Hello people. If you've read the 2 other Charmed pieces that go with this thank you. This is essentially a sequel of a sequel but more so a little vignette of moments intertwined with my other fics. This is mostly told from Waverly and Lydia's view because they weren't in the other parts much and she's interesting-to push against being spoon fed lies to taking Abby's side and this is more of an excuse to share some of my favorite quotes. Also, this took a while to write as I got sidetracked with making an unofficial sequel to The boy, the mole, the fox and the horse into The girl, the crow, the lamb and the bear (the video is on my twitter at PlaceForAnEcho). Also listening to the audio of Jane Eyre influenced this fic. Reviews are appreciated. So here we go. Stay safe people.

The last time she had gotten together with her sister was a rainy night for dinner and a movie, a tradition she was growing to love. Lydia is precious and young and inspires them to connect more often, even as Abby broods and won't ever completely settle into her suburban house. She knows there will always be something off about her sister to people-beautiful and intimidating, gorgeous and intense. She also knows she's more approachable than her older sibling and the fact makes Abby worry for her and her niece because they both don't want to repeat any damaging and painful moments of their childhood onto Lydia who is five and remarkably innocent. It's her first day of school tomorrow and she photocopied a page from The boy, the mole, the fox and the horse to put in her lunchbox. She will do all she can to support her daughter in quiet and fierce ways, but the quiet ones are more her style, the fierce is more her aunt's, but she loves leaving the note which says, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" A boy is sitting on a tree limb with a mole by his side and under them it says "Kind" said the boy.

She finds the note aged by time and discolored in Lydia's drawer years later with Abby's letters she gives on her birthday, and she loves that her tough, strong daughter, who can be a mirror to her sister's personality in her boldness is a sentimentalist and heady by valuing words more than corporeal things. How cards are often such a waste of money and people discard them without a thought, but her daughter has moved her aunt's letters to a fireproof box and has cared more about receiving whatever her aunt has written than any present that accompanies it on her birthday. And she thinks of a movie quote because of how they're hidden, under her bed, always within reaching distance, but "beautiful things don't try to be noticed."

Waverly leaves a note on Abby's side table by a book she's currently reading because Mel has come back in her life and she knows, without her sister saying so the charmed one is throwing her off no matter how deceptive and collected she tries to seem but in shows in slight ways with Abby's increased drinking.

"I promise I'll stop whatever is hurting you…even if its you."-Faking Normal

She's surprised when weeks later Abby attempts to nonchalantly slip in Mel already asked her, she's drinking less and leaves another note next to a different book and thought her annoyingly intelligent sister was a voracious reader who once went on a tangent with her after she somehow came across Americans not being able to name one book in a late night show. "They can't be serious. They're in New York City for Pete's sake! The Unbearable Lightness of Being-a character literally says New York is beautiful by accident as its manmade and created, there's even an Alice in Wonderland Statue there-real name Charles Dodgson, The Word Exchange brilliantly references Alice in Wonderland and of course an English author makes me think of Dickens who was the only author to write to George Eliot and say I believe you to be a woman, and Poe and C.S. Lewis with his religious allusions who had a falling out with Freud and there's children's literature-Peter Pan that borrows from Wordsworth for primal sympathy that makes me think of William Blake and that opens to poetry-Dickinson, Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, and really poetic prose from Sylvia Plath, Dorothy Parker, Mary Oliver!" She rubbed her forehead, annoyed and baffled, "Saul Williams, EE Cummings, Ginsberg!"

"As fun as this is-can't you rant your stream of consciousness to Mel?" Waverly asked cutting her off and she watched her sister's eye enlarge.

"I can't have her knowing I'm this much of a lit snob," she said with a bit of anxiety as if would ruin her dark, broody, comfortable default setting.

"Abby, she probably already knows," the younger sister said through a smile that was mostly a smirk. "It's not like you're the paragon and mascot for white trash," she let her smirk fully show. "How're things with Mel?" She dared to ask and wasn't surprised, though rather annoyed her daughter's favorite person was very tight lipped about their complicated dynamic. It made her all the more content she went with a simple note left behind for Abby to discover at her leisure.

