Part I
Cordelia stood over the stove, absentmindedly watching steam billow out from the teapot in front of her, her exhausted mind still managing to race in spite of itself. She had become familiar with this activity over the last five years: waking up from a vivid dream that a normal day turns into a joyous one after stumbling upon her old friend who has come back from perdition. Sometimes she dreamt it was Madison who returned, other times it was Nan or Myrtle, but most of the time she saw Misty. Her wonderstruck eyes, bright and blue as the morning, filled Cordelia with unrestrained joy before she woke up to realize none of it was true. Then she'd be forced to lay in bed with the crushing memory of feeling Misty's limp body slip through her arms into ash until it was as if she never existed at all.
Misty didn't want to be the Supreme. She didn't want to participate in The Seven Wonders. Misty had just wanted to use her third chance at life to live peacefully, helping the innocent, waiting to find her tribe. I promised her, Cordelia thought degradingly, that we'd be her tribe and keep her safe. She had insisted that no one really had a choice in whether or not they were the Supreme. But doing The Seven Wonders should have been a choice. She had thrown Misty right back into the fire.
Tears began to bite at Cordelia's eyes as the steam grew thicker and the kettle began to scream relentlessly, but the sound was drowned out by a memory: Misty's cries as Mr. Kingery forced her hand to take the life of a small frog. The moment she had taken Misty into her arms, Cordelia was surrounded by soulless fluorescent lighting and the smell of formaldehyde. She had felt the discomfort creeping up the back of her neck as she watched the frog on the tray in front of her flail back to life. A lump of nausea rolled in Cordelia's throat as the translucent skin gave way to a spurt of blood and she felt Misty begin to shake in self-disgust and horror. Every muscle in Cordelia's body pleaded with her to reach forward and pull Misty into her arms, her physical being having no respect for the fact that she wasn't really there. She could not reach Misty. She had tried a thousand times.
Despite knowing Misty was far beyond her reach, both in time and space, Cordelia stretched out a hand, hoping this would be the time she'd be experiencing more than a flashback. This would be the one time that the sour taste in her mouth was more than a memory. This would be the one time Misty's screaming would be more than a cerebral echo, the one time Cordelia's hand would gather a fistful of Kingery's sweater vest and jerk him away before he could wrap Misty's trembling fingers around the scalpel. And just for a moment, Cordelia felt her grip close around something very real, the white-hot sensation in her palm assuring her that she had penetrated whatever veil existed between her and Misty's personal Hell.
She'd done it! She was sure of it!
"Cordelia! What the hell are you doing?" someone shrieked. Cordelia felt the girl slap her hand away, and she blinked dazedly, noticing the teapot had been knocked over into the sink. Zoe was standing with her in the kitchen, clutching her by the wrist and holding her hand up in the air. It was then that Cordelia realized she hadn't accomplished what she thought she had. Wincing at the red, curdled skin of her palm, it was clear she had foolishly grabbed the metal teapot by the spout and apparently refused to let go. Along with Zoe, Queenie and a few other girls had come scrambling into the kitchen, all staring at Cordelia with wide and worried eyes. The sense of panic that lingered in her chest began to mingle uncomfortably with shame over her failure and disconcerting behavior.
"I-It's alright, girls," Cordelia forced herself to recover quickly for the sake of the young faces around her, "You should all get back to bed. I'm sorry for waking you." The girls didn't move, refusing to leave the wounded behind. "I'm alright," Cordelia sketched on a strained smile, shrugging with fraudulent casualness "No one ever said the Supreme couldn't be clumsy." After exchanging looks of either concern or suspicion, the girls offered Cordelia nervous smiles.
"Okay," they said slowly, "Feel better. Goodnight, I guess." As they shuffled out, muttering quietly amongst themselves and theorizing over what really had just happened, Zoe let go of Cordelia's hand.
"I'm sorry," Cordelia said sheepishly.
"What were you doing?" Zoe's eyes were still wide, her furrowed brow causing crinkles in her young face. Zoe knew Cordelia too well to believe this was an incident of sheer clumsiness, but Cordelia didn't want to admit the truth. It had been five years, but sometimes she felt like she had just lost Misty earlier that day. So, she just turned silently to the sink to let Luke-warm water pour gently over her hand, willing Zoe and Queenie to stop studying her like an injured bird. "You're crying," Zoe said quietly.
"You'd be too if you just shook hands with a boiling teapot," Queenie said blatantly. As she and Zoe shared a befuddled and almost disapproving stare, Cordelia felt her chest and ears flush with embarrassment. How could she let her girls see her like this?
