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“Rae we gotta go!” Abigail’s voice calling in warning as the helicopter blades start to kick up the dust around them.
“Okay buddy?” Raelle asks, waiting for the little boy to nod as she finishes pinning the bowerbird charm on his shirt.
“Take him!” She calls to the taller witch as soon as he does, keeping her back to them as she unfurls her scourge defensively. She scans through the storm around them, waiting for her cue to run back to the chopper.
“Raelle!” The fixer hears Tally scream, not understanding why until she sees the curved tip of the blade pull itself back out of her chest. Raelle’s eyes widen in shock for a fraction of a second as the pain burns through her, only growing as she inhales.
‘Oh fuck.’ She realizes, her hand reflexively coming up to cover the quickly bleeding wound as her legs buckle and send her down sideways on one knee. Her blood is warm and spilling down the front of her uniform in a fast flood. She can only watch helplessly as her attacker stands over her before the Camarilla soldier is sent flying back and away from her with a roar of a seed that could only have come from Abigail.
‘Oh so, your wounds they show’
Her partner comes crashing down to kneel by her side as Raelle collapses onto her back, the hand on her chest painted crimson as it fails to stop the flow. Her legs are twitching slightly as she tries to find the strength to stand up again but can’t.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” The taller witch promises, taking her hand tightly and trying to match their breathing.
‘I know you have never felt so alone’
“You need to let me go.” The fixer murmurs faintly but Abigail holds fast, her other hand coming to grip tightly at the blondes’ forearm to keep her hand from retreating.
“You need to shut up and let me concentrate!” Her partner growls back, but they both know she isn’t the fixer. Raelle is. And the blonde can feel her energy fading away with her blood in the sand.
“I can’t move her!” Abigail cries out over the wind as she opens the link between them and tries to start fixing her with a low seed. She can feel the damage and the way the fixer’s heart struggles to thump, her brown eyes filling with angry tears. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, they were supposed to go to war college together; The three of them, as a unit. Her unit.
“You gotta break the link or I’m going to take you with me.” Raelle tells her, starting to choke slightly at the blood pooling in her damaged lung. Her voice is calm, and her eyes are understanding but pleading. They beg silently for her partner to listen; To save herself.
“Not gonna happen, Collar.” The blaster growls, tightening her hand and using the other to brace herself protectively over the blonde.
‘But hold on, head up, be strong’
An explosion hits the second helicopter, shaking the first and all of its occupants.
“General! We have to go now!” Abigail hears Bridey yell from the cockpit, feeling dizzy and collapsing onto her side next to Raelle. She doesn’t loosen her hold, feeling her life force start to leave her in time with the fixer’s own.
‘Oh hold on, hold on until you hear them come’
“Go go!” Alders voice orders from somewhere in the distance and the wind from the chopper blades intensifies around them. Tally’s scream of protest is quickly drowned out as the bat takes to the air, out of range of their attackers.
‘Here they come, oh
Take an angel by the wings
Beg her now for anything
Beg her now for one more day
Take an angel by the wings
Time to tell her everything
Ask her for the strength to stay’
“You always gotta be the hero huh, Bellweather?” Raelle teases weakly, squeezing her hand as the sound of the helicopter moves away from them. Abigail chuckles brokenly in response, her eyes filling with tears as she meets her partners eyes. The blonde tries a chuckle of her own at the small but unapologetic smile she sees form on the taller witches’ lips, but no noise comes out as she struggles to pull air into her punctured chest.
‘I’m going to need the two of you to come back so you can continue to frustrate me and age me prematurely.’ Anacostia’s parting words echo in her head. Her voice had been as affectionate as she could afford to allow it to be, but Raelle had heard its shake and tearfulness as the older witch had walked away.
‘Sorry Sargent. I hope you’ll still be proud of Tally.’ She apologizes mentally. Everything is starting to fall dark around the edges of her vision, and she can hardly feel the desert sand at her back or the cooling blood that still pools across her belly.