'What is the secret to love?'
'Oh. To be nice to each other.' -Dear Fang, With Love.

A week later Abby half snarls at her, "you're not helping." It nearly sounds petulant, like she can't fully comprehend why Waverly's being so giving and nice to her when she hasn't done anything to warrant it. The younger sister only tilts her head to the side and takes in her rough around the edge's sibling who has softened from Mel's influence on her.

"Your ramparts are a little less…solid," she says slowly as she assessed her and truthfully, she doesn't know how receptive her inflexible sister will be at hearing she's becoming softer. Abby only narrows her eyes at her. Maybe she's tired, maybe she's simply not willing to verbally argue with her because they both have mutual respect or maybe she's open to listening.

"I think its about allowing someone to alter you and you know its not an easy task, it'd be foolish to think so. You've allowed Mel to see a bit of your internal mess and sure, some of it you didn't intend to show her, it's spilled over….mine does too, you've seen it, but we still hold onto this belief and…hope the person seeing it doesn't view us as weak, right?" Waverly said with difficulty as she also tried to connect with her sister more, to relate by sharing some of her own feelings. It's a lot and they don't usually talk like this, but she waits because it's not a simple conversation.

"Right," Abigael replies firmly, no use in denying the irrefutable truths between them and receptive to the raw honesty given by her younger sister who keeps giving her notes for years to come.

Lydia is a teenager now and falling in love in spurts of trepidation and blindfolded, diving into a deep end of a pool. She keeps slipping her notes into her absurdly expensive shoulder bag her aunt bought for her but deemed practical by Abby because 'it'll last for years, and Maggie had a vision she was carrying her soon to be published first novel in it.' Somehow that seemed solid and brought the discussion to an abrupt end. She doesn't care if her daughter is successful as much as happy and fulfilled in her life. So, she keeps giving notes.

"Let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry...have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere - be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost."-A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

The notes don't sit in the drawer anymore, she's seventeen and Lydia posts them on the large wall of her bedroom on a cork board she painted grey. When she finds the notes, she comes home from school and gives longer hugs, contently holds her mother, doesn't bother signing and lets the embrace speak for itself.

When she was in the hospital recovering from the concussion and she was too tired to talk and learning sign language seemed slightly daunting with a killer headache she wrote on the back of the stream of paper that showed her heartbeat. Though she was surprised they used an old-fashioned machine the doctor around her age who seemed to have an old, albeit human soul, swore by it and she thought it seemed too fitting as she wrote on it "She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except standing there, leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together."-JD Salinger

Because it was too fresh, her daughter gave up her hearing for her, to protect her when she was the one who was supposed to do the protecting and it was the only way she could say you're my world, our world as she squeezed her sister's and daughter's hands. And she was the reason she still had a heartbeat.

When Lydia slowly signs the reason why she couldn't help but admit to falling in love and caring for a girl in her class Waverly is aware the world still isn't as inclusive as it could be. Her beautiful daughter will have her difficulties, she's seen it in how people assume she's mute and dumb, assumes she's straight, how boys have gotten angry and nearly aggressive when she moves closer to Dagny to prove a point, a girl who is beautiful and contrasts her daughter's pale skin with a bright smile and kindness in her deep, grey eyes that always follow her daughter's presence, assumes so much about a girl who hopefully will always learn new things about herself, always grow.

