What Would You Give?

by Ly Merrick

Misty's resurrection is only the beginning, but it comes at a heavy price.

Title: What Would You Give

Pairing: Cordelia/Misty

Synopsis: Her resurrection is only the beginning of the journey.

A/N: So, I got a request to write a story on my take of what would happen if Cordelia brought Misty back from Hell. And then there were requests for swamp!sex and domesticity, so I'll try to weave all those things in eventually. Essentially I'm going to try to keep the storyline and chronology the same. There is no established relationship between Cordelia and Misty to start out with. I like building things up first, and I'd like to think that although there was a bond between them canonically, if Cordelia were to bring Misty back it wouldn't be out of any selfish desire to have a lover back, but because she just genuinely cared about Misty. So here we go. Key note: always listen to Robin Trower when writing Foxxay.

###

Loss Before Gain

Don't look back, there's too much pain; when you weigh the loss before the gain, don't swim out on the tall dark sea.

Cordelia had never seen Misty's home before they lost the young witch to the trial of Seven Wonders. In truth, the loss had devastated Cordelia. Misty had been a genuinely wonderful person with whom Cordelia had bonded on a deep level. She had suffered such pain and isolation (with which Cordelia could relate) that her death was all the more tragic because she had been so happy just to find a place among people who seemed to care about her.

It was Zoe who had offered to take Cordelia to Misty's home in the swamp. Perhaps Zoe had sensed Cordelia's deep regret. She often lay awake at the end of each day and thought, though she had succeeded in giving witches all over the world a place to find sanctuary, she had still failed in some grand way. It had been Misty's job to return from her own version of Hell – it was a part of the trial. And yet, she could have at least trained the Cajun, tried to warn her of what she would experience, or shared what little knowledge she had. Cordelia blamed herself for not doing these things.

When Queenie would come to say goodnight, or Zoe, it was frequent that they would catch Cordelia in tears. It had been a month; the Coven had grown, and by almost all accounts Cordelia had succeeded. She just could not forgive her failure, could not forgive the responsibility of not intervening to bring Misty back.

Holding the dying witch in her arms had been one of the singular most painful experiences in her life. She remembered clutching to the solid body, holding on to it with shaking hands and all her strength because she was foolish enough to think that her voice would pull Misty from Hell, or that her grip would keep her body on this plane.

"We're here," Zoe distracted Cordelia's introspection, and pulled off onto a side road. "We have to go the rest of the way by foot," the young witch put the car in park. Cordelia only nodded and got out of the car. She adjusted her sunglasses and tightened the black shawl she wore around her shoulders; it had been one of Misty's, and Cordelia just hadn't had the heart to get rid of it. Somehow, it reminded Cordelia of her responsibility to keep the witches of the Coven safe.

Cordelia followed Zoe through a thankfully dry path, touched a tree here and there to steady herself amongst the fallen branches. Somewhere nearby a splash erupted in the swamp water, a clap of iron jaws. Likely crocodiles or alligators (she never could keep them straight). She wondered absently, silently, how Misty could have felt safe in the company of such beasts.

They came upon a clearing, in the midst of which sat a rickety shack. It was the overgrown garden that confirmed for Cordelia that this had been home for Misty. Zoe had paused in her footsteps to let Cordelia go first, and the Supreme moved cautiously as if afraid her footfall would shift memories into the air.

The garden was unkempt but flourishing. Plants had become overgrown, and as Cordelia feathered her fingers over the leaves of a nearby plant, she got a flash of Misty's visage – watering plants, singing to them, a floppy brown hat perched on that head of curly blonde hair. Emotion swelled in her throat. "I feel like this is my greatest failure," she confided in Zoe.

The council witch pressed a palm to Cordelia's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. She got stuck – and I mean, we all heard Myrtle; she ordered you not to help."

"I should have disregarded her words," Cordelia closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of wet earth and lilacs. She could feel the garden teeming with life and energy. Without meeting Zoe's concerned gaze, Cordelia moved toward the shack, touching the door frame carefully. Closing her eyes, she saw Misty again. The witch lay in bed alone, singing to Stevie and listening to the cicadas; visions of the past came at Cordelia's will, and she wanted to see as much as possible.

She moved through vaguely destroyed belongings (from when the witch hunters had shattered Misty's peaceful world), saw various books, tapes, and spare shawls hung over a rickety wooden chair. Cordelia fingered the shawls, picking them one by one off the chair.

"She was nearly better than every one of us," Cordelia mused quietly. "Not just in power," she alluded vaguely, let out a sigh. "Zoe," Cordelia moved to the bed and took a seat. "I simply cannot forgive myself for failing her. We could have been – great friends. She learned alchemy with passion, took such joy in bringing life," the Supreme removed her sunglasses and met Zoe's understanding gaze. "I cannot forgive myself. I don't know if I ever will."

Zoe crossed the distance and sat beside Cordelia, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Cordelia's fingers continually rubbed the soft silk of each shawl, and Zoe waited patiently until the older witch was ready to leave.

###

"We do not harm one another, do you understand?" Cordelia scolded angrily. She had come between a growing feud between some of the newer residents, and as such was standing between the girls. "We have had enough death in this Coven and I will not see another witch raise a hand to her sister witch. We are not enemies here."

The youngest, an eleven year old, hung her head in shame.

"Particularly over something so petty."

"I'm sorry," the other witch, markedly older than the adolescent, "it's my temper, Miss Cordelia."

The use of the nickname made Cordelia flinch a little. She waved a hand simply. "I will not see this happen again. You are older and must act as a mentor to the girl. And you," she let go of the youngest girl, "will learn self-control."

"Yes, Miss Cordelia," both witches intoned.

"Please leave now," Cordelia requested. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Misty had been heavy on her mind since the day they returned to the cabin. She could not explain any reasoning why she lingered on the subject. After all, they had certainly lost Nan and Cordelia did not find herself in tears. Of course, she missed Nan, but something in her said that she was enjoying her stay in the great beyond. Likely with the boy whose death had devastated her so.

Misty was in Hell. She was still in Hell, suffering who knows what agony.

"I found something," Queenie announced unexpectedly, closing Cordelia's office door and startling Cordelia. "In Marie's old book. It's a ceremony. The problem is that none of the spirits in Voodoo give something without taking something away, and Baron Samedi does no favors," the girl placed the book on Cordelia's desk.

