When Vesper made the suggestion that Leah should display her art to the town, her first reaction was one of overwhelming anxiety. She couldn't possibly do that, she'd thought. She'd shown off her art a little bit when she first arrived, just to test the waters; see if this was a viable place to make a living with her trade, and found that the answer was a resounding no. People didn't get her art. If she was being honest with herself, people probably didn't even care enough to try. They simply shrugged it off as a hobby and told her to get a real job, like Kel had—not in as many words, here in Stardew Valley, but she knew a dismissal when she heard one.

So when Vesper finally tore her eyes off of Leah's latest sculpture in progress (the one whose working title she was absolutely not going to reveal) and turned them to Leah with a sparkle of inspiration behind the gold irises, declaring, "You could make a fortune off these," the artist was a mite surprised. And scared.

She tried to laugh it off through a tightening throat. "I appreciate your faith in me, but I've already tried that," she gently brushed the farmer off.

Vesper wasn't discouraged. "You could have a show," she suggested excitedly. "I know Elliott would kill to have that beside his writing desk—" She pointed to an abstract composition called Muse. Then a painting on the mantel. "—and that one has Marnie in the background, so naturally Lewis will want it."

Leah's rising panic gave way to a laugh. "You really think so? When I got here, people seemed to treat me like I was living a fantasy, thinking I could sell my art," she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself insecurely. She still doubted their interest. But if Vesper was so sure about it…

"They'll see," the farmer assured her firmly. "I'll help them. You deserve to be recognized for something this beautiful."

At that, Leah melted a little inside. How could she ever say no to Vesper after a heartfelt comment like that?

One thing led to another, and Leah held her show in the town square. As Vesper had promised, people reacted well. They loved it, in fact. Leah made more money in that single afternoon than she had in the whole year previous, and people started looking at her in a new light. Like they took her seriously.

And she had her dear farmer to thank.

Vesper gave her the perfect chance to do just that when she came knocking on Leah's cabin door late that night, hands clasped behind her back as the artist cracked the door open to admit her.

"Hi there, Vesper," Leah greeted with a wide grin and a teasing tone. She closed the door behind the farmer so they stood in warmth and firelight together. That seemed a little more special; more personal tonight, for some reason. "What's the occasion?"

The farmer cracked her crooked smile and brought her hands into view along with the bottle of homemade wine she'd been hiding between them. "Oh, I don't know. Just the recent incredible success of my favorite person, maybe," she returned. Then without giving Leah a chance to react to that little tidbit, she looked down at the wine. "I made this to celebrate. It might be awful, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Leah giggled and pulled her toward the kitchen where she could retrieve her corkscrew and a pair of glasses, then retreated to the couch. Vesper sat beside her and they cracked open the bottle and any lingering anxiety Leah might have felt from earlier was dashed entirely. From that point on, the night felt a little warmer and a little brighter. Leah figured that even without the fire, the warmth of Vesper's smile as they talked and joked and shared this little victory together could have sustained her.

It didn't take long for the bottle to dwindle down to the dregs after several rounds of passing between them. Or maybe it did take long; Leah had had enough over the course of the night that she wasn't really sure anymore.

"This really is awful," she snorted over the rim of her fifth glass of wine, then proceeded to down the contents anyway.

Vesper, who was bearing half of Leah's weight as the artist leaned comfortably against her shoulder, laughed as well. "It was supposed to be peach," she admitted bashfully.

Leah giggled, as had become more and more common as her blood alcohol level rose. "Sorry, Vesper, but you missed the mark. This tastes like…" She took another hearty sip, from Vesper's glass this time since hers was empty. "…dry erase markers."

"That doesn't seem to be bothering you," the farmer pointed out, holding her glass out of reach so perhaps Leah might slow down a bit.

