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Gale's justification for drinking from the bottle is that her hand shakes too much for a glass, and she doesn't want red wine stains on Sidney's guest bedding.
Sidney has no justification. She just follows Gale's lead, sprawled out with her hair fanning over a pillowcase she and Mark picked out from Pottery Barn a few years ago, when they first moved into this house.
"Is it always that bad?" she asks, looking at the fine trembling in Gale's fingers.
"No," Gale says. She holds her own hand up in front of her and stares at it. "It's not usually this bad. It's worse when I'm tired, or stressed."
"What, this stresses you out?" Sidney lifts an eyebrow at her. "Shouldn't it be old hat by now?"
"You'd think," Gale says. "Anyway, you're right, I shouldn't be stressed. I didn't even make it to the unmasking this time."
Sidney makes a dismissive sound, then lifts her head off the pillow to drink more wine as Gale hands her the bottle. She licks the bitterness from her lips and says, "Honestly, you didn't miss much. Is it just me, or are the killers getting stupider each time this happens?"
"I don't know," Gale says, sighing. "I think the real Stu was pretty fucking stupid. But maybe it's just that we're getting older. They're not impressing us anymore. And the motives are just - what the fuck? These people didn't even care about you. They're just fucking... psychotic motherfuckers who want an excuse to stab people."
Sidney sighs. "I don't know. I think Jessica was like, obsessed with me."
"Who isn't?" Gale asks. "You're Sidney fucking Prescott."
Sidney giggles. "This is why I need you, Gale. I can't talk about this with anyone else the same way."
"No one else has been through it all with you," Gale says.
Her eyes close and her mouth goes tight.
Sidney knows without asking that she's thinking about Dewey.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry for... everything. For New York."
"Oh, don't be sorry," Gale says. "I made it through."
"I'm sorry you lost someone else," Sidney says. She's also sorry that she can't even remember his name.
Gale must have told her, once or twice, when Sidney would call to check in. But Sidney did her best to disassociate through those calls. She didn't just refuse to go to New York; she refused to take in anything that happened.
Those two girls weren't her responsibility.
They weren't Gale's, either.
But Gale still showed up.
For her own reasons, Sidney always tells herself. Gale has motivations to be involved that Sidney does not.
Sidney has a family. A husband. Three daughters. She has reasons to live now.
Gale lost her person, before he even died. Sidney understands the recklessness.
She was there once, floating in the nothing-space trying to find meaning. She chose to marry a good man and ground herself. She chose not to let the trauma get her. She thinks Gale did the same thing, once upon a time; she also chose to grab her person and hold on tight. Gale made a decade of sacrifices in the name of not being alone, and in the end - she's still alone.
Maybe that'll be Sidney one day, too. They can't predict the future. She's already almost lost Mark. It probably won't be the last time.
She reaches out and grabs Gale's hand, the one that shakes. She holds it tight.
"I barely even knew him," Gale admits. "He was my trainer, and it felt good to be wanted, but I didn't even go to his funeral."
"You were in the hospital, weren't you?"
"Maybe. I guess. I don't know. His family didn't reach out and send any me any information about it." She sighs. "He was nice to me. Didn't even care that I cried and made him leave after sex. I didn't want him sleeping in the bed Dewey and I bought together."
Sidney winces. "Still. You couldn't have saved him."
"Can't fucking save anyone," Gale says, with a humorless laugh.
"You saved me," Sidney says. "So many times."
Gale squeezes her hand. "You always save yourself, Sid."
"Not always," Sidney says. "Sometimes it's a team effort."
"Is it still a team if it's just down to two people?" Gale asks, then lifts a hand to wipe a tear away. "Fuck. Give me that wine back."
Sidney laughs and hands the bottle over. It's the second for the night. They both wanted to get drunk. They both wanted to just fucking forget the world existed.
They drink in silence for a few more minutes, passing it back and forth.
"You know," Sidney says. "The funny thing is, Stu was actually really smart. He and I were the only ones that made straight A's, and I don't think he even tried. I tried."
"Huh," Gale says. "I would have thought he'd have struggled in school. I don't know why."
"Because he just acted... like that," Sidney says. "Tatum - Riley, Tatum Riley - was an awful student. She just didn't care. She was too busy having fun. Living her life."
"She was young," Gale says. "She was... my grandma would have called her a spitfire."
Sidney smiles. "Yeah. She was a spitfire."
They're still holding hands, but loosely now.
"Hey," Gale says. "Do you think those rumors are true?"
"Which ones?" Sidney asks.
"The ones about Billy and Stu being gay." Gale turns her head to the side, looking at Sidney. She looks older with her makeup off, but softer too.
There were books written. Books Gale herself didn't write. Ones that insinuated things about two teenage boys. If one killed for revenge, what did the other kill for? Love seemed as acceptable a motive as anything else.