"Something for what?" Cordelia puzzled; her mind still felt fuzzy and she rounded the desk, eyeing the book with caution. The Voodoo spirits did not like her kind, only because of the long-standing feud between the Salem line and the Laveau line.

"Misty," Queenie spoke the name with a look that suggested Cordelia should've known what she was talking about. "We can bring her back," Queenie offered carefully. "There's a powerful l'wa that we can invoke. If we give him the right offerings, he might consider doing us a favor."

Cordelia had never considered the possibility of bringing Misty back. The woman's body had turned to dust in her arms. Without a body, how could they bring her back? She puzzled over this, read over the careful instructions in invoking the Baron. He was a lord of the dead, in charge of shepherding souls. He controlled who came and went, claimed souls and gave them back. Cordelia traced her fingers over his veve, felt a shiver. "This is –"

"Dangerous. I know."

"They do not like us. The Salem line is no friend to these l'wa."

"Do you wanna bring her back or not?"

Cordelia searched Queenie's face. "I have to think about this," she murmured softly. Was there even a slight chance that the l'wa would grant their request or even their audience?

"He's not all bad, but he can be a hard sell. I did some work with Marie – if I let him possess me we can speak to him. He can bring people back from the brink of death."

Cordelia's eyes darted over Queenie's face, her hands trembling.

"Misty would benefit us all. She could be on the council, she'd be back here where she belongs, not in some dank Voodoo Hell."

There was no question in Cordelia's heart. She wanted Misty back, but what would this l'wa require of them? Was he bloodthirsty – would he want an exchange?

Cordelia dropped her eyes to the book again.

"We need to buy some rum," she resolved quietly. "At the very least."

###

Queenie's possession happened quickly. So quickly, in fact, that Cordelia was completely caught offguard. They had spilled the rum onto the earth as offering, and the moment Queenie had taken a large gulp of the substance, her eyes had gone black, the white draining from them.

The voice that came from Cordelia's council member was not Queenie. An image flashed, as if from a projector, of a tall black man. His top-hat tipped, and when he grinned there was a glint of one gold tooth. Queenie's body fell heavily on the ground, and the seemingly projected vision of this man rose from her body.

"Hello, Salem," his voice crooned. He took a long swig of rum, tottered around the ritual space for a moment. "This is unusual, to be called on by such an ivory-skinned bitch," he chuckled hoarsely, gulping more of the rum. "Tell me –" he came close, and despite the nearly opaque nature of his hand, Cordelia felt it grab her jaw roughly. "What brings a Salem whore to my altar?"

"You have control over the dead," Cordelia breathed, her body trembling. She tried to maintain a firm expression, but her eyes must have shown her fear. "And we require a favor."

"Ah –" he tsked, tottered around a little more. "Require is such a terrible word."

"One of our number – she died. She's stuck in her own version of Hell and –"

"So? This is not my problem," the cant of his speech was vaguely Haitian. "Why do you come to me? The rum is nice but –" he chuckled darkly. "—rum does not buy a soul, nor a body to inhabit." He moved to the offerings, fingering each one before deciding on a deck of cards. He tucked them into his pocket, and Cordelia's mind could not wrap around the fact that this being was an ethereal, non-physical being. Each offering was examined, and became a copy of itself.

"I am desperate. She should not have died. I should pay a price, not her," Cordelia stood slowly, advanced carefully. "Baron, she was an innocent soul. She was almost a child in the way she cared for life. You protect children –"

"She was not a child, despite her compassion, as you fail to admit to me." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "She was – young, nearly your age however. Weak."

"Not weak," Cordelia asserted, but darted her eyes downward when she met a challenging gaze. Behind him, Queenie's body convulsed. "She too had control over life and death."

"Yet not over her own."

"It was not her fault."

Baron Samedi laughed darkly at the aggressive tone.

"Humans are weak. They do not realize that death is not an end."

"Life requires sacrifice. Name what you want and you can have it. We just want her back."

"You have great power –" the Baron hummed, tipping his hat again. "You have so much power you were able to heal your own shortcomings." He pushed a finger into her stomach, and Cordelia gasped. "You could not carry child – now you can."

Cordelia's hand covered the place he had touched, now burning hot.

"Are you willing to give up your future line? To sacrifice each soul lingering in your parts, - for one?"

The weight of what he was asking hit her hard. She swallowed and closed her eyes. She had spent her 20's and early 30's trying to conceive a child, to build a family. Would she sacrifice that?

In her mind, the visions of Misty were overpowering. Did Misty deserve life more than Cordelia deserved to bear children?

"A single soul for many – each child becomes mine, never to breathe the air on this earth. Their souls mine, existing only in my world. You'll never conceive, not a single child."

Cordelia felt emotion swell in her throat.

On the ground, Queenie convulsed again.

Baron Samedi finished the rum, tottered on his feet. "You have a choice, Salem whore. One soul for many." He seemed to croon these words. "Quickly now."

Cordelia trembled, tears filling her eyes. "If you bring her back, well and healthy, in her own body. If you give her to us as she was before her death, before the trial, I will let you take –" she placed her hand over her stomach. "I will give up my ability to conceive."

Baron chuckled, leaned forward, and pressed a pair of hot lips to her cheek. "The deal is struck. You'll find her where she died."

And then he was gone. It was the moment in which Queenie awoke, shot up in the place where she lay, that Cordelia collapsed in sudden and immediate pain. It was greater than any she had suffered. She let out a cry of agony, pure and unblemished pain. She did not know if it was the emotional pain, nor if it was the physical pain.

"You're bleeding," Queenie exclaimed, "Jesus, you're bleeding," the girl scrambled to her feet and helped Cordelia stand. "What did he take?"

"I gave up my ability to have children. He took each child I may have had, took their souls, in exchange for hers." Cordelia sobbed in pain, trembling all over. The weight of her decision did not fall lightly. She had given up all she had worked toward, all she had tried for.

"Cordelia," Queenie's expression shared Cordelia's pain, and quickly Cordelia was wrapped in a tight embrace.

The bleeding had ceased perhaps five minutes later, the blood dry on her thighs.

