A/N: I feel miserable, therefore angst ficlet. This is in fact part of a larger story in the works... Sorry for that. Enjoy, maybe.
Never Alone
Shego's eyes stung. Whether open or closed, they prickled with tiny needles of fire—the result of hours of crying. Now, she had scant tears left to cry even as her chest continued to heave with dry sobs. Her throat ached from the pain of the shrieks and moans she had given—desperate, wordless cries from the depths of her soul that had no answer.
Her body was leaned forward from the ferocity of her sobs, and had not all of her being been thrust into grief she would have realized she had pulled several muscles in the emotional ordeal. Her fingers, which had alternately clutched the sofa and the air until her knuckles were white, now scraped helplessly at the fabric at her knees as she continued to release her suffering in dry heaves, even her rasping coughs echoing back and forth against the walls of the lair.
She had forgotten that anything else in the world existed except the ravaged body she barely felt was hers, until cool fingertips covered the swelling of her tightly closed eyelids. Their soft presence soothed the heat beneath, and Shego felt a slow return to Earth as she let that be her anchor—first just the cool, and then the definition of the shape of the fingers. She knew them well, as well as her own, and something deep inside of her found a hope in the simple touch.
After what felt like an eternity, she lifted a shaking hand to grip the wrist before her, and then the other. Drakken's fingers didn't leave her face before wiping away the salt and the last hints of moisture, his touch gentle and delicate. She held his wrists tightly when he made to lower his hands, and she felt him shift closer rather than move away as she had feared. She kept her eyes closed as his weight settled next to her on the sofa, and she loosened her grip just slightly so he could angle his wrist more comfortably. And then his fingers brushed more salt from her cheeks.
"Shego..." he said. His voice was dark and soft; soothing, and yet filled with understanding as he shared in her pain. And while part of her screamed that no one could ever understand, another part of her knew that he was the only one who did.
A moment. A choked breath. And then she fell into him as the sobs began anew, this time with her face buried in his neck as somehow her body found more liquid to burn her eyes as she dampened his collar with her tears. His arms surrounded her and pulled her into him gently, until they lay in a tangle of limbs on the couch.
She knew he was speaking—her name, and soft assurances, and affirmations of his love and promises that all would be well...when they both knew it could never be. Yet she clung to his words even as she barely heard them, hoping against reality that somehow he was right. But more than his words, she found solace in the cool of his touch as his fingers wove into her hair and drew her into him while his other hand continued to wipe away her tears.
He cared. Nothing may ever be right in the world again. But he cared. And no matter what happened, she knew... She would never be alone.