And she wants to somehow prepare Lydia for the prejudices they'll face, though she's very well-aware Dagny is more versed in being treated differently from her skin alone, and Waverly has had to take very long, calming breaths to stop herself from holding out her hand and crushing air as she envisions the person's windpipe closing who felt empowered to spew hatred at them. She can do it; she has the ability, but she has a feeling Dagny doesn't know Lydia comes from a witch family. More importantly they're in a public place, so she can't exactly react as her sister would and put this waste of a human in his place. Instead, she's thankful, in a bittersweet way Lydia can't hear the man's tone, though she can read lips, so she turns her away, a hand on her back and Dagny's and leads them to the box office of the movie theater to pay for their tickets. Dagny has always paid on their dates, and she's told her daughter though its charming and chivalrous to have a beautiful girl who looks like Zoe Kravitz, without the tattoos hold the door for you and pay for everything its bloody antiquated, even your aunt and Mel pay for everything equally.

Her wonderful brat of a daughter smirked and replied fluidly but Aunt Abby always holds the door open for Mel. She catches Dagny's smirk because the teenager is proficient in signing now and reads Lydia's facial expressions, her hands, all parts of her well.

Don't enable her she signs to the taller girl and fake glares at her. Thorns in my side-the lot of you. She smiles and leaves them gracefully, being a third wheel is not her idea of a good time but she's content to head to the bookstore.

Unfortunately, she nearly collides with the man around a secluded corner a few minutes later-the one who felt entitled to be a sexist, homophobic ass and it registers who he is. The frown forms before she's aware of it and he stops walking, halts in confusion as she does bring her hand up and clenches her hand into a fist. She imagines his small, flawed, heart full of hate and tightens her fist. He stares at her in shock as what feels like a heart attack settles into his body. His face turns red, then white. Slowly. Finally, Waverly unclenches her hand and whispers, "you would do well to keep your mouth shut or there are people in this world who will permanently shut it for you." She's had enough invective bullshit spouted at her in her life and Abby's that she can't stomach it anymore. Then she leaves, head held high without regrets because she will never feel inadequate when it involves protecting her child, but she leaves a note on her bed for when she comes home.

"No label, no slogan, no party, no skin color, and no religion is more important than the human being."-James Baldwin.

Months later she finally realizes the piece or paper isn't on the board in her room. She asks, mostly out of curiosity if she didn't like it and hoping her daughter understood what she was trying to say-how proud she was of her to fall in love with and still be falling in love with a human being some of the world considers wrong.

I loved it, but I gave it to Dagny. She related to it more. She says with a small smile that's only produced when her daughter talks about the other girl. And she imagines Dagny would appreciate it more given the source, but she's also proud of her only child daughter who is willing to share her things, though they seem small, are in fact incredibly important to her. She smiles back at her daughter for those reasons.

She's considering getting it tattooed. The mother's eyes widen.

I'm going to call her little Zoe Kravitz, I swear. Lydia laughs, very amused.

You're so square. She signs playfully, exaggerating a square with a very terse hand movement.

Compared to your aunt I'm always going to seem square. She rolls her eyes, though they both know they love Abigael. Lydia once described it as desperately. Like a grey and burning feeling, like falling, that's the sensation I get when I think of you and Aunt Abby.

Well, she's got like eight tattoos. But you're pretty badass in your own way mum. Lydia comes over and hugs her because it's impossible not to adore her mother who quietly does the kindest things for her with gentle reminders, snippets of optimism and flashes of hope she's offered to influences her days and choices.

She's a very self-aware teen, most of her friends have lives that seem like Euphoria was based on them and she's damned lucky she has extremely powerful witches on her side if she needs them. Her mum is watching her out of the corner of her eye as she makes dinner as she and Dags hang out in the living room or more accurately as Dagny looks over the large bookshelf, takes one and tosses it on the couch to get into later.

Lydia dramatically gasps in an over-the-top way and draws the taller girl's attention. You must be nice to the books! A rare flash of American humor more than her English, cheeky style.

Always. Dagny signs back with a smirk. Joy in her eyes and she keeps staring at Lydia shamelessly who has gently taken a seat on the couch and quickly reads the title of the book she tossed over-The Diving bell & The Butterfly. She gives the briefest of smiles as if giving her approval then slowly signs, hands moving beautifully in the air.