"Misty will be at the house. We need to get back," Cordelia murmured softly. They had traveled a few miles away to a place that Queenie said would satisfy the Baron. A place of power only accessible by those who had studied under Marie Laveau. Queenie supported Cordelia's weight and helped her gimp back to the car.

Cordelia's face was still wet with tears as they sped back to the house. The loss of children she'd never had hurt greater than she had expected, and she spent the ride with her face covered, sobs shaking her shoulders.

###

Cordelia had made many sacrifices for the Coven, but this was the greatest she had made. In the end, she knew the Coven would benefit, knew that they needed competent witches they could trust – compassionate sister witches that would guide and protect them. It was for the greater good, and yet as Cordelia used a damp cloth to clean the blood from her body before re-entering the house (not wanting to arouse questions or panic) she felt stung with sorrow.

It was Queenie who helped her inside, and the clamor just inside the door was enough to let Cordelia know there was commotion in the house.

"She just appeared out of nowhere!"

"Who is she?"

Zoe pushed through the crowd of young witches. She grabbed Cordelia's hand, Queenie close behind, "Misty's back. Misty's here, she just … she's just there and I don't know how but whatever you guys did, it worked," she rambled excitedly. "She was asking for you," she met Cordelia's eyes.

Queenie shepherded the young witches away, "Give her some room!" She barked, using her bodily strength to assert herself.

In the circle of milling, slightly terrified witches, Misty sat on the floor looking completely lost. "I been – the frog, and that classroom –" Her expression was crestfallen, and she searched the crowd before finding familiar faces.

"Misty," Cordelia felt a knot in her throat as she pushed her way through the girls and fell to her knees beside Misty, tracing a hand over Misty's blonde locks and feeling inwardly amazed at her solidity, at the reality of Misty existing here once again after so long. "Misty, you've … we found a way to bring you back."

Uncertain eyes searched Cordelia's, Misty's expression crumpling as tears sprung to her eyes. She threw her long arms around Cordelia, "I don't know how long I was gone – I just – I had to keep killin' and I couldn't –" her words sputtered out as she sobbed. Cordelia briefly forgot her own pain and pulled Misty just a little closer.

"You're home now. You're safe, Misty."

"I thought I was never gonna get out – I heard you but then I couldn't no more and I was –" Misty clung tightly, and Cordelia sifted a hand over her hair, clutching the younger witch to her.

"I am so sorry it took us so long. We didn't know how to get you back," Cordelia apologized, regret leaking through each syllable. "You're here now."

She did not want Misty to know what she had given up for Misty to come back. The younger witch would never forgive herself for Cordelia's sacrifice.

"You're safe now, Misty Day, you're safe," Cordelia shifted so she was sitting on the floor, rocking Misty slightly to soothe her. Her fingers smoothed over Misty's dress, torn between elation at Misty's solidity – her existence – and the plethora of other emotions Cordelia felt.

It took some time, but Cordelia was finally able to help Misty to her feet and through the crowd of teen and pre-teen witches, leaving the responsibility of herding them to their bedrooms to Zoe and Queenie. Cordelia lead Misty to her own room, deciding it was the safest place for now. She locked the door behind them, and gently urged Misty to lie down.

"There are so many witches here now – it's so crowded," Misty had finally reached a point of coherence, and she was still clutching Cordelia's hand as she sat down. "How long has it been, Miss Cordelia?"

"I think … about a month. The Coven is growing every day and I – we need you. We need strong witches, strong leaders –"

"I don't wanna be a leader right now," Misty shook her head adamantly.

"Not right now," Cordelia assured her gently, sitting next to the taller witch. Her dark eyes searched Misty's. "You need time to recover – to feel normal again."

Misty glanced aside, her eyes lingering on Cordelia's face as the Supreme brushed her thumb over a stray tear. "Your eyes – is that the color they were before?"

"Before I was blinded," Cordelia gave a half-hearted grin. "Everything was healed after –"

"I feel like – Miss Cordelia, are you the Supreme now? The air is hummin' all around you."

Cordelia gave a slight nod. She felt sorrow hit her chest as she remembered. She had only entered the trial of Seven Wonders after the trauma of Misty's death.

Misty grinned, though there was sorrow in her smile, "I knew you'd be a good leader. I knew it was you," Misty squeezed Cordelia's hand. The sadness in her eyes did not go unnoticed.

"Talk to me," Cordelia encouraged gently.

"I'm – I'm not even sure I'm alive. I mean I feel my hands, my heartbeat. I feel it. I feel your hand," she glanced down at Cordelia's palm cupped in her own, ran the tips of her fingers over the opposite side, "but I'm really afraid, Miss Cordelia. I'm still scared like I'm still dead –"

"I'm so sorry," Cordelia whispered softly, searching Misty's gaze. "I'm so very sorry. If I had thought there was even a chance, we would've attempted the moment I became Supreme. We would've – I should've trained you. It was my fault I didn't warn you, didn't –" Cordelia's eyes filled with tears again. "I blame myself. It was my failure. I am so sorry to have put you through that pain, Misty."

Misty's brow furrowed, her eyes filling with sympathy, "Miss Cordelia," she crooned softly, "it ain't your fault. It really ain't. Please don't cry," she pleaded, tugging Cordelia's hand closer and closing her eyes. "I don't wanna see you cry. I'm alive now – that's what matters, right? I'll be all right. I'll just spend a lotta time with the plants in the greenhouse and 'fore you know it I'll be right as rain, like I was before."

Cordelia laughed through her tears, "Misty Day, only you would try to comfort me after your own resurrection."

"I'm really alive?"

Cordelia nodded.

"It was –" she shook her head, drawing her hand out of Cordelia's. "It was the worst thing I've ever experienced. I kept havin' to kill this poor frog, over and over, and I'd try to bring it back and then I'd kill it again –" her eyes filled with tears.

"It wasn't real. However real it felt, it was only an illusion. Only a manifestation of what would torture your soul. You have done no wrong, Misty."

Misty smiled gratefully. "If I been dead so long, why do I feel so dang tired?"

Cordelia found herself laughing tearfully and shaking her head. "I don't know, but I'm almost afraid to let you sleep."

