Wait, a bayonetta fanfic

Wait

by Archristol

Pebbles of crystalline were pulled by gravity – off of one's cheek and unto another's. Both cheeks, although wet, stayed frozen – emotionless.

Then there was the immediate sound of a light thud and splash like a bird had fallen. And for a moment, all that could be heard was drizzling rain.

Until a woman spoke, her voice merely a tad louder than the melancholic dribbling.

"Jeanne..." Bayonetta called the unconscious woman she cradled in her arms and against her chest, her knees on puddled ground. "...Why?" she asked despondently, "Why must you keep doing this?"

The younger witch had saved her time and time again. She was never in obligation to, yet still, the higher ranked Umbra suffered for her sake, expecting no reward. It was unfair. And it had become too much for Bayonetta to bear.

The dark head carefully leaned in, tucking the pale, cool forehead beneath her neck and chin. "You didn't have to..." she muttered quietly, eyes closed, "You never had to..." she whispered softer and softer while her amiable clinch grew tighter, "I was careless," she tilted her head, resting her damp cheek on Jeanne's forehead, "Forgive me..."

And in that very rare instance, Bayonetta surrendered her remaining walls and silently wept.

[-]

Send your dreams
Where nobody hides

Give your tears
To the tide

No time
No time

[-]

The sight was bright, the temperature was rightly chilly, the tune of birds was comforting, and the smell of cinnamon was accentuating to the start of an already pleasant day.

Although, delving deeper inside the humungous and festively decorated room – was a particularly gloomy witch. She lingered by its doorway, staring at a silver watch in her hand as if she was mystified by its many stylish crevices.

But she wasn't. Everything her mind encompassed was anxiety.

It had been eight hours since she left Inferno and successfully reclaimed her Umbra sister's soul. And in coming home, she had anticipated her roommate's direct welcome. However, to her dismay, nothing changed and the woman stayed comatose in her bed.

She tried to be positive though, and decked their house with plenty of Christmas ornaments. She even baked a gingerbread cathedral, hoping to illustrate a story later on. But then hours passed, the sun had risen, and the grand buffet she prepared for two had gone cold.

Presently, she fiddled with the clock she clutched dearly, contemplating how she could keep optimistic when she obviously couldn't anymore.

Then suddenly, the light in the room got a little brighter. And for the fifth time, she calmly approached the king-sized bed and sat on a side, her hip a few inches from her friend's lifeless hand.

"Jeanne." Bayonetta donned a happy façade, the corners of her lips curving upwards. "Rise and shine, my dear. You wouldn't want to miss Christmas morning, would you?" Her tone was wholly inviting, like whenever she spoke about tea parties and how lovely they were.

Remembering and regretting how she had always demanded for the duty-bound woman to do most of their chores, she guaranteed this time, "Oh. And you needn't worry about running any more errands. I took care of the missing caviar." She gazed thoughtfully upon her and smiled sweetly.

Absentmindedly, she patted Jeanne's hand as if to reassure her – and the mere gesture sent a pang of need in her heart. It burned and threatened to throw her off composure. "So then... You can quit the playacting now," she swiftly accused, in fear of her shapely brows furrowing worriedly. "Because... No matter how long you keep this up – I'm not going to kneel and beg for you to awaken," she chuckled to herself diminutively, the irony she presented upon herself gnawing at her.

Drained of words, blue-gray eyes perused the slumbering form for any hint of movement. Perhaps a miniscule twitch of her slender fingers or a small contortion of her plump lips or a minor squint of her peaceful eyelids or even a meager difference in her shallow intake of breath. Anything.

Finding she could no longer use her silver tongue to rouse her friend, Bayonetta slid her fingers underneath the dormant ones and held her hand. "Jeanne?" she attempted with a kinder tone, yet with a budding tetchiness. "Come on, Jeanne, wake up," she commanded, tensely shaking her hand.

Alas, to no avail.

"My patience is running thin!" Bayonetta finally admitted, eyebrows crunched angrily yet eyes glistened with grief. When she felt a frown beginning to surface, she clenched her teeth from within and disrupted it. She swallowed a large lump in her throat too, unable to avoid the realness and severity of her best friend's miserable condition in front of her any further.

It was easier to pretend that Jeanne had only been catching up on much needed sleep. It was too depressing to see her completely powerless. She seemed to have constant control. Even when she was hurt in many battles before, it had been foreseen – because, in most cases, it was for Bayonetta's benefit. But when her soul burst out of her body and demonic arms emerged from hell then gripped at her limbs – everything was apparent in her eyes as she struggled to be free. For the first time, she was utterly helpless.