"Oh," Sidney laughs. "Those rumors. I mean - I don't know. I think. Maybe? Billy definitely wanted to have sex with me, but I don't think it was about wanting me. It was about power. And Stu... he and Tatum were like... they were all over each other. But all that stuff that came out later. I think... I guess... I don't know. I don't know. It's not impossible."
There's a soft knock on the door.
"Yeah?" Sidney calls out.
Tatum sticks her head in. "Dad asked me to do, uh... a wellness check."
Sidney laughs. "Tell your dad we're doing just fine. We're... we're good. Everything is good."
"Fine and dandy," Gale adds, then giggles.
Tatum blinks at them. "Wow. You're drunk."
"It happens, sweetie," Gale says.
Tatum has the door almost closed again when Sidney says, "Wait, wait. Actually-"
"Yeah?" Tatum asks.
"Can you bring us another bottle of wine?" Sidney asks hopefully.
Tatum groans. "I hate this," she says, but she shuts the door.
Sidney laughs. "It's so weird how kids just think adults are... I don't know. These one-dimensional people. I joked about a blowjob once and I think she was going to faint."
"Wow," Gale says. Then she sighs. "We tried, you know. Me and Dewey."
Sidney's head jerks to the side to look at her, and the room goes a little sideways. "What? Seriously?"
"Mhm." Gale takes one last drink and then hands the bottle to Sidney for her to kill it, which she promptly does. "Got pregnant once. I miscarried at twelve weeks. Didn't even get a positive test after that."
"Wow," Sidney says. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"We hadn't even announced it," Gale says. "I didn't see the point in waiting, but Dewey did. His mom had some miscarriages, apparently. He knew what it felt like to see someone get the whole family involved then lose it. He said second trimester, then we could tell people. He was right. It sucked. I wouldn't have wanted people asking me how I was doing after that."
Sidney says nothing. She can tell Gale isn't finished talking.
"You know, the fucked up thing is that it was me pushing for it. He was scared. He'd already lost so many people. His sister. His dad from that heart attack the year before. And his mom had cancer, she was... I think he already knew the treatments weren't working. I thought a kid might help him be happier."
"Just him? Not you?"
Gale shrugs. "I was already miserable there. I thought a kid might be... something new. Something to do. I'd have been a bad mom. But he'd have been a good dad, right? And maybe that could have saved him."
"He was great with Tatum, the few times he came to see us," Sidney says. "But I also think he probably knew what you were doing. He always saw through you."
"Not at the end," Gale says. Her voice is thicker, scratchy. "I saw through him. But I was too chickenshit to go after him. I couldn't believe he'd really left me. I was fucking... broken. He didn't even let me choose. I missed him and I was mad at him because he hurt me."
"He loved you so much," Sidney says, because that's really all she can say. There is no comfort. There is no happy ending. Dewey is dead in the ground and he's not coming back. "But sometimes people hurt each other."
She's fiercely glad Gale didn't see that shitty AI version of Dewey playing on the screen in her house.
"Do you ever think it's funny," Gale says. "That we both ended up married to police chiefs?"
"It is kind of funny," Sidney says. "Do you think they just feel safe, or something?"
Gale laughs. "Are you kidding, Sid? How much have the cops ever done for us? No offense to your hubby, but who got shit done? Who actually put the bullet through those pyshcho fucker brains? It was you and Sidney, Jr.
Sidney cracks a grin. "He's a good cop," she says, but the defense is tempered by humor. "What about Dewey?"
"The best man I've ever known," Gale says, solemnly. "But he sure as fuck didn't know how to move out of the way of a knife."
The laugh is loud this time, almost loud enough to drown out the knock on the guest room door. "Alcohol delivery service," Tatum announces, bringing in another bottle.
It's already uncorked. "You're such a good daughter," Sidney says, and she really means it. "I'm so lucky to have you."
"Oh god," Tatum says. "You're so drunk."
"You have to be nice to me," Sidney says. "I've been through a traumatic experience."
"Me, too," Tatum points out."
Sidney thinks of her coffee shop, and her daughter shooting through the walls. Then her thoughts turn stray and go in a different path. "They should - do they make punch cards for this? Like we do for drinks at the shop? I feel like I get a freebie soon."
"You already got your freebie," Gale reminds her. "New York."
"So I have... what... six more then I can sit another one out?" Sidney whines. "No fair."
"I don't even know who you are," Tatum says. "I'm going to sleep."
"Check on your dad first," Sidney says.
"Yeah, I already did," Tatum answers. "And he said check on you."
Sidney's head lolls on the pillow, toward Gale this time. "He loves me."
"Yeah, yeah," Gale grumbles. "Brag more."
"I'll bring you water and Advil before I go to sleep," Tatum says, and then shuts the door with a begrudging grumble.