If you were a book, I'd read you again and again. Until I've memorized you. And even then, I would read you just to feel the pages turn.

Dagny imagines it would be hard to keep staying angry at the world with Lydia simply existing near her. She thinks of a line from a Mary Oliver poem: Doubt is a heavy thing. And probably everything is possible.

It worries her sometimes-how she doesn't doubt Lydia loves her and that she loves her as well. She can see them in their thirties with kids and still in love. The intensity she feels for her could be alarming and overwhelming, but she doesn't think it's simply teenage hormones and idealistic thinking but knows this heady girl has a mollifying effect on her cynical perspectives.

They don't know Waverly is watching and has absorbed what her daughter has said to her girlfriend who stands like she's in a disbelieving trance. Slowly she comes to, closes the distance between them and kisses her on the cheek. It's magical and the type of interaction that inspires literature to manifest and transition into a movie once someone reads it and says this needs to be shown! But she admires her daughter's honesty, her willingness to not shy away from strong emotions and Dagny who reflects them. It's wonderful how they create their own little world and form their own allegiance to one another, whether they realize they're doing so or not its what Waverly can see. Its even more apparent when Abby and Mel come in with a bottle of wine and some fancy dish to contribute to their monthly dinners.

Dagny takes a step away from Lydia as Abby sets the large bowl on the table. The oldest Jameson gives the most subtle smirk and its not lost to any of the women Dagny is a little scared of Abigael. For that reason alone, the family has discussed waiting to tell Dagny she's half demon.

She observes the aunt hugging her sister, its as if the act releases all the residual despair Abby holds inside her, then she pulls back to make room for Mel to give Waverly an embrace and Dagny thinks Lydia is equal parts her aunt, her mother, and uniquely herself. The thought makes Dagny bend towards Lydia after everyone is done treating her like she's the sun. Her nose grazes the side of her neck to breathe her in. She feels Lydia hold her there, hand pressed against her lower back and gives the softest kiss under the curve of her jaw and finally, begrudgingly pulls away from her universe.

I'll set the table. She signs because she wants something to do instead of observing her girlfriend's family although she's content to do so. She's learned they're calm, yet passionate, each exudes power in a way Dagny hasn't been able to pinpoint exactly how. But she's distracted in her ruminations as Mel wraps an arm around her back, pulls her inward and squeezes her shoulder.

"Hey, missed you at the house last time you were over," the older woman gives a small smile and Dagny returns it easily. Where Abigael could come off cold Mel was her foil giving warmth and although they weren't married-Dagny's asked Lydia who refers to them as her aunts she looks forward to their time together when they catch up and share a meal. She remembers the art curator saying to her girlfriend I don't care that your girlfriend looks like a model. I care that she treats you well. She said solidly and signed it right in front of her-direct as ever. She held her gaze to Lydia at that who checked in with her and rolled her eyes then signed to her my brazen aunt everyone! As if she was introducing the English woman to a room full of people to alleviate any building tension.

Mel had rolled her eyes and took Dagny's wrist gently to make her sit on the couch for a more private conversation "Come here kid," she said gently as they had no doubt Lydia was adamantly defending Dagny's character. For a second the taller girl gave a brief smile as she realized Mel had a tendency to call her kid endearingly on numerous occasions…even though she was shorter.

"I know a thing or two about being with someone who looks like a model," she said to the teenager. "Believe me. It's about the actions and sticking to agreed expectations and promises." She paused and placed her hands in her lap, sat comfortably, fingers entwined and tried to give some gentle wisdom.

"For example: I expect her to be honest even if lying would be easy. It comes with mutual respect, also self-respect. I actually doubt you'd lie to Lydia, and I think you know Abby is being protective because she doesn't know how not to be so thanks for taking it with a grain of salt." She stated sincerely and unapologetically for Abby's behavior since it was her own.

Before they had left the youngest witch walked out the door first and Dagny had said, "There goes Lydia-so goes my nation," with a tiny, lopsided smile.