The artist gave a scoff and did her darnedest to pursue it anyway. Incidentally, this involved her reaching bodily across the other woman so her front was pressed snugly to Vesper's side. That might have made her feel flustered under other circumstances, but right now she felt nothing but pleasant. It probably had something to do with all the wine. Why shouldn't she have a little more, then? "Of course it doesn't bother me," she grumbled, tugging at Vesper's arm so she might give in, but the farmer didn't budge. Her brain trailed a step behind her mouth and she heard herself say, "You made it. I love everything you make."

Vesper took her turn to go very still. She turned her head to face Leah in something like surprise, and the motion brought their noses within inches of one another. It probably would have been appropriate for Leah to pull away at that point, but she didn't want to. She liked being pressed up against the farmer like this, their shared warmth a better shield against the crisp air than any blanket, her amber eyes so close and so bright and so beautiful. Her lips…

Her lips said then, "Likewise. If that wasn't obvious by now." Her voice was hushed and a little raspy, and Leah found that she couldn't quite raise her eyes; couldn't stop imagining leaning forward the barest inch and—and—

"Vesper," she croaked through a throat suddenly dry as well, lowering her chin to the farmer's shoulder to study every curve and crack in her lips from hardly an inch away. "I…" The words felt too strange; too thick in her mouth, like she was speaking around a ball of cotton. Or a whole lot of alcohol. That didn't stop her from confessing in the smallest whisper, "I want to kiss you."

If Vesper was shocked, she didn't let it show. She just took a long, deep breath that made Leah shift against her side and placed the remnants of her wine on the coffee table nearby. Her newly freed hand then came up to run over Leah's arm; her shoulder; her back, rubbing soothingly. The action began to lull Leah toward a doze where she almost forgot she'd spoken at all, and a brief flash of insight made her realize that maybe that was the goal. Maybe she'd gone too far and the farmer was trying to distract her. She couldn't focus well enough to feel anxious about that as Vesper opened her mouth to speak. "You're drunk," she reminded in a heavy, hard-to-read tone. "You'd regret it tomorrow."

Leah shook her head absently. "No way," she murmured, leaning in close enough that the farmer could surely smell the wine on her breath—almost enough to close the distance, but not quite. "I want to kiss you when I'm sober, too," she breathed, and she could feel the hitch that stuttered in Vesper's chest. All that she could feel at this point was Vesper: her body, the heat of her gaze, the uncertainty of her protest. Leah wanted her, and she was convinced Vesper wanted her back. She wouldn't have let this happen otherwise, right? She could push Leah away at any time.

The artist dragged her gaze up to meet Vesper's just long enough to blink at her through heavy lids and confirm the shadow of desire that lay behind those golden frames. That was all the convincing her addled brain needed, and before she knew what she was doing she leaned in, bracing one hand against the armrest on Vesper's other side so she could press herself closer and—

She saw as if in slow motion the way Vesper's lips parted in anticipation as she neared. Heat flooded her nerves, and her heart felt like it had ceased beating entirely, suspended in time along with the rest of the world as finally, finally—

Vesper turned and let Leah's drunken kiss fall on her cheek.

The artist froze, waited, and when the farmer didn't change her mind, slouched against her shoulder with a heavy sigh, from weariness or disappointment even she couldn't be sure.

It was a long moment before either of them broke the silence, and when Vesper finally did, the words came out hoarse: "I won't believe that till I hear it from sober Leah."

Leah had no answer except a groan. She was beyond feeling much more than a dull ache in the wake of her mistake. In fact, the only thing she was feeling right now was tired. She would deal with the consequences in the morning. That was fine, right? Vesper would still be nearby, right?

Maybe later she would sorely regret what she'd done—or thank Yoba for it.

Tonight, all that was left to do was slip into a troubled doze, her shoulder pressed to the farmer whose acceptance she valued more intensely than any number of sculptures sold.

…

Leah could not remember that night for the life of her.