She had seen Misty's dead body so often in her nightmares that she did not know how she would feel seeing Misty unconscious. She swallowed, tried to strengthen herself despite the complex trauma of the night, despite the previous sorrow for the loss of Misty's life.

"I'm a little scared, too."

Cordelia gave Misty a reassuring squeeze. "Any nightmares you have, I will be here. I won't let anything happen to you," she closed her eyes briefly, felt Misty's fingers digging into her shoulders.

###

Cordelia did not sleep that night. She lay awake on the other side of the bed, clutching her stomach in phantom pain, eyes lingering on Misty and occasionally touching Misty's back to feel the in-out-in-out of her even breathing.

It was around 3AM when Misty started to cry out in her sleep. She shot up where she lay, arm flinging to the side, and Cordelia just barely avoided a strike to the face.

"You're safe, Misty. You're here now," Cordelia coaxed softly as she saw frightened eyes glimmering in the dark. Misty breathed heavily in her fear, and it took a few more soothing words before she finally reached over and wrapped her arms around Cordelia's waist, as if to assure herself that she was indeed real and alive again.

Cordelia sifted her fingers through Misty's hair, and knew they both had a long time before they were both healed.

###

Secret Place

Do you believe in magic? Or do you live just for the fantasy? To keep you free, free from harm.

There were two places crucial to Misty's recovery. The primary place was the swamp, where Misty tended to her overgrown garden and brought plants to life that had drowned in rain and mud during her absence. In the very beginning, Cordelia took Misty to the swamp five out of seven days. After all, she still had to give some time to the new members of the Coven. When they could not go to Misty's secret home amongst moss and swamp mud, they retreated to the greenhouse where it was quiet and life flowered around them in silence.

Misty seemed touched by fear despite weeks of recovery. Sleep held great anxiety for her; often Cordelia would come into Misty's room upon hearing the Cajun crying out in her sleep. Sometimes Misty would request that she be able to sleep in Cordelia's bed. ("I sleep better'n there, when I know someone's watchin' for me.")

The only time Cordelia saw Misty's old energy return was during their times at the swamp or in the greenhouse. It brought Cordelia sorrow that the joy of being alive had not yet permeated Misty's being. That old spark wasn't missing – but Misty seemed so hesitant to be free in her joy again.

Cordelia's sole purpose was to bring that joy back to Misty, somehow. She had given everything to bring Misty back, but the sacrifice was worth little if Misty didn't enjoy being alive.

"Come," Cordelia announced in the middle of the day, arriving without warning in the greenhouse where Misty was chanting an incantation, a plant flowering beneath her focus. "It's time for a field trip," she smiled softly. Her dark eyes searched Misty's face, which seemed at least to light up when Cordelia entered the room.

"Oh good, it's so dang noisy," Misty gathered her shawl and slipped it around her. "Where are we goin'?"

"It's not the swamp, but I do believe you'll enjoy it nonetheless. You may want to wear a different shawl though, something lighter. It's hot out," she offered her arm, and felt Misty's hand loop through her elbow and grasp there.

Misty gave a brief grin and nodded. She retrieved a shawl – several of which were hung around the greenhouse – of a lighter color and rejoined Cordelia's side, a small smile on her face when Cordelia glanced back at her.

Cordelia opened the passenger door for Misty, closing it after the Cajun and circling around to her side. She had set aside the day for Misty alone – Zoe and Queenie had been very giving and understanding during the whole healing process. They didn't seem to mind watching over the Coven while Cordelia helped Misty recover her happiness and appreciation for living.

"Where're we goin'?"

"It's a surprise," Cordelia gave a dimpled smile before backing out of the drive.

###

It was an hour into the drive by the time they arrived at a relatively empty parking lot. Overhead, seagulls screamed, and Cordelia grabbed her bag from the backseat, feeling the warmth of Misty's shoulder brush against her as she squeezed through the small space.

She got out of the car, and watched as it dawned on Misty's face where they were. Cordelia had driven them to a little known beach; only locals really knew about the place, but the waters were nearly as blue as they might have been in Hawaii. The sun beat down hot, but Misty got out of the car with a wide grin on her face.

"Are we at the ocean? I never seen the ocean before," she asked excitedly. She looked at Cordelia as if asking permission to go down to the beach, to where the ocean lapped up onto the sand. Cordelia only laughed, grinning widely as she waved to Misty.

"Go, silly," Cordelia urged, coming around the car and grasping the girl by the waist briefly to push her forward.

Halfway down the beach, Misty was pulling her sandals off and rushing toward the water with abandon. Her shawl slipped off and flew behind her, but Cordelia retrieved it as she watched the girl sink her feet into the sand at the water's edge. Misty hopped in place as the water covered up to her ankles, tide coming a little high.

Misty was laughing for the first time in months. Cordelia felt joy swell in her chest and she made her way down to Misty's side.

"It's so big," Misty breathed in awe, still grinning from ear to ear. "It's just so – it's beautiful. Can you feel all the life in it?"

Cordelia nodded her head, and could not help the infectious smile that grew.

"It's so beautiful, Miss Cordelia," Misty murmured. "This is really the best. You're the best friend anyone could have," those eyes trained on her reverently, and Cordelia could only give a bit of a bashful smile.

Their gazes lingered on one another, and Cordelia looped her arm through Misty's. "I just want to be sure that you remember what it's like to be truly happy," she admitted. "It's been a hard time for you and you've been through Hell – quite literally –" her breath came slow as she spoke, "You deserve to enjoy the life that's been given back to you."

Misty's lips curved in a slow smile. "Sorry if I'm a downer sometimes," she apologized.

Cordelia only laughed in response.

"I mean it. I know that you and Queenie had to do somethin' real serious to get me back, and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it."

"Misty, anyone would be traumatized after what you'd been through. This is about your time to heal. It's not about anything else," Cordelia asserted, taking Misty by the shoulders briefly.

It was Misty's genuine smile and the glitter in her eyes that rewarded Cordelia.

###

They stayed on that beach until sundown; they'd eaten lunch on the shore and as the sun fell beneath the horizon, the silver light of the moon dancing across each crest as the waves came to shore, Misty had gone waist-deep into the water.

Cordelia watched from shore, Misty's shawl wrapped around herself for warmth, and she felt a laugh bubble up in her throat as Misty splashed her hands in the water. "You're going to get sick if you're in the water too long!" She called out in warning amidst her laughter.