“I love you, shitbird.” Is the last thing she hears as the wind pulls at her hair. She’d watched Abigail’s lips move while she’d spoken those words, brown eyes sad but resolute. She feels her own lips pull into a ghost of a half-smile, and she wishes more than anything she could say it back. Abigail seems to understand, squeezing her hand.
Then she feels the warm tingle of an ‘S’ forming across her palm, a sudden warmth blooming in both fallen witches as the world explodes around them.
#
‘Oh, look up and don't ask why, oh
Just take an angel by the wings
Beg her now for anything
Beg her now for one more day
Take an angel by the wings
Time to tell her anything
Ask her for the strength to stay’
They’re surrounded by a storm of black particles swirling and spiraling in the air around them as they walk. A white glow emits from their connected hands, seeming to act as a barrier that protects them from both the spinning particles and the rest of the world around them as well. The blast had taken out any remaining Camarilla soldiers by the time they’d gotten back to their feet, both shocked to still be alive and with the strength to move. Something tells them not to let go of their hands, not yet. It’s not safe yet and they both feel it. Neither have spoken but it hasn’t felt like they need to; It’s hard to tell where one ends and the other starts, sharing their thoughts and feelings through what they can only assume is the still open link.
The next time an ‘S’ tingles across the palm of Raelle’s connected hand, Abigail feels it too and she gasps at the sensation. They stop so the taller witch can stare down at their joined hands, getting a small smile from the blonde through their bond.
The second time it happens, something in their connected being tells them to follow the passive work back to its source and for a few seconds they can feel her the way they feel each other. She’s happy, cautiously so and then surprised before the connection fades with the symbol.
‘She’s okay.’ Raelle’s energy seems to pulse, her relief at that rolling over her partner as well.
‘She is, and we’ll find her. She’s ours.’ Abigail’s energy agrees possessively in the physical equivalent of a growl.
‘Ours hmmm?’ The blonde wonders, a surge of playfulness moving through them both as blue eyes fall on her curiously.
‘For now.’ The taller witch huffs with a relaxed shrug as they continue on.
#
Neither is sure how long they’ve been walking for, not needing food or water or even to sleep. They think it’s been around three days, the only difference between day and night within the glow is their ability to see the stars when they look up. They stop sometimes for a while to watch the sky when they notice the bright white pin pricks, the only things brighter than the glow that blankets them.
Thoughts and emotions fly between them easily and they end up sharing stories through bursts of memories to pass the time.
Raelle shows her the cession and her pop and their small house with the beat-up looking pickup truck in its driveway. Abigail shows her Christmases and parties and the shenanigans she’d gotten into growing up as a High Atlantic when her mother wasn’t looking, the blonde not missing the sorrow and regret she feels from her companion at the sight of Libba in any of them. The fixer tries to comfort her partner with memories of the times her momma was allowed home for her birthday and some of the times when she wasn’t, getting a squeeze of her hand as they feel it all as one.
Whenever an ‘S’ appears between them again after they’d reached out and felt Scylla, Abigail is flooded with love and longing and so much worry from Raelle’s end of the bond. It doesn’t happen more than twice, but they have to stop both times to allow the taller witch to ground them again before they both become overwhelmed. By the second time Abigail has learned that the quickest way to reorient Raelle is by squeezing her hand and blasting her with her own feelings for the blonde. The loud waves from the blonde slow when she does this and lose their intensity as Raelle regains her control. She apologetically squeezes her partners hand back, her returned feelings coming across the link with a careful hesitance as if afraid they’ll be rebuffed.
#
As the fourth day starts in this new limbo of theirs, they notice that the black particles swirling around them have started to thin out and disappear. Their glow starts to dull as the day goes on and as it does, exhaustion starts to hit them. Abigail quickly tries to find them cover, feeling Raelle’s energy fading much quicker than her own and not at all liking how much the blonde is starting to stagger. They take shelter from the now ripping desert winds between two large boulders, the space only just big enough for them to stand in and be able to lay comfortably in any direction.