Beaten, Bayonetta raised Jeanne's hand and clenched it tightly in between both of her hands. "Jeanne..." she enunciated the name like a prayer, bringing the hand closer to her face, "Please..." She paused for a few seconds to unfold the pastel hand and maneuver it to cup her own face, "Please, Jeanne..."

It couldn't remain this way… They were supposed to have an eternity… They've barely even begun…

Bayonetta hunched forward, elbows sinking into the bed. "Why won't you wake up?" Her soft-hued beryl eyes were glazed with desperation – at least, until she buried her face into the bed, keeping the inactive palm under her skin. And then with a ragged breath, she murmured lastly, "Jeanne..."

[-]

There's no end
There is no goodbye

Disappear
With the night

[-]

"I'm home," Bayonetta declared as soon as she stepped inside their house through the front doors. She wore a faint smile on her weary but otherwise beautiful visage, grocery shopping bags hanging on either of her hands. The smile didn't last for another second, however. After she noticed there was no response.

She inhaled profoundly to recapture her strength before she shut the wooden double doors behind her, improved her clutch on the bags, and then marched onwards to the kitchen. She opened all the necessary pantry doors and refrigerator drawers then sorted her numerous groceries, a method she rather copied from Jeanne.

For weeks, Bayonetta did the tasks that Jeanne used to do. And for some unknown reason, she felt her accomplishing of these tasks appease her terrible yearning for the woman.

No. In actuality, her reveling in doing what Jeanne would've done merely postponed her heartache, placing the feeling in a shelf until it eventually overflows and they fall over as a whole.

Discovering this, Bayonetta bit her quivering lower lip, sealed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose – as if the deed would help alleviate the pain.

Pathetic. She wasn't about to shed a tear and break her five day streak of not crying, was she? She couldn't let Rodin win their bet.

"Cereza?"

Out of nowhere, her name was mentioned. The utterance was very short and barely audible… But she heard it and knew exactly where it came from. Or better – from who.

"Jeanne...?" she nearly gasped but refrained from doing so, staring bug-eyed into the bedroom's direction. Totally stunned, she waited for the diminutive squeak from bed springs to jolt her into action. "Jeanne!" she exclaimed with minute shock, walking swiftly toward her location.

There, sixteen steps away from the connecting hallway, was Jeanne – red, yellow, blue, green, and purple little lights attractively highlighting her lethargic form in the dimly lit room.

Bayonetta held her breath for an instant as she strove to contain her delight, the silver-haired woman looking more like a gift-wrapped Christmas present by the second.

She was right there.

Jeanne was doubled over, one hand clutching the sheets to cover her naked body, the other on her forehead.

When the platinum eyes finally rose and beheld blue moons, Bayonetta eagerly rushed the sixteen steps, though her stride calm.

"How are you feeling?" Bayonetta immediately asked as she propped a knee on the bed and leaned in to take a peek of the woozy witch.

Keen to fulfill the onlooker's wish, Jeanne tucked an extra-long side bang in an ear and enabled the shorter haired woman to gaze into her eyes entirely. She endeavored to model an exquisite smile next, but her head throbbed and Bayonetta had to lay a hand on her shoulder to keep her upright.

"You should lie down, still, for a while," the older of the two suggested, her tone compassionately serious, "Conserve your energy for a full recovery. Your journey back must've taken a toll..."

"I'm sorry..." Jeanne blurted, too exhausted to think of a more fitting reply.

While Jeanne reclined back on the bed, Bayonetta shook her head like it was the silliest thing the sagacious Umbran ever mustered. "Don't be," she insisted then promptly reached for the hands she had taken so much liking to.

Jeanne watched intently as Bayonetta shifted into a more comfortable position as well and then very slowly began to plant kisses on the tips of her fingers and the backs of her hands.

"Jeanne..." Bayonetta beamed at her sincerely, "I'm so glad." With utmost ardency, she giggled briefly like what was forthcoming was the silliest thing she would ever muster. "This'll be the final time. I'll never let you leave my side ever again."

"Cereza..." Jeanne's eyebrows scrunched immensely from the heartfelt confession.

Mutually overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions washing through them, they allowed about a dozen seconds to stretch between them, purely observing and appreciating each other.

Never, ever, did they share this simple act with anyone else but one another. They were Umbra sisters and the best of friends, everyone else wasn't worth the emotional investment. But even though it seemed uncomplicated – they could only truly be serious when it came to the other one's safety. Anything more was a distant universe unexplored.

Therefore…

Bayonetta was first to become terrified of the sudden strange twinkle in the platinum orbs and, undeniably, the strange intensity which resided in her own heart – thus, causing her to break eye contact and gradually release her grasp.

