Only the four of them were left: Misty and Stevie talking on the couch while Cordelia and Myrtle took advantage of the warlocks' library. Attention already only half on her selection, Cordelia looked up when Stevie paused to yawn for the third time in five minutes.
"It's after midnight," she murmured. Myrtle hummed her agreement, closing the thick Latin text she'd chosen and standing.
"I think it's high time we all retire for the night. Stephanie, a room has been prepared for you, if you'd like to follow me?" The White Witch nodded, disentangling her fingers from Misty's to stand and stretch.
"Thanks, Myrtle." Misty looked up at her, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Stevie's smile turned soft as she turned back, bending to press a kiss to the swamp witch's forehead. "Try to get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow." The affection did little to ease Misty's anxiety, but she nodded dutifully. Misty kept her eyes trained on her idol until she and Myrtle rounded the corner, attention immediately flicking to Cordelia and unsurprised to find the Supreme already looking at her.
"We don't have to go to sleep yet, do we?" Cordelia abandoned her book to stand in front of the younger woman, offering her hands with a grin.
"Come on, I want to show you something." Misty expression showed her confusion, but she didn't hesitate before letting Cordelia pull her up, keeping one of the smaller hands between her own as she was led upstairs. Her footsteps stuttered to a halt when the entered the Supreme's sleeping quarters, Cordelia slipping from her grasp with a reassuring squeeze. She pulled an old, worn carpet bag from the wardrobe, and Misty sucked in a breath. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn't say anything, didn't hope, until Cordelia placed it on the bed and sat down.
"Open it," she encouraged. Misty's trembling hands slipped on the clasps, and a watery cry tore from her throat when she finally laid eyes on her things. One hand covered her mouth, the other running over the various colorful fabrics. She looked at Cordelia, who watched her with a matching expression of joy and disbelief. The Supreme cleared her throat, a blush dusting her cheeks. "When I realized Michael might be able to rescue you, I…wanted to be prepared. Now you won't have to sleep in that dress."
"You kept my things?" Cordelia swallowed thickly, fitting her fingers between Misty's reaching ones. The swamp witch pushed the luggage aside so she could sit, their shoulders brushing as they face each other.
"Getting rid of them felt like giving up," she whispered. "I never stopped looking for a way to get you back, Misty. I want you to know that. We never forgot you." Cordelia wiped a stray tear from Misty's cheek. Her bottom lip trembled as she looked into the soft brown eyes she'd never had a chance to see before. For the first time, it really hit Misty that five years had passed without her, and she broke down, burrowing her face into Cordelia's shoulder as the Supreme held her close.
"Thank you." Cordelia hushed her, holding her close and running fingers through her messy waves until she'd calmed down.
"That's the first time you've cried, isn't it?"
"There were more important things to worry about." Her arms tightened around Cordelia's waist. "When you collapsed, for a moment I thought this was all just some new version a' Hell."
"Oh, Misty, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She pulled back, just enough to make Misty raise her head. "Nothing is more important right now than how you feel. You've been through something unimaginable." The swamp witch opened her mouth to protest, but Cordelia held her gaze intently until she nodded. Misty's fingers tapped a random pattern on her hip, loosely grasping at the fabric there until Cordelia pulled them away, wrapping them in her own. Their rings clinked together, and Misty looked down at them in thought. If she recognized any of the ones Cordelia wore as her own, she didn't say.
"I don't want to think about it. I don't want to remember."
"I know, and that's okay. It's going to take time." She tucked a curl behind the younger woman's ear, smiling gently. "And I'll be right here when you do." Misty held the hand there against her cheek, biting her lip.
"I can't stop seein' it when I close my eyes. I can't—I don't want to be alone." Cordelia hummed in understanding.
"You don't have to be. Stay here tonight, with me."
"You don't mind?" Her eyes lit up with hope, and Cordelia's heart broke just a little, so she squeezed Misty's hand tighter.
"Never. Come on, let's get changed." Misty felt the tension leak out of her shoulders at the Supreme's words, and she sighed. When Cordelia moved toward the bathroom, she turned back to the suitcase. A giggle bubbled up inside her throat—her favorite shawls and skirts were all there. Just the feeling of the tassels and lace slipping through her fingers made her feel like twirling. Smiling, she pulled out a short-sleeved, white nightgown. The bathroom door was still closed, so she eagerly shed her dress—her funeral dress—and slipped it on. Only Stevie's shawl got carefully folded and placed at the very top of the pile.
Misty was humming "Rhiannon" when Cordelia came out of the bathroom, facing away from her while she pulled off her rings and bracelets. Cordelia just stood there for a moment, breath caught in her throat.
"Miss Cordelia?" She blinked out of her daze. Misty watched her expectantly, feet tucked under the covers and arms around her knees. The shorter woman shook her head with a smile.
"I wish you'd stop calling me 'miss'," Cordelia chuckled, crawling into bed beside her. "I don't want any formality, not with you. You're my best friend, Misty." The swamp witch offered her own smile, sliding down to lay on the opposite pillow.
"You're mine, too." She offered her hand between them, and Cordelia took it, using her mind to dim the lights. "Y'know, this is the first time I've seen your real eyes."
"I suppose it is," she whispered sleepily. She could feel Misty's eyes on her as her own slipped shut despite herself; it had been an exhausting day.
"They're beautiful."
Cordelia woke some time later, pushing further into her pillow before registering Misty's ocean eyes still trained on her face. She yawned, blinking sleepily in the dark.
"Sweetheart, you need to try and sleep." The younger woman's hand tightened in her own.
"What if I don't wake up?" She whispered. "What if I get stuck again? Maybe—" Misty took a shuddering breath, "What if I never came back , an' this is my new Hell? Bein' here with you and then realizing it was all a dream?"
"Hey, come here." The swamp witch came willingly as Cordelia tugged her closer, adjusting so she was on her back. "Listen. Can you hear my heartbeat?" Misty nodded against her chest, wild curls tickling the Supreme's nose. She stroked them away but nuzzled closer, breathing in the still-familiar scent of herbs and soil and rainwater. "You're real, Misty. This is real. I've got you, and I will never let you go back there." Misty sank into the embrace, lulled by the steady pulse of Cordelia's heart and her soothing words. She finally let her eyes close.
"Thank you, Delia." The Supreme only responded by holding her tighter.