As soon as they’re safe from the elements Raelle’s hand slips out of hers and she drops like a puppet with its strings cut. It’s only the blasters quick reflexes that keep the smaller witch off of the stone floor below.
“Collar? Wake up!” Abigail orders, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice. She carefully sets the blonde down on her back, pulling at the fixer’s bloody jacket until it opens.
“No no no no…” She whispers in alarm as she finds a slow but fresh trickle of blood coming from the wound in Raelle’s chest, not knowing what to do. Upon further inspection and much to Abigail’s temporary relief, the stab wound on the fixers back is cleanly healed with only a thick pink scar to show for it. She sighs, taking off her jacket and folding it as neatly as she can with shaking hands before lifting the blonde’s head enough to slide it beneath.
“Fuck what is it she always says?” The blaster mutters to herself as she moves to kneel at the smaller witches left side and places her hands over the remaining wound. She slows her breathing to match the unconscious witches’ and focuses.
“W-when you pass through the waters, I will be with you. Through the rivers, they shall not flood you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned.” Abigail tries, closing her eyes and recalling the words from when Raelle had healed her face before Libba’s memorial. Her voice shakes at first, but she feels the words start to echo in her ears as the work from her throat joins with them.
She gasps and grits her teeth at the pain that digs into her chest over her heart as the blonde’s bleeding stops. When she pulls her hands away again and sits back on her haunches she’s shaking. Abigail tries to catch her breath, not expecting that to be as heavy as it was. She finally looks down to see the blood blossoming through her under shirt, inspecting the injury she’d been partially able to pull from her partner. It’s deep and she can feel it when she breathes but she can handle the pain from it if it means Raelle feels less of it. When she can finally get her hands to stop shaking, she sets to work on the sleeping witches’ braids, not wanting to add a headache to the list of pains she’ll be in when she wakes back up.
Raelle starts to come to with a groan as Abigail finishes and is combing her fingers through the now free hair.
“Hey there, shitbird.” The taller witch greets softly, her eyes full of relief.
“Abbi? What happened? Are you okay? Why are you bleeding?” Raelle demands, pushing herself to sit up quickly. She ignores the burn from her chest in protest of the action as she sees the blood on the front of her partners shirt.
“You collapsed as soon as we got in here and I tried to fix you. I-I remembered the thing you always say, and it worked, kinda. You stopped bleeding.” Abigail explains sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck.
“That could’ve killed you! Please promise me you won’t ever try that with anyone else. You’re a fighter, not a fixer.” The blonde scolds gently as she checks the wound that now mirrors her own.
“I won’t. It was so much harder than I thought. I couldn’t stop shaking afterward.” The taller witch promises. The fixer seems to relax when she finishes checking over her, dropping back to lay down again tiredly.
“We should rest. It’s dark out and we’ll have better luck navigating during the day.” Raelle points out, glancing over at the entrance to their shelter. Abigail nods her agreement, settling down beside her and pulling her close carefully. The smaller witch rolls to face her, kissing her softly.
“I love you too, by the way Bellweather.” The fixer huffs before adjusting to burrow her head under her chin and against her neck. Raelle tangles their legs together and takes a fistful of Abigail’s shirt, careful of her injury as Abigail secures her arms around slender hips and curls around her protectively. She hums lowly, closing her eyes and taking reassurance as she usually does from Raelle’s soft breaths against her skin. She tries to slow her breathing to aid herself in falling asleep as the blonde fades back out against her.
#
Abigail wakes up to the sound of the wind howling against the rocks and sees daylight starting to come into their hiding spot. Raelle is still asleep in her arms but she’s warm, too warm and the taller witch can see the sweat beading her brow when she pulls back enough to look at her.
“Collar, wake up. We have to move.” Abigail calls, shaking her shoulder. The blonde stirs and sits up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. The taller of the two rises to her feet, extending a hand down to Raelle who takes it and lets herself be hoisted upward. The shorter witches’ steps are shaky and uncoordinated once they’re out in the sand and Abigail is quick to pull one of her arms over her shoulders. She leads them away from their shelter and they aren’t lucky enough to find another one before night falls, but she’s pleased with the ground they’ve managed to cover.
