can you write about the night after Misty is save from the coffin.? Like after the fight, and axeman slaughter and all that, so lots of fluff.

Read under the assumption that Cordelia has two-toned fully functioning eyes, and that her vision of Misty in the coffin came out of love, not self-mutilation.

"Welcome home, Mist," Cordelia whispered; brushing silky, blonde curls back from the girl's face. Tears glistened in her eyes, and they both giggled a little as they stared into each other's eyes—astonished.

"I was so afraid we wouldn't find you." The headmistress' voice cracked, and she cupped Misty's face with both hands. "I would have died if I hadn't found you."

"I love ya' so much, Dee," the girl stated simply, lips quivering with emotion.

"I love you too. God, do I love you." The kiss was messy. Tears mingled, lips quivered, sobs exchanged and swallowed.

-I love you-'s were whispered across moist lips as arms tightened; and the pair fell back slowly against the pillows.

"I can't believe you're really here," Cordelia whimpered, breaking the kiss to bury her head in Misty's soft curls. She inhaled the girl's scent deeply—sucked it down, breathed it in and quite literally existed upon it for a fleeting moment—reacquainting with the earthy, musky fragrance she had missed so terribly. "I dreamt about you every night. I dreamt about us—that night in the greenhouse; the way you practically glow, dancing in the moonlight; your eyes fluttering in your sleep." A shallow sob broke through, and she whimpered, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Dee. I thought about you every second. Thinking about you kept me sane. I would fall asleep imagining you were in my arms, like this, all curled up into me like this. But when I woke up..." She took a deep, shaky breath, "you weren't there...and it made me wanna die."

"Don't tell me that," Cordelia pleaded, pulling back to look into her lover's eyes. She stroked Misty's cheek with a tender, pitiful sort of touch, "It kills me to think about you like that." She leaned in close to whisper firmly against her lips, "It kills me."

"Then let's stop talkin' 'bout it. I'm here now. I'm home—with you."

"Yes. Home. With me...and you're just as beautiful as I remembered." The blonde curls framing her face were still damp from the bath they had shared earlier; her eyes, red rimmed from sheer exhaustion; and her lips...thin and pale from dehydration. But Cordelia was determined to change that—determined to kiss the life back into not only her shriveled lips, but every inch of her body.

Beginning with the smooth skin of her forehead, she did. Cordelia laved every inch of Misty in wet, loving kisses. Trying desperately to erase the gloom that death had painted on her perfect skin. She made love to her slowly, reverently, gently...wanting only to fill her with some sort of pleasure—some small joy.

The girl sighed and moaned deep into the night, and when her body was fully exhausted in every way, she pulled Cordelia up against her. They slept through the night this way, with Cordelia weighing down heavily on Misty. It was a much satisfying suffocation than the one she had experienced days before. This, if anything, would be a pleasurable way to die.

When Cordelia woke in the morning, still curled into Misty's warmth, she ran the back of a finger over a smooth cheek—appreciating the light glow beneath that was slowly returning.

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