomi who had hold of her. And that was both okay and not okay.
Katie was about to snap at her and ask what the fuck she was doing when Naomi, propped back against a brick wall, thrust a pack of cigarettes in Katie’s direction.
“Fancied a fag. Thought you might too.”
Katie’s first feeling was gratitude. Naomi wasn’t going to make an Emily-esque deal out of it. Her second was confusion. She took a cigarette, mumbling her thanks.
“Where’s Emily?” she asked as Naomi leaned forward to light Katie’s for her, gently touching Katie’s hand as they shielded the flame from the wind together. Katie shuddered.
“She saw JJ and went to say hi.” Naomi said and if Katie didn’t know that it was taking Naomi every ounce of self control to let that just happen she would have thought she didn’t give a shit in the slightest.
“And, what? You’re okay with that?” Katie tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice but she wasn’t quite sure she had achieved it. She didn’t want a fight, not when her blood was still pumping a little too quickly through her veins, but she just didn’t get it. How was Naomi okay with this?
“I trust her.” It was as simple as that. Naomi clearly fucking hated it, but there was no more to it than that. Besides, you would have to be pretty fucking insecure to be jealous of that moron.
They smoked silently for a few minutes; Katie perched on a wooden bench, relieved to rest her legs for a moment. She knew she looked amazing in her heels but there was no point permanently damaging yourself. She might have explained this to Naomi if she wasn’t completely certain that Naomi wasn’t already permanently damaged in the fashion department.
She would have smirked if Emily hadn’t shown up then with JJ and Freddie in tow. It struck Katie that she hadn’t even thought about Freddie when Naomi mentioned JJ, and had been far too concerned with thinking about... well.
Obviously, she was concerned that Naomi was about to throw some kind of hysterical fit about her girlfriend socialising with the only boy she’d ever fucked, and who was clearly now completely besotted with her. So she was just worried about that. She didn’t really want to be on the receiving end of an Emily and Naomi related fist fight, not so soon after the last one, anyway.
Katie said hi to them both anyway. She was still a bit shell-shocked from what had happened to her - it was all a bit fast, really. One moment being inside the club, feeling entirely closed in, to being outside the club with her (former?) nemesis of sorts. She had held Katie’s wrist firmly, but not hard enough to hurt.
She wondered, as they all had another fag (excluding JJ, who prattled on about the logistics of the part time job he had for the summer), if Naomi’s fingers had left a mark on her skin. She was able to look as the others tried to follow JJ’s line of thinking, and was surprised to feel almost disappointed that she hadn’t.
****
They headed home not long after that. Katie wasn’t exactly feeling much like dancing, and the wounded looks that Freddie kept throwing in her direction were turning her stomach.
No-one had really told Katie much about what was going on with the others, partly because she hadn’t asked, and partly because she suspected that they thought she was too fragile to cope with it. She could have, of course. She just felt no inclination to get caught up in their pathetic little soap opera.
Effy had yet to show her ridiculous face. Lucky for her, Katie thought.
At their doorstep, Katie was about to put her key in the door when Emily left Naomi at the curb and announced that they were staying at her house. Katie could hardly believe she’d forgotten that that was going to happen anyway and that they were just walking her home out of something like pity or fucking (over) protectiveness or whatever.
As Emily turned away from her, Katie saw Naomi look past Emily and directly at her. She couldn’t quite read her expression, but she guessed it was something like ‘sorry’. And, while an apology would be fucking gratifying coming from Naomi, she didn’t want one for this. Katie wasn’t quite that pathetic yet.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and went inside, glad to be fucking shot of the pair of them.
****
They didn’t invite her out again over the next few weeks of summer. Katie spent a lot of time holding her breath, wondering if she was relieved at that fact or offended at their evasiveness. Either way, she wished she didn’t care so fucking much.
****
Because it was sunny, anyway, and the light was attacking Katie through the curtains regardless of whether she wanted it to or not, she decided to get dressed.
She had been doing very little of that, post-Love Ball, post-public humiliation and more recently post-near-panic attack. The whole thing had reeked of five years ago, the thing at the ball. Katie had tried to save her sister - again - but this time she was the one who had had to look at the ground as Emily looked her in the eye. And told her that she loved Naomi. And then Naomi had taken her place and led Emily away.