Raelle’s breathing is a wet rasp when they sit down and the blaster is quick to attempt to fix her again in a low mutter, ignoring her protests as she takes part of the burden into herself. She coughs at the slight tightness to her chest when she finishes but doesn’t mind when her counterpart seems to breathe a bit easier.
When they wake up again the blonde’s fever is even higher, and she can barely stay standing without the taller witches help. They’re both feeling the lack of food and water clearly and Abigail pulls her arm over her shoulder again, leading them along. She’s nearly dragging Raelle along with her by the time the day is half over until the blondes’ legs give out and she brings them down to the sand.
“Just leave me Abs. You’ll be able to go farther without me.” Raelle croaks, blinking tiredly up at her partner from where she lays on her back.
“I followed you into death once already so don’t you fucking think I won’t do it again shitbird.” Abigail growls, her refusal clear.
“If you can sit up, I can carry you, but you’ll have to hold on.” She decides and they adjust so the taller witch is carrying her in a piggyback. Abigail marches through the sand again with the fixer’s weight against her back. She tightens her grip whenever she feels her get heavier, the blondes head falling down against her shoulder and neck. The blaster keeps the blondes’ arms over her shoulders, using the smaller witches own weight to keep her in place against her back.
Her partner is in and out of consciousness despite Abigail’s best efforts to keep her awake and her fear only makes her more determined to keep them going. She keeps a link open between them as best as she can, not to try to fix her again but to try to feel her like they had in the glow. Raelle’s emotions are a mess of quickly changing thoughts in her fevered haze but the taller witch clings to them like a lifeline. The sun beats down on them unforgivingly and Abigail feels as Raelle starts to weaken like she had as they lay dying.
“No no no, don’t you dare. Stay with me Collar. Stay with me shitbird.” She demands, dropping to the sand and sliding Raelle off of her back. She takes her hand again, gripping her forearm with the other and tries to re-link them, this time trying to heal her, to heal them.
“Abigail, you can’t.” The fixer croaks out, trying to meet her eyes and pull her hand back just like the first time.
“No. Shut up. Shut up Raelle.” The blaster growls through gritted teeth, using her given name while closing her eyes and focusing harder. As things start to go black around her, a familiar glow emits from their linked hands and the world explodes again.
#
This time as the particles swirl around them again, Raelle is still only barely conscious. Abigail is hit with the haze of her fever, but she pulls her smaller partner back up onto her back and continues walking. The glow has once again eliminated her exhaustion and their hunger pains and dehydration and Abigail keeps walking, sending more fond memories from her childhood at Raelle to keep her attention.
When the blonde can focus enough she receives some back, getting to see Raelle go mudding with the few kids that would allow her to hang out with them despite knowing she was part witch. She gets to see her partner being taught how to drive the pick-up and absolutely sucking at it, regardless of her impossibly patient fathers’ best efforts. She sends back her own experience with learning how to drive, first with her dads when her mother wasn’t home to stop them and then again with Charvel before she came to Fort Salem.
As they keep moving Abigail starts to see a brighter light in the distance and changes course to head towards it. When they get closer she can see it looks like a large rectangular doorway and she hesitates uncertainly.
“Go through that. I think it leads back to Fort Salem. To somewhere in the necro area.” Raelle’s energy urges her as the blonde blinks and lifts her head to see why they’ve stopped. Her partner nods, trusting her completely and heading towards it quickly. When they finally step through it, the glow immediately fades and Abigail collapses under Raelle’s weight as all of her previous exhaustion and weakness hits her at once.
“Told you.” The fixer rasps before falling unconscious again.
“You smug little… Help!” Abigail mutters before crying out loudly, pulling their hands back together as something whispers for her not to let go yet. Izadora skids into the room, her eyes wide as they fall on the pair.
“Bellweather? Collar? We were told that you two were…” She begins in shock.
“Dead. And we were, twice. Let’s not make it a third time. Collar needs help, now.”