Hi, this is the second chapter, hope you all enjoyed the first. I'm going to nicely dedicate this one to rawpotential as a thank you for the nice review!

Telekinesis

Leafing through paperwork absent-mindedly, Myrtle tried to keep herself occupied. Though as hard as she tried, she couldn't keep her mind from drifting to the events of the previous night. Fiona had always been her secret pleasure; her secret infatuation and so to be faced with the reality of her imaginings terrified her. She was never one to act on her romantic feelings; she had to stay level-headed if she was to continue the legacy of the Coven she loved so dearly. Shame flooded her mind and she took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Fiona had used her last night and she desperately wanted to hate her for it. For as long as she could remember, she'd wanted to hate Fiona for anything, but had never been able to bring herself to do so. She had to get her revenge in some way, shape or form. Fiona would not get away with it this time. She felt humiliated and cheap (which was not something Myrtle Snow was used to feeling) and the thought of seeing her again made her blood boil, but she just couldn't allow herself to be publicly humiliated in a lengthy investigation process; which Fiona would no doubt breeze through, looking like the heroine, yet again.

Spalding quietly placed a teapot and a china cup and saucer on the table in front of her with a slight grimace and she nodded her thanks before raising her face to meet his. Placing her glasses on her nose again she smiled sweetly at the haggard man before her. She wasn't met with a smile, but with a small twist of his lips.

Spalding she thought. If she could prove that Fiona had mutilated the Watcher, then maybe she could have some sort of closure.

The Head of the Council paced wildly, pretending as though they hadn't seen each other the night before had been difficult enough without Fiona's wicked tongue and pure-evil-beauty. Then there was Spalding, Oh! Spalding! To have written her name on that piece of paper, when there was clearly no doubt that Fiona had cut off his tongue made her wild beyond anything.

What kind of control does Fiona actually have over that poor mute man?! She thought maniacally to herself, continuing to pace. Humiliation on her part had not been the plan for the day, yet here she was humiliated anyway. All her life, she had been trodden on by Fiona Goode, and this was the last straw. She would not be getting away with it again.

Fading from the Ancestor room with skill and appearing at the bedroom of The Supreme she didn't even consider knocking before she swung the door open.

"Fiona! You have humiliated me for the last time!" She screamed unabashedly.

"I know." Fiona replied, not opening her eyes. She lay in bed, barely moving.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" The red-head continued to wail, "You will admit to cutting off Spalding's tongue, and you will admit to killing Anna-Leigh AND Maddison!

Fiona's eyes remained shut as she listened to the screaming Witch in front of her. "Shut the door, will you?" Myrtle's temper was increasing and she slammed the door without touching it. "I asked you to shut it not slam it."

"Fiona!" Myrtle screamed one last time, "Will you look at me?!"

Myrtle made use of her favourite power. The jewellery box on Fiona's dresser hit the door with a clatter, quickly followed by the mirror and the brush which hit the wall on the other side of the room. The light bulb in the center of the ceiling shattered and the wardrobe fell forwards causing an awful din. The room was definitely ruined, and she was left standing amidst the mess, in silent tears.

Fiona finally opened her eyes and saw the tears that flowed freely down the pale skin of the Head of the Council in front of her bed.

"Myrtle, I'm dying." She rasped eventually.

Myrtle tilted her head. "If this is a joke, it's sick, even for you."

"I'm not joking," Fiona smiled slightly, "I have Cancer; I won't last the year."

Myrtle sat on the edge of the bed, defeated, looking at Fiona intensely. She was looking for something in Fiona's voice, words, face to show she was lying. Finding nothing, she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Fiona chuckled slightly, "You'll be dead before I am."

Myrtle stood again. This woman infuriated her beyond anything she had ever known. Taking a few steps, she spun around again lifting her finger to point at Fiona. "Why?!"

"You've lost me." Fiona shook her head in confusion.

The red-head stormed up the room so she was at a level with her head. "Why are you so cruel?"