Misty turned in the water, grinning and shaking her head. "Don't worry, Cordelia," she called back. It was the first time she'd really used Cordelia's name in an informal, affectionate way, and Cordelia found her laughter fading into a sort of confused smile.

They shared a lingering look, and Cordelia was feeling a little curious about the energy between them before Misty started heading back to shore. Half of her dress was wet and clung tightly to her, causing Cordelia to cover her mouth in quiet laughter. "Look at you," she shook her head. "Good thing I brought a towel."

"This is almost better than my swamp," Misty tucked her arms around herself as she approached Cordelia, blonde locks illuminated as they fluttered in the wind. "Almost. Not quite."

"Do you feel somewhat better?"

"I do," Misty nodded, "Like – it was like just healin'. Like bein' baptized by the earth."

Cordelia felt a flush of relief. She could see the peace in Misty's eyes. "Come on," she reached a hand to Misty's elbow. "Let's get you dried off."

They walked side by side, somehow equals beneath the moonlight. The sand hushed gently under their footfalls, and as they got to the car, Cordelia grabbed a towel from the trunk and handed it to Misty, watching as the girl wrung out her wet clothing. "Think we can come back here again?"

"Of course. Maybe not this week, but soon," Cordelia responded as she dug her keys out. As she began to pivot and head to her side of the car, she felt a strong grasp pull her into a fierce hug. She could feel Misty's damp dress press against her, her torso flush against her own. Cordelia was only a little surprised, and hesitated before she slipped her arms around Misty.

"What would I do without you, Cordelia?" Misty spoke quietly near Cordelia's ear, the warmth of her words passing through the curtain of Cordelia's hair. "I'm so lucky I found you. You're my tribe, my whole tribe."

Cordelia vaguely remembered something in a vision, and past brief mentions of Misty talking about her tribe, how important it was to have one. To be honored with something that was so private and so important to Misty was heartwarming. Her grip tightened. She didn't know how to respond. "I just want to see you happy to live again, Misty," she spoke truthfully.

"You're a big part of that," Misty buried her face against Cordelia's neck.

Cordelia felt an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach, and as her arms slipped away from Misty she met a tearful gaze. "I'm glad," her voice was a husked whisper, and she reached in the space between them, the urge to touch Misty's face overwhelming. However, in her hesitation she pulled her hand away and caught Misty's arm. "Come, let's get you home."

Misty nodded. The drive home was relatively silent, but Cordelia could sometimes feel and see Misty's eyes lingering on her face. It was hard not to feel nervous – but so very strange.

###

Misty came in pajamas, plopped on Cordelia's bed, causing the Supreme's book to fall into her lap.

Their friendship had grown since that day at the beach. Misty was almost herself again but one thing had begun to change; while they had spent a lot of time together before the Seven Wonders, it was nothing compared to the time they spent together now. Misty was considered her Right Hand, her companion. They were inseparable in the eyes of the Coven. Even Zoe and Queenie considered them a package-deal, for when they came to Cordelia it was inevitable that Misty's opinion would weigh heavily.

Mostly, however, Misty ate kabobs and brought a lightness to Cordelia's routine.

"You know, 'Delia," Misty inquired, crawling up the bed and plopping down beside Cordelia as the Supreme tried to find the page she had been on, "I've been a little bored and I figure you 'n me should have some kinda field trip."

"It's been so busy, I don't see how we can manage it," Cordelia glanced over, her glasses sharpening her vision.

Misty took Cordelia's glasses, fingers grazing the side of Cordelia's face as she did so. She put them on, grinning when Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Why not tonight?"

"It's almost 1 in the morning," Cordelia moved to snatch her glasses back but Misty caught her wrist. "Misty," she scolded softly, "give me my glasses."

The mischievous grin on Misty's face was contagious. Cordelia had to bite back her own smile, eyes widening a little. She cocked her head a little, pouting.

"What? Don't I look good in 'em?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes again, "For goodness' sake, Misty," she struggled with Misty's grip, but failed. Her hand hung limp in Misty's. "Where would we even go?"

"I don't know. For a drive. Or to my swamp. We ain't got anything goin' on tomorrow," Misty suggested. "Slumber party at my house," the Cajun teased. "Stevie and time away from this big ol' house."

Cordelia sighed, her eyes narrowing scoldingly.

"Come on, Cordelia," Misty pleaded, leaning forward and peering at Cordelia through the stolen frames. "It's the weekend tomorrow. All the girls are goin' out to go shoppin' and Zoe is goin' with Kyle to some bed and breakfast." She collapsed in front of Cordelia, laying on her back and staring up at the Supreme.

It was this lightness that Cordelia had missed and worked so very hard to bring back out of Misty. Her eyes lingered on the Cajun's beloved face, feeling that familiar swell of emotion. This is what she had given her future children for. Most days, Cordelia knew in her heart it was worth the sacrifice despite the pain of it.

"Please?" Misty pouted

"O-kay."

Misty squealed, hopped off the bed, and disappeared into Cordelia's large closet. She tossed out one of Cordelia's empty suitcases. Luckily the Supreme caught it, and soon she was stuffing clothing and necessities for a two day stay at Misty's.

###

The light had blown out at Misty's shack, but they lay shoulder-to-shoulder in candlelight, Stevie singing and weaving magic in the safe haven the swamp provided them. Inwardly, Cordelia marveled at the friendship that had grown between them and how very important Misty had become – not just to the Coven, but mostly to her. When Cordelia was most stressed, Misty knew with a glance. All the Supreme had to do was catch Misty's gaze to express the things she was feeling. A large portion of their communication was completely non-verbal.

"I never had a best friend," Cordelia spoke softly after a long bout of silence (silence meant listening to Stevie and listening to Misty murmur the lyrics). "I grew up in that house – there were sometimes other witches but I felt so lonely so much of the time." She glanced aside at Misty, whose face was so near her own. The distance (or lack thereof) between them wasn't unusual. Cordelia had begun to feel like Misty was an extension of her – a piece of flesh that lived separately from her body and soul, but was somehow the same.

"I didn't know that," Misty observed. "I don't see how anyone could resist bein' your friend," she shook her head, looking genuinely confused. "You're just about the nicest person I know."