Jeanne could solely gawk at her.

"Aren't you in need of anything? You must require something by now. Shall I fetch you some water? Or would a glass of wine be better?" Bayonetta pried abruptly in swift succession, moderately enthusiastic and attentive, hiding whatever was there two seconds ago and the entirety of her unrest moments ago.

A tad unprepared, Jeanne declined her flatly, "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Are you sure?"

She bobbed her head, "Yes," then she speedily diverted the topic, keeping the other witch in a conversation her top priority, "I see the house is still merry. Did I make it in time for Christmas then?"

"Yes," Bayonetta lied straightaway, "Of course."

Astonished by her answer, Jeanne momentarily surveyed the thousands of Christmas lights on the walls and the ceiling plus the Christmas tree and the pile of presents beneath it – and then she went back and surveyed the brunette's poise.

She was physically unwavering. Nothing was a dead giveaway. Except for her lips, which were in too much of a tight line for Jeanne's tastes.

"This is... Very nice of you, Cereza," Jeanne acknowledged mildly, "But really... It's okay. You can tell me the truth."

Bayonetta had predicted that she would be predicted and nodded instantly.

Neither of them truly even believed in the meaning of Christmas. The annual holiday was just their perfect excuse to spend time together alone.

Decisive in lifting their spirits, Bayonetta jutted a fanciful hip as she strut a foot forward, leisurely bent over, and whimsically tapped her friend's nose. "The truth is… I've been whipping your ass up, trying to wake you, you know..." she pressed at it firmly a last time before steadily returning to her previous pose, a hand on a hip.

"Frankly, you chose the wrong method," Jeanne snickered fleetingly then formed a small smirk, "You should of been gentler."

"Oh? Should I have given you a kiss then, sleeping beauty?" Bayonetta fashioned a smirk of her own, aware of the term that was once labeled on her.

Jeanne scoffed, regaining her raspy potty mouth, "You can kiss my ass. I'm not a damsel in distress."

"Don't tempt me," Bayonetta jested with a wink, mocking her flirtatiously.

Not in her usual conservative temper, Jeanne shrugged, playing along. She then waited for Bayonetta to adjust her thighs beside her before she asked the question she had been meaning to ask, "How long have I been slumbering?"

"About a month," Bayonetta estimated. "So you remember what happened?"

"Being dragged to Inferno?"

She was smoothing the creases on the bed sheets when the question struck and she bit her tongue ruefully. "I apologize. I take my question back. Do not recall more."

"It's fine, Cereza," Jeanne disclosed, reaching for her wrist, "Thank you for salvaging my soul."

"What?" Bayonetta arched a single eyebrow, somewhat offended, "Quit patronizing me. It was undoubtedly my fault you were there in the first place."

"But it wasn't an easy feat."

"Neither is being lost in Inferno."

"Fair enough. You've won this round," Jeanne half-heartedly threw her hands up to prove her surrender, "It was a living nightmare."

Disappointed in herself, Bayonetta released a heavy breath then affectionately fastened her eyes on Jeanne's gray ones, "What a selfish asshole I've been. I was overwhelmed by the fact that your soul has finally returned and that my efforts had not been in vain... When I should be the one that thanked you."

"You would've done the same for me."

A single Christmas light bulb exploded as Bayonetta stated coolly, "Just accept the thank you like a good little girl, Jeanne."

Jeanne laughed, distinguishing the accident as Bayonetta's irascibility snapping. She had never been able to annoy the dark head as much as the dark head typically annoyed her. It was a refreshing change to have their roles reversed.

Noticing what could be funny, Bayonetta feebly tittered with her too, easy to forgive. Their laughter was short-lived though, as she strove to tend her stubborn patient, "Jeanne… Shouldn't I provide you with something? Because, frankly, I think I really should."

Admiring her perseverance, Jeanne tested for what she might want, momentarily peeping at her privates, "I'm clean, aren't I? I feel quite fresh enough."

"Yes~" Bayonetta touchily responded, her voice fluctuating. "But before you have any weird notions, I used magic to keep your exact state prior to your sleep."

"Well then, I'm satisfied. Thank you," Jeanne politely held a hand, gesturing for her not to get anything.

"Well then, don't you have a head constructed of granite," Bayonetta hastily retorted, unwilling to yield, "Allow me to take care of you, will you?"

"If you wanted to leave to retrieve something that badly, you could have already left, Cereza."

"Alright, fine," she tilted her chin high then laid both hands flat on her bed in preparation to stand, "I see you no longer have need of common courtesy. From now on, I'll simply do as I please in your behalf."