"Fancy yourself a Buffy fan?" Abigael smirked, voice velvety and Dagny was surprised she caught the reference. She nodded slowly and refrained from saying Oz was relatable because well…she assumed the aunt wouldn't believe her if she told her.

"Yeah." She frowned as Abigael looked at her in a very different way like she was seeing her secrets. "See you next month or sooner," she replied with forced ease as she gently closed the door.

Abigael had warmed up since then and would intentionally seek out her niece's girlfriend for small, genuine conversations.

"Planning on reading this?" She asked as she picked up the book from the couch and held it out to her. Dagny only nodded, now used to less talking after signing with Lydia as often as she does and naturally being a rather introverted person. "I thoroughly enjoyed it." The aunt stated and added purposefully-lending earnest olive branches again and again, "let me know what you think after," and it doesn't feel like homework but Abigael wanting to genuine know her thoughts and review.

"Okay. Oh, do you think Lydia and I could come to the gallery before the next instillation is set up? She really liked it and I think she keeps forgetting to ask," she adds knowing her very smart girlfriend can also be a little aloof and wants to do a million things.

"Of course. Did you not like it?" The brunette asks without any edge and more curiosity in her tone than anything biting.

"I did, but I liked the Synesthesia exhibit more. Using different senses instead of the dominant, obvious one. Like the video of the raging fire without sound and then it went to a black screen with sound and the crackling and pops of the wood…and I could almost smell the fire…" she blushed lightly, feeling exceptionally nerdy admitting her imagination ran wild and was being open about it.

"Well if you like fire you'll fit right in with this family," Abigael said easily and she didn't sign it to include Lydia though she glanced over at her niece and gave a small smile. Dagny watched it all and didn't really know what the aunt meant by it, but she pocketed the statement away for another day as Waverly stated dinner was ready.

When Lydia and Dagny were watching a movie in the living room after the aunts left. They had finished their homework and the taller girl had already found the note Waverly slipped into her backpack.

"Darling, you can be whatever you want to be, as long as you're outrageous."-Phoebe Waller Bridge in her acceptance speech for Fleabag.

She smiled and wondered if Waverly had put it in because it was their senior year, and she was trying to narrow down what she might want to focus on in college or forgo applications and university altogether-if she could afford that much independence. Her parents wouldn't be thrilled, she was positioned to be valedictorian or salutatorian and she didn't care about either. She wanted to travel and learn and grow and with a camera in her hand she was likely to take more pictures of Lydia than focus on the scenery… have less anxiety, less uncertainties and be with Lydia as long as time allowed it. She read the note again, in an attempt to settle herself then slipped it back into her bag. Lydia saw the movement and smiled at her gorgeous girlfriend who never used her looks as a tool to get ahead as she thought sneaky mum.

Naturally Waverly watched an English show and had good taste. Dagny knew she and Abigael had varying preferences, but they were both snobby about it as if they were playing up the idea of English arrogance to fit the cliché and blend in when they stood out in suburbia in many ways.

Dagny turned towards Lydia during a still moment in the intense film Never Let Me Go and stated your aunt rarely says the word love. Ever notice?

Lydia picked up the remote and paused the movie Dagny brought over. It was one of her favorites with its existential dilemmas, but she wanted to read and had already fallen in love with a segment in the book Abigael wanted her opinion on.

'I long to escape, but every time the chance arises, a leaden torpor prevents me from even a single step. I am petrified, mummified, vitrified. If just one door stands between me and freedom, I am incapable of opening it. Yet that is not my only terror. For I am also hostage of a mysterious cult, and I fear that my friends will fall into the same trap. I try desperately to warn them, but my dream conforms perfectly with reality. I am unable to utter a word.'