Cordelia gave a small, almost apologetic smile. "I felt isolated. My mother was the Supreme, a very absent one, and I took the brunt of that. The Coven slowly died the longer she was absent – it wasn't until I turned 20 that I took over the responsibilities of running the house. The Council had retreated in my mother's absence. Until Nan arrived, I had been alone in the house for about a year," Cordelia shared, remembering the time a little sadly. "When I saw your memories here – I related to them. Living in fear and isolation for survival, but always longing for some kind of connection." Her vision became less focused as she saw some distant past, as if it were another life.

She was drawn into the present when she felt a warm hand slip into her own. Fingers laced between hers, and Cordelia looked in slight surprise at the contact. Misty watched her with a certain empathy. "You know what I mean then, about lookin' for your tribe."

Cordelia nodded briefly, and part of her expected Misty to let her hand go, but she didn't. Their hands were clasped between them, and Cordelia felt a swell of emotion. Everything she felt generally had some sort of expression, some words she could muddle out to explain, but right now she merely felt overwhelmed by her connection to Misty.

"I'm so glad I'm alive," Misty murmured in the warm air between them. "If only 'cause you and me were able to – be like this."

Cordelia's eyes lingered on Misty for a few moments, before the tension became too palpable. The Supreme shifted closer and broke the tension by resting her head on Misty's shoulder, clutching the Cajun's hand close to her. She hadn't really ever held Misty's hand like this, and her attention was hyper-focused on the sensation of Misty's thumb running over the surface of her skin.

"You think anyone would mind if we slept in the same bed more often?"

The question made Cordelia smile a little, "I don't think so," she answered, despite her immediate gut response that said she might lose face as the voice of authority. "Why?"

"I sleep better when I'm with you, no nightmares," Misty informed quietly, somewhere near Cordelia's temple. The woman had shifted, her warmth moving closer. "It's like – bein' protected. I always feel protected with you."

Cordelia smiled against Misty's shoulder, feeling grateful for the information. "If you'd like to stay with me more often, I don't mind."

Silence fell between them again, Cordelia slowly becoming conscious of the sound of Misty's heartbeat, her breathing. It didn't take long to drift into a peaceful sleep.

###

Misty always woke up early. When Cordelia awoke, feeling cold and a little ruffled by the sound of birds chirping very loudly, it took her a moment to realize she was in Misty's shack. It wasn't long after this that her hand grasped the empty space beside her and realized Misty wasn't with her. Her limbs were stiff, but Cordelia slipped off the bed, tucked her arms around her, and realizing her hair must look a mess, sleepily stumbled into Misty's garden.

The witch was wearing her sun-hat, snacking on some kind of berries, and watering the plants. She looked so attentive that Cordelia didn't think she would be noticed, but Misty's eyes darted up immediately and she smiled.

"You're awake! I made some tea," she placed her watering can on the ground, trotted around the side of the shack, and came back with a metal cup full of hot tea. It smelled vaguely of ginger, mint and a few other herbs. "To wake you up," Misty informed expectantly.

Cordelia cupped the mug in her hands, sipped cautiously to avoid burning her mouth. "You're up so early," she rasped softly. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Slept perfect," Misty grinned before she stepped backward, "did you sleep alright?"

Cordelia nodded sleepily. "Do you need help with anything?"

Misty popped another berry in her mouth and shook her head, pivoting and grabbing her watering can, "I'm nearly done here. You ain't ready to go back to the house yet, are you?"

Pondering, she shook her head in response, "No. Another day here, like you planned," Cordelia allowed. "Things should be fine for that long. I admit, I kind of enjoy the silence out here."

"You deserve a little break, Miss Cordelia," Misty gave Cordelia a somewhat stern look. "You don't take enough of 'em, you know."

"It's hard to take a vacation with so many new girls, so many new students to teach."

"Gonna burn yourself out real fast, firefly," Misty said in a sing-song sort of way.

Cordelia smiled at the concern. "I must look terrible," she changed the subject, setting the tea down on one of the old wooden tables some potted plants sat on. She sifted her fingers through her hair, disappearing into the shack and retrieving her brush from her bag. She came back out, brushing her hair as she watched Misty with her plants.

There was something beautiful about the focus Misty had. Sometimes she would duck down in front of a plant, examining the leaves and touching them as gently as she might a very fragile thing. Cordelia came back out – having stashed away her hairbrush again - to find Misty in one of these moments, and she felt a smile lingering at the edge of her lips.

"What?" Misty glanced up, stopped mid-water, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Cordelia shook her head. "I just don't think you realize how wonderful you are," the words came from that deep, aching part of Cordelia's heart, and it was unexpected. The amount of affection in each sound was enough to make Misty blush and straighten her posture.

"I – thanks," Misty stammered slightly, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. She seemed to respond to the attention bashfully.

She couldn't quite explain it, but Cordelia found herself suddenly vulnerable in a way. There was a truth she'd yet to admit to herself, and she certainly hinted at it in these rare moments of pure admiration. She fidgeted a little before having a seat at the edge of one of Misty's tables.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" The question came hesitantly, and the trepidation made Cordelia glance up. When Misty received a nod in response, she moved a little closer to Cordelia. "I know you had to give somethin' to bring me back. What was it?"

Cordelia's expression fell. The question had truly come from nowhere and suddenly Cordelia felt a wash of reactions. She furrowed her brow, eyes immediately dropping from Misty's. She shook her head. "It's not important, Misty. It's not. I did what I had to do."

"You didn't kill someone for me, did you?"

Cordelia's attention snapped up again, and she felt confusion. "Is that really what you believe? Or what you were worried about?"

"I mean, a life for a life, right? They wouldn't give me my life back without payment. I'm not that stupid."

"I never – I don't think you're stupid I just… what was important was retrieving you. The Coven needed you," Cordelia insisted, stepping forward and closing some of the distance between them.

"Tell me?" Misty inquired, her voice small and fearful. She reached forward and grasped Cordelia's hands. "I been – I feel like it's important for me to know what was given for me to be alive again."

"You were in Hell – we – I didn't have a choice. I had to get you out of there. I had failed you and I would not fail you again."

"Cordelia," Misty insisted more firmly, locking eyes with Cordelia.

