Title: Briefly
Summary: Dana and Maureen meet in the desert and fall in love.
Rating: T for vague sexual references.
Word Count: 1006
Other Chapters: No.
Disclaimer: Welcome To Night Vale and all related trademarks belong to Commonplace Books and Joseph Fink. I do not in any way profit from the use of these trademarks.
Pairings: Intern Dana/Intern Maureen
Contains: hurt/comfort, romance,
Warnings: Spoilers for "Cookies"
She smelled like oranges, and her warm brown eyes were Dana's only comfort in the never-ending desert in which she found herself.
Dana hadn't known Maureen before, though she felt as though she ought to have, and she wished she had. Maureen and Dana had both gone to Night Vale High School, and Maureen had only been two years younger than Dana. They'd gone to different universities, and Dana was trapped in the dog park several semesters before Maureen applied for the intern position at NVCR.
It had been such an incredible relief to see Maureen flicking into existence in front of that mountain that Dana hadn't been willing to believe it at first. Things that seemed too good to be true very often were (unlike things which seemed too terrible to be true, which were always true) and the sudden appearance of a beautiful girl with a NVCR badge pinned to her shirt was like something out of one of Dana's most cherished dreams—or would have been, if Dana could remember the last time she fell asleep. The first time Maureen had appeared, she'd shouted for help across the vast desert, and Dana had covered what looked like miles of space in only a few seconds to reach her. When Dana got to Maureen, she looked fine. Dana asked to be sure that Maureen had the same number of arms, legs, eyes, mouths, ears, fingers, and internal organs as she'd had that morning, and Maureen was pretty sure she did, so Dana focused on getting her to relax. She told Maureen who she was and where they were, or at least who she thought she was and where she was guessing they were. She held Maureen's hands tightly and assured Maureen that she was there, solid, and if they'd fallen out of existence, they'd fallen out of existence together.
It had worked, until Maureen blinked out of whatever plane of existence they were inhabiting, and Dana was left alone again. She wandered through the desert. Time was even less real in the desert than it was in Night Vale, so that was all she could say. She wandered through the desert, until she heart Maureen calling her name. Then she stopped wandering through the desert, and she and Maureen ran at each other. Maureen was so happy to see Dana that she tackled her to the sand, and then they laid there for time immeasurable, running their hands over each other's arms and legs—"Is this tattoo Japanese?" "Chinese." "What's it say?" "It's my grandmother's name. Can I touch your hair?" "Only if I can touch yours!"—and Dana would ruffle Maureen's short, silky dark hair while Maureen caressed Dana's curls. They existed. Or they didn't exist together. It didn't matter. They were together.
Briefly.
It was always brief. Maureen would flick out of their shared existence as quickly as she would flick into it, and though sometimes it seemed like they were able to accomplish much together, other times she'd flick out of existence before Dana could run to her. In this timeless desert, they could accomplish days worth of tasks and tell each other their entire life stories in a few seconds, or they could need an eternity to take a step toward each other. Sometimes when Dana was alone, or with the Man in the Tan Jacket, she thought she heard Maureen call her name, but she'd turn and she wouldn't see anything. She never knew if she was imagining the voice or if Maureen was flicking out of existence before she could turn around.
They loved each other. They didn't have to. They were alone together often and going through very similar things, and that made it easy to love each other, but Dana believe that they would have loved each other anyway, if they'd met under better circumstances. Dana missed Maureen whenever Maureen was out of existence. When Maureen was there, Dana clung to her, as if she could hold on so tightly that Maureen wouldn't leave this time. They kissed each other like kisses could anchor Maureen to whatever plane of reality this was and keep them together, if not forever than for longer, but it never did. Sometimes Dana would be lying on the sand with Maureen in the vast, empty darkness, and she'd suddenly feel cold, and Maureen would be gone. The pile of Maureen's clothes would be gone, and Dana would be left alone and unsatisfied, with nothing but the cold and her fears to keep her company until she wandered into the nationless army again, or until Maureen blinked back into existence again. In this place where everything was so very brief and so very endless, Dana wanted Maureen to be forever, but she never was.
Then Dana saw herself. She saw herself as powerful and important and safe at home to celebrate her brother's birthday. She spoke to herself, and she learned that everything was going to be okay, and she would get out of this desert. Dana remembered the smell of oranges, and she told her older self that she didn't want to leave the desert alone. Her older, important self had smiled at her, and promised her that she wouldn't. Dana had so many questions about what exactly she was supposed to do and how she was supposed to accomplish it and what would happen once she'd done it and why she was going to be so important in just seven years, but she didn't have time to ask them.
She was sent back to the desert, but before she had time to be sad about not getting to finish her conversation with herself, she was pulled into Maureen's arms. Maureen had been in the desert and Dana hadn't been, and Maureen had been frightened, as Dana was often frightened. But it was okay now. Dana showered Maureen with kisses and promised her that it was okay, and that everything was going to be okay, and that she never had to be afraid again.