Well, fuck them, then. They were fucking welcome to each other.
The clothes in her wardrobe were the same as they had always been. But they fitted the old Katie now, not this shadow-Katie.
No-one had even so much as glanced in the general vicinity of her tits in weeks now, not after Freddie. And what the fuck would he know about tits, anyway. Everyone could see what his taste was and, well, Katie was just a bit more filled out in those areas. In a good way, she knew that. So, fuck Freddie and his flat-titted slut girlfriend as well.
Sighing, she realised that she didn’t even have enough anger in her to hate them for being together, either, and pulled out a top that looked like it was Emily’s. It was Emily’s, obviously, because it covered everything. So, fine. No-one was looking anyway.
A skirt that matched was easy to find - brown is so accommodating in terms of colour co-ordinating - and when she was clothed she surveyed herself in the mirror. Fucking hell. If she didn’t smile soon then her face was going to fucking stay like this. Jesus. She tried it, a little. It hurt her face and just reinforced the anti-Katie.
Her hair, she realised, she hadn’t bothered to curl for ages. She might as well be Emily. She chuckled to herself. Finally. A little bit of Emily-bashing always used to do the trick. It was short-lived, though, when she realised that Emily was still gone.
****
The sound of shooting from the living room told her that James was home, their parents at work and unable to get someone else to look after the little fucker during the summer holidays.
She didn’t bother going in. The only time she ever really felt the need to communicate with him was to tell him to fuck off or to... well, that was it actually. And she didn’t particularly fancy having another sibling smackdown anytime soon.
Protein shakes lined the cupboards, which made Katie wince with the memory of how they actually tasted, and it was too early to delve into her secret stash of wine and vodka, so she poured herself a glass of water and stood looking out of the kitchen window.
She felt like a fraud, in the clothes she was wearing, and wondered how Emily coped with feeling so enclosed. But she figured it was what lesbians wore, so what the fuck. On Katie, they just felt to her like she was in mourning.
The doorbell rang shrilly throughout the house and Katie didn’t even flinch. No-one ever came round to see her anyway, so it must be for James. He can fucking get it, then.
She heard his hurried ‘Hello!’ and then the thundering of his footsteps back to the living room, and then the door click shut quietly behind whoever it was that was joining him for an afternoon of car stealing and innocent bystander-shooting. All virtual, obviously. Hopefully.
Closing her eyes and drifting off for a second, she didn’t quite hear the visitor enter the kitchen and approach her from behind until it was too late.
Arms wrapped around her waist - slender, pale, feminine arms.
Katie froze, her ‘get the fuck off me’ caught in her throat.
“You’re back early. I was expecting to have to field a bunch of invasive fanny-based questions from your brother.” A kiss to the side of her face and a finger tracing lazily across her stomach made it do a weird sort of flip.
Katie turned her head. Naomi jumped back as though burnt.
The look of shock on Naomi’s face was enough to snap Katie out of hers and she burst out laughing.
“Fuck me, Campbell! Your fucking face...”
“Fucking... Katie? Jesus.” Naomi looked disgusted with herself, and, while yeah, so she should, there was also ‘oh’ and ‘am I really that repulsive?’ But, of course not, because Naomi loved Emily and it was just that once again Naomi hadn’t known.
“Not the first time you’ve confused us from behind.” Katie, experimenting with smiling all over the place now, raised her eyebrow. It felt forced. She hoped it didn’t look it.
Fortunately, Naomi laughed as well, then, and shook her head.
“Right, well. That time you were trying. This time you’re just,” Naomi waved her hands around, questioning Katie’s obviously Emily outfit. “What? All your leopard print in the wash?”
Turning back around, more to give herself a minute to calm down if anything (she realised she was shaking) she took another sip of water. She could manage this, this friendly banter, if you could ever call it that. It was fine. But it was easier to not be looking directly at Naomi. It was the eyes, again. Bright and blue and accusing, almost. She took a (hopefully invisible) deep breath, and faced her again, clutching her water.