But before she could get on her feet, Jeanne caught her fingers and proclaimed, "I was merely kidding. Don't leave. Stay for a few more minutes," she pleaded, rubbing a thumb soothingly on the fair skin, "Just a little chat." She detached her hand then motioned for an area beside her and demanded, "Here, lie down."

Bayonetta gave the designated area of silky sheets and fluffy pillows a scrutinizing onceover before she groaned in displeasure and hesitantly complied. She gingerly removed her high heels then carefully settled down beside her. Jeanne only gave one glance until they purely lied side by side, staring ahead as if they were gazing at actual stars and not just a Christmas lights infested ceiling.

"But first..." Bayonetta imposed firmly, but not at the cost of her great concern, "You tell me how you feel."

"How I feel?" Jeanne mumbled in deep contemplation, not turning to face her.

"Yes. Or is that too difficult of a question for you?" she teased with a bit more condescending tone, emphasizing her urgent need for an answer. "Do you feel cold? Do you feel hungry? Do you feel happy to be alive?"

Living centuries upon centuries, could it make a person cynical?

After ten seconds of no reply, she rolled her eyes and sighed, "Don't bore me, Jea–"

"I love you."

The murmur cut her off so quickly and fluttered by ever so quietly, Bayonetta could only eye the girl beside her with a dumbfound look on her face.

Perceiving the blue moons upon her, Jeanne finally pivoted her head and basked in their glow. "I love you, Cereza," she ascertained sternly.

"Jeanne..." The name wafted out of Bayonetta's lips by itself, her complete cognizance captured by the fog that was Jeanne's sterling eyes.

For how was the possibility ignored? She was immature. Overcome by pride. Displaying limited emotion. Just offering a hi when she wanted to give a smile.

"I love you so much," Jeanne repeated, afraid her sincerity not delivering. "Forgive me for taking this long. Enough time has been wasted," she began to passionately elucidate, eyes honest, lips proving, voice contrite, "Drowning in the depths of Inferno, I realized..."

"Stop," Bayonetta shot in monotone, her countenance all of a sudden unaffected.

"But I––" Silver eyes broadened immensely, panicked.

Could she be scared?

"Stop talking," the brunette ordered, devoid of any tenderness, it was almost vicious.

"Cere–"

Jeanne flinched as rosy lips darted forward and met with hers – eager to catch it, she immediately shut her own eyes, wallowing in the softness of the romantic muscle.

––But only for a couple of seconds.

Bayonetta had pulled away by an inch to trace her porcelain face with her fingers and whisper: "Show me."

She had known all along. How could she not have known?

Fervent, Jeanne obeyed, inching forward to promptly slither a sly tongue into Bayonetta's waiting mouth. She practically squirmed inwardly as the dark head was so supportive of her advance, already shifting to accommodate her.

Bayonetta had efficiently disposed of her glasses and moved to straddle her newfound lover's hips, all while focused on the amorous lip-lock. The older witch could swear that she could burn at Jeanne's touch, smooth arms sneaking under her shirt and snaking around her waist then upper back, hauling her closer.

There was nothing to be afraid of…

For centuries, her love was everlasting…

"Give me..." vanishing into the skintight embrace, Bayonetta beseeched in between the short transitions of their kiss, her breath hot, "All your love..."

And as a hand lurked down her abdomen and a tantalizing warmth crept up her neck, she could perceive the three words being said again.

[-]

No time
No time
No time
No time
No time

Author's Note

I was so sad writing the first half of this. Lol. I had to like… Take a breather and eat some chocolate after every two paragraphs. Haha. And this was supposed to be an art piece instead, but then I thought… I wouldn't be able to illustrate the rest of what happens… Maybe if I wasn't lazy.

Anyway, this is not connected at all to my other story of them. Obviously, my plans for that fic doesn't coincide with Bayonetta 2's plot.

I feel so much for Jeanne. It shows on this fic, I hope. I think that not many really understand her sacrifice for Bayonetta since the game is so lighthearted and kind of ignores her hardships. I mean… I see comments in various places how the song Love is Blue is about Luka… And it irks me. We just all ignore Jeanne. Seriously… It more heavily implies Bayonetta's loss of Jeanne than anything. Shimazaki and the Bloody Fate's character designer both even drew some suggestive art. And Kamiya watches Takarazuka, doesn't block BayoJan tweets, and, in fact, retweeted the pieces I drew of them. I don't know… Fuck if I'm crazy…

Sorry for the rant. Thanks for reading. And forgive me if I haven't updated my other fics in time with your expectations. I'm just... I just can't work without a strong feeling to drive me. Or rather... I don't want to write unless I feel strongly for it.

Song

"Wait" by M83

Credits