"I'm not cruel; I'm honest." The blonde looked back at her.

Myrtle sat back down on the bed, this time nearer Fiona. "You infuriate me." She finally sighed, frustrated with herself as much as The Supreme. Fiona sat up a little and reached for her cigarettes on the bedside table. Lighting one, she offered one to Myrtle who politely declined and pulled out one of her own Cigarillos. The irony of the situation wasn't addressed.

"The Dynamics of our relationship will always be the same, Myrtle; why do you let it bother you so much?" The blonde asked finally after taking a long draw from her cigarette.

"The dynamics of our relationship could be different." Myrtle sighed in reply.

"I really don't see how anything could ever change between us, Dogface."

Myrtle scoffed in frustration again, before deciding it was time to prove a point. She knew the dynamics of their relationship could change, and she knew exactly how to do it. Holding her Cigarillo out of the way, she leaned over Fiona's still form, and placed a tentative kiss on the Supreme's lips. To her surprise, Fiona didn't pull away, it seemed as though she was even urging her further. Myrtle's lips parted slightly and Fiona allowed entry to the eager tongue. With a gloved hand, she tangled her fingers in Fiona's hair as the kiss intensified. A quiet moan from Fiona cemented her original point, and after a few more moments locked in a searing kiss, she moved back again to look at the face before her. She had spent most of her adult life imagining that moment, but none of it had prepared her for the emotions she was actually feeling. She trembled, unsure of herself.

"Don't call me Dogface." She whispered as she sat back down beside Fiona.

Fiona let out a throaty chuckle, and Myrtle laughed nervously with her.

"What was that?" The Supreme finally asked once breathing had been steadied on both parts.

"A change in the dynamics of our relationship." Myrtle replied with a bitter tone.

The blonde woman looked down at her lap and coughed. She hadn't realised how much she'd wanted Myrtle all these years. Love and hate are very similar emotions, and she had never been very good with emotions anyway.

The red-head looked at Fiona for a moment longer, before swapping her Cigarillo to the other hand and raising it to her mouth. She stopped mid air, noticing the clump of tangled blonde hair that had wrapped itself around her glove. Bringing her other hand to her chest she gasped silently, and pulled the hair from her glove discretely, aware that Fiona was the last person she'd want witnessing this.

She glanced over to the blonde beside her with love, and regret. She regretted that it had taken this long to make her feelings known, and that now she had, she clearly didn't have much time left with her. Fiona was clearly telling the truth and it devastated her. She took The Supreme's hand in her own and brought it to her lips, placing a tender kiss there.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay with you; you don't have to do this alone." Myrtle finally plucked the courage to say.

"No you won't." Fiona sighed, "Like I said, You'll be gone before I am."

Myrtle was unnerved by the sentence but didn't push it. She merely put her arm around the dying Supreme and pulled her close.

Fiona slept in her arms until the morning. When she awoke, it was before the red-head, and she took a moment to relish the feeling of Myrtle's arms around her slender frame. She managed to get up without disturbing her, deciding it would be best to leave her there a little longer. Sighing quietly at the mess of her beautiful bedroom, she side stepped her way out, taking care not to step on broken glass.

Myrtle woke half an hour later to a harsh sunlight through the drapes, and the vague recollection of kissing Fiona Goode. She rolled over, hoping (but knowing she would be disappointed) to see the blonde looking back at her. Of course, the bed was empty. Sitting up, ungracefully, she stretched her neck; couture was not comfortable sleeping attire, and glanced around the room. She couldn't see Fiona anywhere, but as she looked back down at the bed something caught her eye.

Fiona's soft white pillow was covered in something. She reached a hand down and felt a sickness in her stomach again as she came to the realisation that it was Fiona's hair. She'd only just put the first tentative feelers out on a potential relationship with the supreme, but now it was very clear that she was dying. Myrtle let out a small sob as she picked the hairs from the pillow.