"No, don't do that," the sink was hastily flicked off as a kind, but worried voice rang in her ear. Before Cordelia could register whose it was, two gentle, eclectically decorates hands cradled her burnt one. "Sorry it took me so long," those Agapanthus Blue eyes met Cordelia's momentarily-dazed stare, "Been awhile, and somebody moved my mud." A jar of Louisiana mud under her arm, Misty led Cordelia into the dining room where the lighting was better and sat her down. "Can y'all grab be something to wrap her hand in?" Misty asked as Zoe and Queenie stood in the doorway. Zoe held out her hand and waited for a moment as a roll of bandages zipped into her grasp.
"Misty," Cordelia muttered breathlessly. She had the very distinct feeling of being swaddled in the haze of sleep although her mind was ready to be awake. Earlier today, she thought slowly, we met Mallory, and Nan showed up with Misty. No, no… She blinked forcefully and recalled waking up from a dream –that dream– just a few minutes ago. She came down to get tea to calm her nerves. The greenhouse, she told herself patiently, you proved to Misty - and you - that she was alive. You came inside and finished dinner, and Misty fell asleep on the couch while Stevie sang. Remember? You covered her with a blanket and went to bed.
"I got her," Misty offered with a little nod that told Zoe and Queenie they could go back to bed, followed by a reassuring smile when they hesitated. The two witches reluctantly said goodnight, swearing they'd come right back if Cordelia needed anything. Somewhere in her mind Cordelia heard herself thank them.
Misty didn't say anything as she tended to Cordelia's burn; she just hummed Two Kinds of Love quietly - almost to herself it seemed. Cordelia slowly felt her head start to clear and acknowledge that even though today had masqueraded as a dream, it had all been very real. Misty was really sitting in front of her, wrapping a bandage around Cordelia's mud-smeared hand, her wild hair falling loosely into her eyes. Cordelia didn't ever quite understand how she was so comfortable working intently with those golden errant tendrils in her face. When she had gone blind, the first thing Cordelia had to do when she woke up was tame her hair to keep it out of her face, at risk of going mad. She had always admired Misty's level of ease with herself, was envious of it at times, but now she simply found it beautiful. Behind the hair that hid her face as she set Cordelia's hand on her knee to tie off the bandage, Cordelia could see that Misty was wearing a soft smile like a velvet sky wears a shy moon. It was impossible to describe what it felt like to see her smile like that after being haunted by her cries for so long.
"There you go," Misty said, wiping her own muddy hands on her skirt, "You'll be good as new by mornin'." As Cordelia sheepishly took her hand off Misty's lap, Misty looked up and, despite her smile, was obviously concerned. "What on earth were you doin'?" she asked. Unlike with Zoe and Queenie, Misty's expression and tone was completely void of judgement and disapproval. She wanted to know because she thought she could help.
"You know I'm clumsy sometimes," Cordelia said. She didn't want to lie to Misty, and she knew deep down there was no need to save face in front of her - Misty wasn't the same as the young girls under her watch. The truth was if Cordelia told her what really happened, she'd take it on and wear the blame like a yolk. Misty didn't need that right now. She certainly didn't deserve it either. What Cordelia had seen and felt was her own fault because Misty had been trapped on her watch.
"Cordelia," Misty's voice was low, passing back the bad bill of goods Cordelia was trying to sell her. Misty always had an innocence and gentleness about her that led people to underestimate her, but Cordelia knew she was whip-smart in terms of people, and it broke her heart to suddenly notice a heavy maturity in her eyes that wasn't there before. That wasn't to say Misty was immature, but it was clear that hell had stolen years away from her as any trauma does. Something would just always be different now, and Cordelia knew what that was like.
"I wasn't paying attention and grabbed the teapot the wrong way," Cordelia offered as a partial truth, hoping it would satisfy Misty's curiosity enough for her to let it go.
"You know," Misty said and cocked her head slightly, "you could put shit in a bowl and tell me it's pudding, but my nose works fine so I ain't taking a bite." Cordelia physically felt Misty's eyes searching her for some honesty, but she couldn't choke down the laugh burbling in her chest. That was such a Misty thing to say, and Cordelia had missed that so much.
Cordelia had lived in New Orleans for most of her life, but thanks to Fiona's judgments, she had never picked up the Cajun drawl or any Southern idioms, both of which Misty mastered. Sometimes, she wore them with such charm and confidence, they made Cordelia bust with a joyous giggle. As Cordelia chuckled, Misty's shoulders slumped with defeat that Cordelia either wasn't taking her seriously or was looking for any way out of the current conversation.