But she had been drunk around other people before, and things had subsequently gotten out of hand before. It wasn't unreasonable to believe that she'd made a fool of herself. Fearing the worst, Leah proceeded with caution; letting the farmer take the lead to schedule their next meetings, if that was something she even wanted to do anymore, but they seemed fewer and farther between these days. The farmer used to come by virtually every afternoon with a gift or a story or just the blessing of her company. Now, though, every time Leah heard a knock on her door and instantly dropped whatever she was doing to go peer through the peephole, hoping it was Vesper, she was inevitably disappointed.

Leah couldn't get it out of her head that she'd done or said something awful. Why else would Vesper be avoiding her like this? She presumed it would take a lot to drive away somebody as kind and patient as this particular farmer. So what had she done?

And what was she supposed to do about it? Certainly her current cycle of 'drink, struggle to produce any art, sleep, repeat,' was not the answer, but she was feeling far from her best. It positively ate away at her to think that she might have botched the single greatest thing to ever happen to her. Would going to see Vesper help? Would the farmer forgive her for whatever had happened? Was it too late already?

One painful afternoon, about a week from the art show, Leah groaned and let her head fall to her desk, the same tumultuous thoughts roiling in her mind that had been nagging at her for days. The beginnings of an oil painting lay on the easel before her, but it refused to come out the way she wanted. The colors all seemed too dim; too dirty. Fitting, she supposed.

Her misery seemed to be reflected back at her in the steady drum of a light rain upon the roof (and the rhythmic drip of the leak in the corner). It had rained almost every day in the last week, and normally Leah appreciated a good drizzle to wash everything clean, but this just seemed excessive. Like Yoba himself was punishing her for being such an idiot.

"I deserve it," she mumbled into the surface of her desk, her voice bouncing back thick and ugly in her ears. She was thirsty, but even wine had lost some of its appeal to her, all things considered. She just couldn't scrape together the willpower to do anything about it.

It was then that a knock sounded at the door.

Leah was on her feet and lunging across the room before she knew what was happening. She winced at a shot of pain that raced through her hip, stiff from sitting. "Coming!" she called out, just in case it was Vesper and she might walk away at any moment and Leah might miss her last and only chance to—

She threw the door open.

Maru looked startled at her dramatic appearance. Or maybe that was just her thick spectacles making her eyes look a little bigger than usual, but in any case, Leah tried not to physically slouch in disappointment at the sight of her and not her favorite farmer.

"Maru?" she asked, voice crackling a little. "Did you need something?"

Maru ran her hand over her hair, trying to fight the frizz that the rain had inflicted upon it. She looked uncomfortable. "Um…hi, Leah," she responded tentatively. "Yeah. Actually, no, but—I mean, I don't need anything, but, um…" She twisted at the strap of her overalls and winced. "Leah, it's Vesper. Harvey thought you should know—"

"Harvey?" repeated Leah, heart dropping straight to her toes. She gripped the doorframe, hard. "She's at the clinic? Why? What happened?"

"She's hurt. One of Sandy's people found her in the Skull Cavern."

Leah could feel all the blood drain from her face. "Oh, Yoba," she rasped, thinking I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid. Vesper is hurt and I didn't even consider— "O-okay, I'll be right there. Thank you," she managed, then raised shaking palms to her forehead and squeezed. She didn't really want to have a meltdown in front of Maru, but she figured it would be rude to slam the door on the other girl. It was too much; it was all too much. Vesper is hurt, she kept thinking frantically, guilt and worry washing over her in equal measures. Vesper is hurt and I wasn't there to help. This had to be her fault, somehow. "Oh, Yoba, I'm such an idiot."

"Hey." Maru's voice cut into the sick spiral of Leah's thoughts, snapping her back into clarity. She always did have a better bedside manner than Harvey. Expression soothing, she stepped close enough to lay a steadying hand on Leah's arm. "Breathe. She's going to be okay."

Leah forced herself to pull in a deep breath and sigh it out again. It maybe made her hands tremble a little less. "Right. Yeah. I know, I just—" She paused, breathed, sighed again and shook her head. "I kept telling her that place is dangerous."

