For three years, you'd been Fezco's girl. Everything was (in the Fezco way) perfect. You'd become a mother figure to Ashtray, who really did need the guidance, a caretaker for Fez's grandma when he wasn't available to help her, and especially a caretaker of the rough and tough Fez.

Fez loved you so much. He valued you above most things. He would do anything to protect you, make you happy, give you anything you wanted. You were spoiled by Fez. You were his best girl and his best girl got anything she wanted. He bought you new clothes, paid to get your nails done, cooked you meals, cleaned for you (and he had never been good at that), wrote you letters, always let you know where he was going, what he was doing, and left you voice mails or called you when he was on his way home.

Dating someone like Fez was scary. A drug dealer, Fez often dealt with deadly people. But oddly, you'd never felt unsafe. Fez would deal with anybody that threatened you. And he was not known to be merciful about it.

Tonight, you pushed the door open to your apartment, letting out a sniffle and wiping the tears from your cheeks in an attempt to hide them from Fez. A man at work had been harassing you, and you knew that if you told Fez, that man would very likely end up in a ditch somewhere. But unfortunately, when you got home, Fez was waiting in the kitchen, his eyebrows immediately furrowing at the state of you. Your attempts to hide it very obviously would not work. He could read his best girl like a book.

Even Ashtray, who sat at the end of the table eating a bowl of cereal, furrowed his eyebrows in concern and stiffened. He was overprotective of you too; you were like a mother to him.

Fez spoke first.

"Baby.. You good? What's goin' on?"