"He – we summoned Baron Samedi. Queenie did. He made me choose."

"Between what and what?"

"You and –" Cordelia felt a wash of guilt. She did not want this guilt to rest in any way on Misty, "I had to choose whether to save you, or to sacrifice my ability to have children."

Misty had come to know Cordelia well enough by now to know the depth of sacrifice of which she spoke. All Cordelia had ever wanted to do was have a family, to raise children of her own so that she may give them what she wasn't. Her expression betrayed her absolute shock and confusion.

"I had to get you back, Misty. There was no choice. It was you or something that may not have ever happened in the first place. You were more important."

Misty shook her head, "'Delia," she spoke Cordelia's name in a way that made Cordelia's emotions from that night return. Tears flooded her eyes as she looked at Misty, feeling shame, sorrow. "You gave up that – you gave up all your dreams just to bring me back?"

Cordelia couldn't dignify a response. She wished Misty had never asked. "There was no choice. I would not fail you a second time. I would have given whatever he asked," she felt hot tears stinging her eyes, trailing down her face.

Misty closed the distance between them, wrapping Cordelia in a comforting embrace. She felt Misty's fingers clasp the back of her head gently as lips pressed to her temple. "I'm so sorry, 'Delia. I'm so sorry."

Cordelia had not been given time to mourn the loss of what she considered to be her hopes and dreams, her future away from the Coven. Something in Misty's comforting embrace unlocked that place of grief and suddenly she was clinging to Misty, wrought with tears and sobs that caused her shoulders to tremble.

"Why would you do that?"

"I couldn't fail you. It was my fault you were stuck there, and I had to bring you home."

Misty clutched Cordelia tightly. She brewed a second tea once Cordelia had stopped crying – chamomile and lavender to calm her down.

###

They didn't spend much more time speaking about the revelation of that morning. Instead, Misty seemed focused on making sure Cordelia had a relaxing and enjoyable weekend in the swamp. She'd cooked them a fresh lunch, which they ate sitting knees-to-knees on Misty's bed. The early morning grief gave way to laughter and the natural flow of joy that seemed to occur between them.

Even in the late afternoon heat, Cordelia felt totally relaxed. She was laying on Misty's stomach, legs hanging off the side of the bed, while Misty sang Stevie. Cordelia's eyes closed, absorbing the sound of Misty's voice, when she felt fingers tangle with her own again for the second time in their friendship. It felt completely natural, and Cordelia treasured the warmth of human contact.

She'd never felt so comfortable with anyone in her life. She felt like soon her cheeks might ache with all the smiling she did when it was just herself and Misty. This weekend had changed something in her – opened some unnamable door. Cordelia's head lifted subtly with each breath Misty took in, and the Cajun witch was busy sifting her free fingers through Cordelia's shoulder-length hair.

Cordelia lifted her gaze (a somewhat difficult task from this angle) and watched Misty carefully. She found a pair of loving eyes staring down at her and she felt her cheeks flush.

"Your eyes are my favorite eyes," Misty drawled in an affectionate way. "You know, it's different, but when you were blind, when I first met you, I still felt like you could see right into me."

Cordelia gave a brief smile. She remembered that first meeting so well. Remembered how intense the tactile contact had been – it was a sudden connection, and while she didn't realize it at the time, it foreshadowed their current bond in some subtle way.

"Now it's even more so. Your eyes are just so dark sometimes when you look at me, it feels like – I don't know. Feels like intense or somethin'," Misty explained.

"I'm much fonder of my own eyes. I must've looked atrocious with the – when I had two differently colored ones."

"Those were pretty too, but I like yours best like this."

Her mind flipped through various key moments. The first meeting, their times in the greenhouse, seeing Misty for the first time with actual sight. It was as if the significance of each moment had been somewhat lost on her until now. She had always deeply admired Misty, but it was not until Misty had died that it had clicked that the young Cajun was far more important than just a possible Supreme. On a very human level, Cordelia had always cared most about Misty, though their interactions had always been subtle. "I hope you know how grateful I am for you, Misty Day." It came out soft – almost like an admission.

"Just about as grateful as I am for you, Cordelia."

They spent the afternoon laying on the bed – Cordelia's legs dangling off the edge of the bed, head resting gently on Misty's stomach or chest, depending on the time that passed. It was perhaps the first time since their friendship began that Cordelia could let herself dwell on the butterflies that danced in her stomach when Misty's fingers sifted through her hair, or those intensely light-filled eyes focused directly on her.

When Cordelia dressed for bed, she was surprised to find Misty's eyes lingering on her just long enough to be noticeable. She climbed under the covers with Misty, tucked herself against the Cajun, and fell asleep with the curious feeling that this weekend had changed them inexplicably.

###

The first night home was strange. Cordelia had to resist the urge to touch Misty – as something had clicked that she was craving contact with Misty nearly all the time. She found herself itching to reach out and grasp the Cajun's hand, even at moments that lacked any stress or stimulation. It felt natural to feel this way, and Cordelia could not understand why.

They spent a portion of time late that night in the greenhouse, the flow between them natural as ever. There were moments, though, where Cordelia had to dial down the racing of her heart. It seemed to be triggered in simple moments – they would be standing side by side, arms pressing against one another, and she would just catch Misty in a moment of excitement – but the tension would linger just long enough to make Cordelia nervous.

When they were cleaning up afterward, Misty reached around Cordelia without thinking.

Cordelia shouldn't have turned around just then – Misty's body pressed up behind her own – but she did anyway. She found herself pressed between the table and Misty, her hands on either side of Misty's hips and she had no explanation or good excuse for this. The Cajun seemed surprised by this, but didn't put any space between their hips. She was searching Cordelia's face for an answer, her expression just a little perplexed.

Cordelia's breathing was a little labored as the tension between them built, and Misty's slender fingers sifted through a lock of Cordelia's hair.

This was a little inappropriate, unprofessional.

Not all-together unexpected.

Misty's mouth parted just a little, as if she wanted to say something. Cordelia felt panic swell in her chest, and she slipped gently from Misty's grip. "I'm sorry – I don't know what came over me," she breathed the words, and found her feet carrying her away from the greenhouse. She cursed herself for being so silly, for being so reactive to a deep connection.