Cordelia saw the look on Misty's face and immediately tried reeling herself back in at risk of hurting her feelings. However, she was in no way laughing at Misty, and the more she tried swallowing her laughter, the stronger it grew. The reality had suddenly hit her that she hadn't laughed freely - that is, without a pang of lingering guilt - in so long that her body was taking full advantage of even the slightest sense of amusement. Soon more laughter was going out of her than air was coming in. She collapsed against the back of her chair, while tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, laughing silently and knocking the wind out of herself. And by then, whatever had taken Cordelia over had gotten to Misty too. Misty's laugh was Cordelia's opposite, suddenly bursting out of her chest with the carefree echoes of someone who never worried about being hushed. It was, perhaps, one of the happiest sounds to ever fill the dining room of the academy. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Fiona was trying to tell Cordelia she looked like she'd gone absolutely mad, but the voice was drowned out by Misty doubling over as her attempt to breathe turned into a snort. Before the first fit died out, Cordelia's laugh wound itself back up as Misty dropped into her lap.
By the time the two of them managed to calm themselves, Cordelia's stomach, cheeks, and even her back ached from working to keep her upright in her chair. Misty was still working to gather herself as she sat back, letting Cordelia tuck her hair behind her ears so it didn't cling to the tears on her cheeks. Misty's cheeks were bright, her smile warm and real, and her eyes sparkling and genuine as she looked at Cordelia. It filled her with hope.
"I think," Cordelia pulled her hand back at studied her bandage, "I think I got mud in your hair."
"Don't worry about it," Misty said, sighing like she was relieved, "I was in that swamp for so long, I probably got mud in my veins." The room fell into a comfortable silence as the two witches caught their breath and let their aches ease a bit.
"I haven't laughed like that in so long," Cordelia said wistfully.
"I wasn't meaning to make you laugh," Misty answered.
"The best laughs are never on purpose," Cordelia offered Misty a quiet, knowing smile.
Seeing her wheels shake back into motion, Cordelia leaned forward and took Misty's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm okay now," she said with absolute honesty, "I promise." While Misty finally looked like she believed her, the sweet witch wrapped her other hand around Cordelia's, a sadness behind her eyes saying that she wished Cordelia felt she could lean on her the way she knew she could lean on Cordelia. And seeing that look caused Cordelia's eyes to burn with the eminent threat of tears. She took a deep breath, smoothing her thumb over the back of Misty's hand, desperate to avoid saying anything that would burden her ability to heal.
"I-I had a nightmare," Cordelia said slowly, "and when I woke up, I realized the nightmare was real - it was over, but it was real. And it's just hard to remember it's over." It was vague, but it was the truth. The most important thing was that she hadn't named Misty or given her any reason to take on an unfair sense of guilt.
Misty just nodded, tears in her eyes as she quietly choked out, "Me too." Cordelia wiped her cheeks as each tear came, wishing to herself that they could go back to laughing together. It would happen again, she knew. This was grief. This was trauma and hurt. It wouldn't be smooth, and it wouldn't be quick. "I wish I knew how to help," Misty offered with a heavy, uneven sigh.
"No," Cordelia shook her head, cradling Misty's face in her hands, "don't say that. You've done enough... Yes, you have" - she insisted as Misty shook her head ruefully - "You being here is enough. Your eyes, your… sweet smile is enough. All you need to worry about is healing. You deserve that. And I- we are all here to help you."
"I don't even know where to start, Cordelia," Misty said with a strangled voice, her fingers hugging Cordelia's wrists to keep her face in her hands, apparently worried Cordelia would let her go, "None of this seems real to me. I woke up alone on that couch, and I was convinced today had been some sick trick the voodoo demon was playin' on me. If I hadn't heard you and Zoe in the kitchen, I…. I woulda run out the door lookin' for a way out. None of this makes sense. Why am I back? Why now? And what's to say someone down there ain't going to change their mind about me and come to take me back?"
Cordelia was not a woman who liked the questions she couldn't answer, and these were the same questions burning in her own mind. She didn't know why Papa Legba had suddenly decided to let Misty go. Sure, she was innocent and didn't deserve Hell, but that hadn't ever stopped him from keeping someone down there before. Besides, Cordelia had summoned him and pleaded with him to release Misty, but the cost had been steep, even for him – he wanted a trade: Queenie for Misty. If she had agreed and Misty learned what Cordelia had paid, it would have left them both unhinged. She had spent five years pouring over texts, visiting and revisiting hell, meeting with even the most twisted witches and warlocks to try and find Misty a way home. Misty was right. It didn't make any sense at all. And that's why they were both awake, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Papa Legba never did anything for free, and Cordelia hadn't seen a receipt that proved she didn't have an outstanding bill to pay for Misty's safe return.