Though the author had locked in syndrome she believed she understood and related too well at the body betraying a person. She hates her body some days, feeling how it's out of her control, even though Lydia has signed how often she loves all aspects of her. She's told Lydia things she loves instead and once divulges she hates full moons after they've shared a bottle of wine from Waverly's cabinet, but she quickly added she loves stars and thought they were secretly loud and blazing even if nights were often silent. She remembers how her mind felt conflicted-like it didn't know if it wanted to explode or implode but she quoted Virginia Woolf as they looked up up up at the great, wide sky, voice rough even though Lydia couldn't hear her as she signed there was a star riding through the clouds one night, and I said to the star, consume me.

But her mind is sharp, but full of thoughts as she flips the book spine up to not lose her place and to make a mark about the passage later, then sets it on the table as Lydia shifts to give her full attention.

There's a feeling of significance the conversation isn't going to be light as she feels Dagny hold back some of herself, a bit weary, eyes serious and holding a war in their darkened grey irises.

Yeah, she said people throw around the word love too often that it diminishes is meaning and is disingenuous.

"Mmm" she hums and nods her head then signs slowly because the words are difficult to translate into her hands. Semantic satiation. It feels clumsy but she's rewarded with one of Lydia's bright, open smiles as she quickly replies so smart with a slight narrowing of her eyes that makes her think her girlfriend fell in love with her mind before anything else.

Abigael isn't prone to carelessness is she? She had an inkling to the answer given how the woman spoke with precision and practiced refinement that was often only dropped around Mel.

No, she's not. Lydia signed with a frown. Why do you call her Abigael?

She calls me Dagny. The taller girl said with a shrug. She gathered it wasn't Lydia's aunt's intention to be formal but rather have a way of respecting her through a subtle display. Waverly called her Agony when she and Lydia playfully ganged up on the woman and she adored it, how teasing was how they showed affection.

And Lydia tilted her head in the same adorable way her mother did as she considered words are intentions and constructs to how people connect or reject the degree of value they place on things. It made the witch think of an excerpt from the book Infinite Home she borrowed from her aunt who had underlined in pencil the part: When asked why she was sad she wrote because we value things we can touch less and less every day.

If the brain is a discounting mechanism as the opening to the movie Where'd You Go Bernadette stated then, she considered the opposite could be said about how telling it is in what words someone repetitiously uses and becomes part of their vernacular, everyday vocabulary and ingrained. And on the other end of the spectrum-what words people banish from their minds with sheer will and purpose into exile.

Dagny touched her knee, her hand gave the joint a small pulsation and lingered as Lydia seemed more side-tracked than normal. Where did you just go? She signed.

The English girl wanted to share her thoughts, she had given and shown so much to Dagny. Dags-who learned signing for the sake of asking how are you and she continued to ask that question in variation every time they were together because she wanted to know her.

People use certain words consistently and I think it says a lot about their personality. She signed, trying to summarize her thoughts into a concise and compact concept.

Mum says lovely a lot and its always sincere and soft in her eyes and hands when she signs it. Abby says certainly but always says it sarcastically even though it's a black and white word, but she makes it grey. And you say suppose a lot which isn't a solid word, it's far from the edge of absolute…

She paused. And I think it's because we're young and you don't really know who you are yet and that's okay. Like really okay. I just hope we still love each other no matter who and what we become.

She took Dagny's hand as the girl sat baffled and awed Lydia would say such sentiments when their peers never spoke like that. But Dagny had watched how Waverly, Abigael and Lydia all talk to one another. Like reincarnations of the Bronte sisters and poets in the twenty first century. Lydia took her hand and held it in hers so she could sign fluidly with one hand individual letters l o v e sliding back and forth in the space-like an invisible thread was gently tethered between them.

The End

Notes:

Beautiful things quote-The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Invisible thread is a refence to Taylor Swift's invisible string. I also hinted Dagny is a werewolf-fun concept and a nice twist. Also quotes I thought of putting in:

"If you want to be happy-Be."-Tolstoy

"Far too many people are looking for the right person, instead of trying to be the right person."-Gloria Steinem

"We all get emotional, we all cry by ourselves and have moments of not really knowing what to do with our lives."-Kristen Wiig