“No. Emily’s borrowed them all. I thought she could do with a little push-up, y’know? I’m sure even you appreciate tits when they’re a little bit more well-presented.”
She realised she had said the wrong thing when Naomi coloured and her eyes darted away. ‘Oh God, she’s actually borrowed my fucking clothes, to like...’
The thought stopped there. Naomi caught Katie’s eye again and looked like she was about to speak, opening and closing her mouth and shifting nervously onto her other foot, as the front door opened.
Emily called from the hallway as Katie held Naomi’s gaze a second longer than she was comfortable with. Katie forced an eye roll and stalked past Naomi, giving her an even wider berth than usual and then past her sister who looked at her almost pleadingly as she ascended the stairs.
“What’s up with her?” Katie heard Emily ask as she reached her bedroom door, pausing to listen. “Is she wearing my fucking clothes?!” Emily sounded more entertained than annoyed. Bitch.
Naomi must have shaken her head or shrugged or something because Katie heard no reply, only a silence before the murmur of ‘Missed you’ reached her ears. It was too soft for her to know which one said it. And she didn’t fucking care.
****
Her dreams, that night, were vivid. After Emily and Naomi had disappeared together, fuck knows where, she turned out all of the lights and waited for sleep.
It didn’t come easy, and when she flipped through her selection of fashion magazines she realised that they were all so out of date (how could Peter and Katie break up?! She still couldn’t quite come to terms with it) that she had read them through twice.
Glancing over at Emily’s side of the room it struck her, as it had done that first time and had continued to do so on the odd occasion since, how many signs there were that Emily was gay. Like, really fucking gay. She wondered how she could have ever missed the fact that her sister had no interest in men whatsoever (JJ notwithstanding because, come on, really?) and was just biding her time until she could...
Naomi. Katie sighed and rolled over onto her back, slamming her head down onto her pillow a little too fast. It didn’t hurt, but every time something knocked her harder than she’d expected, she winced.
What was it, she wondered, that had made her freeze this evening when Naomi touched her? Why didn’t she immediately pull away and call her a dyke-freak and stomp off? Old Katie would have done it in a heartbeat. Old Katie would have fucking smacked her for even getting close, and then smacked her again for not knowing, just not instinctively knowing, that she was Katie and not Emily.
It was probably, really, just the shock of it. The shock of someone being close - someone taller, and bigger and... What?
Perhaps she just reminded her of Freddie. Katie scrunched her face up at the thought. No. Perhaps, and, oh, if this was true, perhaps she reminded her of Effy. Too strong, skinny arms around her, a head on her shoulder, seeking her out when she was weakest.
But, no. She knew, if Effy ever came anywhere near her, that she would move away. She wouldn’t want to, of course, for fear of seeming weak, but she just knew that being close to Effy would be like being close to death, and she’d had enough of that for the minute, thanks very fucking much.
So, Katie knew, if any part of her had felt like she was near Effy, she would have jumped away, and fucking fast.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ she muttered, turning her face into her pillow.
It didn’t take her long at all to know it was Naomi. It could only have been Naomi. So why the fuck didn’t she move?
Turning it over in her brain seemed to solve nothing, so she settled for thinking of it as being comforting. The way Emily had used to hug her. The way Emily hadn’t for ages. It was enough, for now.
She fell asleep with a hand on her own stomach, close to where Naomi’s had been hours before, and the thought in her head that, ok, fuck it - it was just nice.
****
Katie dreamed often of Effy and that night in the woods.
Effy was always standing over her, blood already on her hands. She would whisper to Katie about it not hurting, that it wouldn’t hurt a bit, and she would just take him off her hands.
Tonight, though, it was Naomi in the woods. She kept glancing backwards towards an Emily that wasn’t there. She said she was sorry, and she wouldn’t hurt her, hurt Katie, And, then she had reached out and pulled Katie towards her and whispered in her ear that she wouldn’t take Emily away, not really. Katie let herself be held.
Even in the dream, Katie felt like she was suffocating, and woke up gasping for breath glancing momentarily at the space where her sister used to be before closing her eyes as she thought of the place where her sister now belonged.
Chapter Two