"This isn't your fault," Maru said, as if somehow she'd seen straight into Leah's soul and determined her deepest fears. "Vesper takes a lot of risks. It comes with the job sometimes."

Leah gave a weak grunt of acknowledgement. "I wish she wouldn't."

"I know." Maru's hand on her arm squeezed gently, and the part-time nurse suggested, "Why don't you grab your coat and come see her?"

"Yeah," Leah agreed. "Yeah, I'll do that." She was feeling a little less frantic now, but no less worried. The threat of tears was pushing up in her chest to replace the panic. She wasn't convinced that this wasn't her fault. What if Vesper had gone out looking for trouble after she—after she did whatever it was that she couldn't remember? What if she'd driven her away? She would never forgive herself if Vesper were hurt because of her.

"Leah," said Maru, rousing the artist from her own thoughts again.

"Right. Right." Grabbing her coat. Going to see Vesper. Leah turned away just long enough to yank her brown corduroy jacket off the coat rack she'd carved and shove her feet into her heavy-duty boots beside it. She settled the coat around her shoulders as she rejoined Maru at the door, pulling her ginger braid out from beneath the collar. It wasn't suited for the rain, but it was the best she had. "Let's go."

Maru didn't waste a second in leading her out into the darkness and onto the path to town. The trip to the clinic passed in a blur of cold rain, squelching footsteps, darkness, and concern. Maru stayed close by her side as they walked, monitoring her as if to make sure the clinic didn't end up with another patient tonight. Leah wanted to tell her she was fine, but it wouldn't have been the truth, exactly.

The sight of the clinic rising up at the end of the dirt path was both relieving and anxiety-inducing. Vesper was just inside. What would Leah say to her? Would she even get the chance? How hurt exactly was her precious farmer? She trusted Harvey, but she'd heard horrific things about the Skull Cavern. She quickened her pace a little.

She reached the door before Maru did and let herself in. Her boots slipped a little on the tiles as she stepped in from the rain, but she didn't waste any time in beelining for the door to the exam room. She barely hesitated before bursting through that one, too.

Harvey was standing beside the bed closest the door, a clipboard in his hands. A dark shape was reclined on the mattress; denim spattered with mud and something red. Leah's eyes stuck on that detail and her heart rate spiked all over again.

"Vesper!" she cried without thinking, rushing to the bedside. Harvey gave her space to approach. Up closer, she could see the extent of the damage to Vesper's outfit: tears, scrapes, and slashes to accompany the stains, and beneath—"Oh, Yoba." Leah reached a shaking hand toward the place Vesper's gray shirt lay open, revealing several nasty rows of puncture wounds in her abdomen that looked like…bite marks?

The second Leah's cold fingers met Vesper's skin, the farmer gasped awake. "My sword!" she cried, voice ragged and eyes wide and uncertain as they cut around the room, trying to determine where she was. "Where's my sword?" Before anyone could protest she made a motion to sit up, only to yelp in pain and sag back to the mattress, grimacing. Panting for breath, she raised a clumsy hand toward her torso to search for the source of the pain, and it was then that her fingers collided with Leah's. Her eyes flashed up to the redhead's face and after a breathless instant, they cleared. "Oh. Hey," Vesper sighed out heavily, relaxing all at once. To Leah's relief, the look the farmer gave her upon recognition was nothing out of the ordinary. Open, pleased; maybe a little sheepish, besides the pain. Nothing to suggest Vesper was upset with her. Or that her state was due to anything but an unfortunate accident.

Leah let out a soft breath. "Hey," she murmured, voice catching on the single syllable. Yoba, she was so glad Vesper was okay. Besides, you know, the red, angry bite marks all over her. She tentatively turned her hand over to catch the farmer's in her grip, running a thumb over her scraped knuckles. "Um. How are you feeling?"