She closed her bedroom door behind her, ten minutes later, only to have it swing open again.

"'Delia, we gotta talk about what just happened –"

"I know, it was completely inappropriate. I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm not," Misty responded firmly. "You're the most important person to me in the whole world, Cordelia. Don't you think somethin's bound to happen when you got all these feelin's swimmin' around?"

Cordelia hadn't been completely conscious of any feelings – but Misty was right. She stood, a little nervously, across the room, imploring Misty silently to help her sort it out. And suddenly Misty was crossing the room, a determined spark in her eye. Her hands cupped Cordelia's jaw and tilted her head up just a little and suddenly, oh, her mouth was soft and warm and loving.

Cordelia heard herself give a little sound into the kiss. It felt like every nerve in her body had just awoken from a long slumber; her hands hung stunned in the space between them for a moment, just before she grasped Misty's hips and tugged her body just a little closer.

She hadn't known – until now – that she had wanted this with every fiber of her being.

###

The night of their first kiss had ended innocently. They'd both agreed, breathlessly, that they wanted to take things slowly and do things the right way. It was the love and passion that swept in high tide over every one of Cordelia's senses.

Suddenly every time she caught Misty's eye in a room full of sister witches, in front of Zoe and Queenie, she could not help the smile that hinted at her lips. Sometimes Misty would follow her upstairs and when she least expected, would close her briefly in a room – just long enough to kiss her passionately to remind her of how she felt.

Cordelia was swept away by the depth of Misty's affection. It took them a couple weeks before they got an opportunity alone at the swamp house again, and by then they had stolen so many kisses that Cordelia had lost count. It seemed that every kiss came with more desire, more emotion, and at night when Misty would climb into bed with her, Cordelia would marvel at the simple feeling of holding Misty's hand in her own.

Misty slipped into bed their first night in the swamp – since things had become romantic – and Cordelia felt the electric shock that came with her kiss. Misty caught her lips in a passionate kiss, her inhibitions gone now that they were safely alone, and Cordelia felt her whole being ignite with a kind of slow-burning fire.

When they pulled away, words spilled from Cordelia's lips that she had never truly meant until now – nor understood until this moment.

"I love you, Misty Day," Cordelia breathed against Misty's mouth. "I don't know when it happened and sometimes I still can't believe it," she pulled away just a little, but not before her lips brushed Misty's.

Misty sat up just a little, her eyes gleaming in the dark. "I love you," her whisper was warm but hinted at awe.

Cordelia's fingers traced along Misty's jaw, and the older woman found herself eagerly tugging Misty into a kiss, one thigh slipping around Misty's hips and urging her downward. The kiss became hungry and tainted with real lust, the consuming kind that left flesh singed.

Misty's tongue teased at Cordelia's bottom lip before deepening their kiss, her hands tugging Cordelia's hips hard upward against her own, a hand slipping along Cordelia's thigh and holding it against her hip. Passion spilled over Cordelia the minute she felt Misty's hips cant downward and into her own.

There was no turning back from here, and Cordelia's last coherent thought was that she didn't just love Misty, but somewhere, she had started to fall in love with Misty. With her compassion, her beauty, her strength, every little thing about her.

She wanted Misty, wanted to worship and devour her, wanted to be devoured by her. Cordelia's kiss became more forceful, her hands slipping to Misty's ass and squeezing in a way that made her hips cant downward into Cordelia's own again.

Suddenly Cordelia was stripping Misty's dress off; her body was bathed in moonlight as Cordelia sat up, her mouth trailing hotly up Misty's flat stomach, hungry and demanding, her fingers trailing over Misty's back as she found an aroused nipple and gloried in the reaction she got as she circled her tongue over the tip. Misty's hands were forcefully pulling at Cordelia's shirt, tugging it over her head, and their lips crashed together again soon after.

Misty rocked atop Cordelia's hips, but Cordelia begat a gasp as soon as she moved her open palm over Misty's inner-thigh, upward to where it felt hottest, and slipped first one and then two fingers inside Misty. The blonde gasped, eyes dilating as she looked down at Cordelia. She let out a soft and slow groan as she slipped downward, pressed her hips down so slowly that it made Cordelia ache despite the lack of stimulation.

Misty rocked slowly at first, adjusting to Cordelia's slow and building rhythm; each touch was attentive and intuitive. Cordelia wanted Misty to feel exactly how much fire she ignited in her. As Cordelia captured Misty's lips in another passionate kiss, she felt Misty's need grow, her rhythm and breath quicken. Her touch became more insistent and demanding, pressing a little deeper, until she felt Misty coming close to that unbearable edge.

Deftly, she switched their positions, using her hips to add to the pressure, a mouth latching onto a nipple. Misty's grip was almost bruising on Cordelia's shoulders, her hips knocking hard into Cordelia's palm the deeper Cordelia pressed.

"'Delia –" Misty rasped a plea, and suddenly her mouth was on Cordelia's, whimpering and gasping, her hips setting an irregular rhythm the closer she got, "Baby," she moaned into Cordelia's mouth, and suddenly Cordelia was being clung to as Misty's head fell back and her insides throbbed, locked momentarily on Cordelia's touch.

Cordelia brought her down to earth slowly, kissed her sweetly as the glaze faded from Misty's eyes. She wasn't expecting it, but life returned to Misty immediately. The Cajun pressed a demanding kiss to Cordelia's mouth and Cordelia was on the bottom again, her hands held on either side of her as Misty kissed the parts of her that were aching and most desirous of attention.

Misty's kisses lowered until Cordelia was gasping with anticipation, a palm pressing against her inner-thigh and spreading her. A moment of vulnerability passed quickly, because cool air was replaced with a warm tongue, a kiss that did things to Cordelia's body she never knew could happen.

The birds were chirping by the time they were spent, bare bodies entwined underneath blankets. They would return to the house feeling completely changed, the union between them whole and complete. Nobody questioned anymore when Misty slept in Cordelia's bed every night, or when Cordelia clicked the bedroom lock shut. Sometimes, when nobody was paying attention, Misty would slip her hand into Cordelia's, or press her lips to Cordelia's cheek before they parted. Everyone seemed to understand that these two souls, however unlikely, seemed to have been made for one another and they were happiest when they were together.