"She loves me too," Sidney says, her smile gentling. "I think we might be, like... close. We've never been close. Ever since she was a kid - I tried, you know? I tried to love my kids every single way I knew how. But there's always this part of me that's just like... you can't keep them safe if you're you. You have to be someone else. Be this perfect mom without a traumatic past. And shut everything else. But I think I just ended up shutting her out, too."
It's the most Sidney has said to anyone on this topic since her last therapist quit, shortly after reading about a therapist in New York and how that man met his grisly end.
Sidney couldn't really hold it against the lady. She doesn't hold much against anyone, really. That's why she didn't see it coming this time. She assumed a seventeen year old who was kind of a freak about studying her past was just a kid with an interest. Not that he had a mother secretly even more of a freak about her.
“You are a good mom,” Gale says. “You deserve to get to be close to her.”
Sidney realizes they’re still holding hands. She squeezes gently. “You should, too, you know. Come around more.”
“New York isn’t exactly around the corner,” Gale points out. “And I can’t live in California again. I’m not… not there. Not yet.”
“But New York is easier?”
“Yeah,” Gale says. “I mean, in a masochistic way. Because Dewey leaving New York wasn’t a decision I made. It wasn’t a mistake I made. Leaving Woodsboro, making him leave, was.”
That doesn’t really make much sense to Sidney, but she is drunk. “Wow,” she says, realizing. “I’m gonna have a hangover, aren’t I?”
Gale laughs. “Welcome to the real world, sweetie.”
“This isn’t… me,” Sidney says, waving her hand at the wine bottle. “I’m… mm… Mark says I don’t let my guard down. But like… why would I? Tell me. Why would I. Like, what if there was an attacker while I’m drunk? And he kills me because I had an extra glass of wine? I’d be so pissed.”
Gale starts laughing halfway through Sidney’s rant and doesn’t stop. “Oh my god. You sound so insane right now. But you’re right.”
“But I’m right!” Sidney says triumphantly, even going as far as to sit up in bed before she flops back down.
“You’re good now, though? Feel safe?” Gale asks.
Sidney nods. “Yeah. I mean, we’re in my own home.”
“That a psycho camped in for apparently hours to surprise you.”
“Yeah…” Sidney says. She lets go of Gale’s hand to reach for the newest wine bottle, which they’re already a third into. “But it feels different, doesn’t it? Like I’m not - I’m not crazy, right, Gale? You can tell when it’s quiet.”
“Yeah,” Gale agrees. “I do know what you mean. My gut says we’re good, too.”
“For a little while,” Sidney says. She hands it off to Gale, then takes another drink when Gale hands it back.
Gale sighs. When she speaks, her voice is a quiet thread of what it usually is. “Am I allowed to say I hope he just finishes the job with me next time?”
“No,” Sidney says. She turns to look at Gale. She sees every year, every attack, etched into the lines on Gale’s face. She sees the loss she’s felt reflected back at herself. “Because then I’d be alone, and you can’t leave me alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Gale counters. “You said it yourself. You have a husband and family. And - Chad and Mindy are - they’re good. I wanted them close to… I don’t know. Protect them. Which sounds stupid, but-”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Sidney says. “It’s exactly why you can’t hope that, okay? They need you. I need you. Tatum will probably need you, too, as much as I hate to admit it.”
“No one needs me,” Gale says. “But it’s what he would have done. He’d have helped them. He always helped people.”
“Gale…” Sidney sighs.
Gale takes a shuddering breath. Sidney can see the tears she’s trying not to cry. “I just don’t want to do it without him, Sid. I’m tired of doing it without him.”
Sidney rolls over and rests her head on Gale’s shoulder. She can’t remember the last time she was casually affectionate with anyone but her husband and her kids - the younger ones, at least. “So do it with me instead.”
And in the moment, she means it, she really does. But Gale knows her better than that.
She’s Sidney Prescott. Dewey and Gale were a joint act; they had each other. Sidney Prescott has always walked the path alone.
“Anyway,” Gale says, but her voice starts to grow distant. “I think you’re falling asleep, kid.”
She hasn’t been called kid in a long time. It makes her smile a little. Gale has known her since she was a kid, as rough as that read was.
“No ‘m not,” Sidney mumbles, but the bed is cozy and she is warm and her body is full of aches and bruises finally dulled by the alcohol.
She feels Gale reach out and push her hair out of her face. It’s a soft gesture. Gale is soft, sometimes; soft in moments like this, when no one is watching. “Go to sleep,” Gale whispers. Her voice is stark. There’s the click of a lamp and the room is suddenly dark.
“You, too,” Sidney whispers back.
She doesn’t stay awake long enough to figure out if Gale sleeps at all, but the last thoughts in her mind are of how good it feels to share space with someone she feels completely safe with.