Vesper didn't shy away from the touch. On the contrary, her eyes remained trained on Leah's face, heavy-lidded, like her presence was a comfort. "Like I just got kicked by a horse," she rasped, the tiniest smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

"Doesn't seem far from the truth based on those wounds," Harvey put in from his place beside Leah's shoulder. She almost jumped, having forgotten he was there. Vesper tended to have that effect on her. When both women turned to look at him sharply, he physically shrank a little, seeming to realize how out of place he was. "Oh. Right," he coughed delicately. "I'll, uh, give you two a minute. Then we can go over her results."

Leah felt a little bad for the doctor as he did his best to melt into the background, retreating to where Maru had hung back in the doorway. This was his establishment, after all. She'd been the one to make a scene. But she was more concerned about Vesper than Harvey's pride, so she turned promptly back to the farmer on the hospital bed. "So the Skull Cavern, huh?" she began, figuring saying anything was better than nothing at all.

Vesper grunted and shifted a little on the bed as if trying to wriggle out from under Leah's judgment. "I know you said it's risky, but that's the best place to find iridium and I need a lot of it so I can upgrade my equipment so I can spend less time tending the farm so I can spend more time with you instead," she explained.

Leah narrowed her eyes, even as her heart swelled. "So this is my fault." It didn't hurt so much when she said it in this context; as a definite joke instead of a terrifying possibility.

Vesper nodded, maybe a little loopy. Leah glanced over and registered the IV in her arm, and the guilt came back. I should have been here sooner. "Yeah, basically," the farmer carried on. "I think you should pay my hospital bill."

Leah did her best to smile, but she could feel how weak it came out. So instead she shifted a little closer, easing her weight down onto the edge of the mattress carefully enough that it wouldn't jostle Vesper, and dropped her attention to the wounds on her stomach. "Does it hurt?" she asked at a whisper.

In lieu of an answer, Vesper lowered their joined hands slowly to the surface of her skin, letting Leah ghost a tentative touch over the marks. A few were big enough that Harvey had stitched them up; the rest simply cleaned and doctored with some sort of ointment. He clearly hadn't gotten around to bandaging them before she'd busted in the door. Leah brushed her fingertips over the torn skin as gently as she could, only realizing that she was holding her breath when her lungs began to protest.

She could feel the heat of Vesper's gaze on her. She couldn't quite bring herself to meet it, though; not while they were this close, her hand sandwiched between Vesper's own and the expanse of her bare stomach, the air between them so thick with things left unsaid (things she wished she could understand). She didn't think she could trust herself to look into those beautiful golden irises just now. They made her feel so much.

"No more fighting monsters for a while," Vesper murmured just then, rousing her gently from her reverie. She lifted her hand away, and Leah took that as a sign to do the same. The distance between them suddenly felt huge. Leah was reminded of her worry; of the possibility that that distance might be real; might be her fault. Reminded that there was still a very big question mark hovering over their relationship at the moment.

She wouldn't let herself dwell on that right now. Right now, she was occupied with the relief of finding her farmer in stable health; in a doctor's capable hands. "Absolutely not," she agreed in the same soft tone. There was so much more she wanted to say; wanted to do. But now was not the time. Leah held back a sigh.

Harvey chose that moment to clear his throat loudly. He'd returned to the bedside, clipboard still in his grasp. Leah tried not to resent him for doing his job. The poor man had jumped to Vesper's rescue at whatever ungodly hour of the night this happened to be; he deserved a little credit. Maru, too.

"I-if you're ready, I wanted to go over Vesper's situation, and what we'll have to do to get her back on her feet as soon as possible," the doctor said, fidgeting with his glasses as he spoke but meeting neither of their gazes.

"Sure," said Vesper just as easily as ever, and the two settled in for the news: bad, good, and manageable. Leah didn't miss the way the farmer's fingers sought out hers again where they rested on the mattress.

Yoba, she was so glad Vesper was okay.

…