"I don't know, Misty. I'm sorry," Cordelia admitted uncomfortably, "But they will not change their minds. Papa Legba is not a stupid man, and coming through that door to take you away again would be the dumbest fucking decision anyone or thing could ever make." The look on Misty's face told Cordelia she had instilled some solid assurance that Papa Legba would not be able to saunter in and simply throw Misty over his shoulder to take her back. But it was clear she was still scared, probably waiting for the same bill Cordelia was.
"Can I be honest about somethin'?" Misty asked, lowering Cordelia's hands from her face, but still holding them tight. Cordelia just nodded. "I like my space, time with my plants and Stevie," she took a drag of the air around her and gave Cordelia an uncertain look, "but I don't… I don't want to be alone right now."
Cordelia understood the sentiment. If she had woken up and found that Misty was close, her mind wouldn't have resorted to thinking her return was a dream. Misty would have been there, a very tangible, sweet reality that would have kept Cordelia from stumbling into the kitchen and nearly burning her palm bare to its bones. Yet, Cordelia was also acutely aware of the fact that in a moment where she was witnessing her friend in pain a few hours earlier, she had kissed her. Misty didn't seem offended by it. She didn't pull away, or even flash a judgmental glare. She didn't say or do anything about it at all. Nevertheless, despite the instinct to wake her up from the couch and bring her upstairs, Cordelia didn't want to add any more confusion to Misty's day. She covered her with a blanket and left her to rest on the couch to deliberately avoid making Misty uncomfortable. Apparently, she still seemed to fail at that somehow.
"You don't have to sleep on the couch," Cordelia vacillated sheepishly, suddenly realizing her hands were shaking slightly, something Misty surely would have noticed. The reality was that Cordelia was self-aware enough to understand she had taken Misty's death harder than the others, and she felt something different when she saw Misty walk in as compared to seeing Nan. She just didn't want that to be entirely evident because she hadn't quite sorted it all out in her head. So, in contradiction to what she was about to say, she pulled her hand from Misty's. "You're welcome to stay with me," she offered as if she were a concierge explaining a hotel's complimentary continental breakfast, adding dryly, "in my room. Since the academy is full. Or I can go see if Queenie wouldn't mind sharing. She got herself a king bed, which of course she calls a Queenie bed. I'm not sure how you feel about silk sheets. Hers are purple. She's very pleased with the aesthetic."
Misty's eyes wore soft, patient smiles that led to Cordelia rambling on for a few more minutes about how, since they were on the Council, she felt it was only fair that Zoe and Queenie be free to decorate their spaces however they liked. That segued into an explanation about how she didn't think Zoe would have room because Kyle stayed with her, which Cordelia had been reluctant about at first, but then realized she wasn't Zoe's mother. Even if she was, Zoe was a grown woman who could make her own decisions.
"The younger girls can't wait until they get married someday," Cordelia wound down, "They think they're such a sweet couple."
"I think I'd like that," Misty finally said before Cordelia could get lost on another tangent, " – to stay with you…if you really mean it. I think I'd sleep a little better knowin' you were there." Everything was quiet for a second as Cordelia's mind settled with Misty's encouragement that the offer hadn't made her uncomfortable, insisting she couldn't imagine Cordelia ever doing anything to make her feel that way.
She led Misty upstairs, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to make sure she was still there, and let them both into her room. Despite the many changes within the academy, Cordelia's bedroom had remained the same - simple, minimalist, with a limited color palette. Even in the grey light cast in from the cloudy night outside the window, Misty seemed to breathe brightness and life into the room. She just had that effect on things. Cordelia admired that for a split second and then disappeared into her closet to retrieve a small trunk. As she set it on the ottoman, Misty looked at it in wonder.
"These are some of the things you left here," Cordelia opened it to reveal some of Misty's clothes and tapes, "We had to make room for the girls, but I couldn't… I wasn't willing to give it away. I thought about taking it to your house, but it has your tapes, and I didn't want something to happen to them in case…" Her voice trailed off as Misty knelt in front of the trunk and gingerly scooped the basket of Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, and Buckingham Nicks tapes into her arms. "Zoe and Queenie thought it'd be better to let them go," Cordelia said absentmindedly, "but I think it was because they wanted me to move on."
Misty looked up at her, eyes glowing from a smile that lit up her entire face. Before Cordelia could say anything more, Misty leaped to her feet and threw her arms around her with a force that nearly knocked them both over. Her hug was so tight, Cordelia's rib cage actually ached in protest, but it didn't stop her from chuckling at the sudden burst of joy Misty displayed.
"Thank you for keepin' her safe," Misty whispered over Cordelia's shoulder.
"Of course," Cordelia smiled, holding Misty close.