A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the long wait! I had some roadblocks, but this chapter is extra long, so I hope you forgive me.
Misty moved into the house again that same night. She took over for Fiona, helped Cordelia dress and eat and take her medication. It felt like taking care of a doll. She might be breathing and she stood up or lifted an arm, when Misty told her to, but she wasn't there. She didn't say a word the first whole day Misty was back. She barely slept at all, but stared into the ceiling or curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, clawing at her temples with panic in her scratches, until blood came. It didn't give her rest. Whatever it was she heard, that Misty couldn't hear, tormented her enough to keep her from sleep.
The panic always woke Misty up. She sat down beside Cordelia in the dark and gently pried her trembling fingers away from her face.
"It won't do no good, scratchin' yourself bloody, darlin'."
Cordelia looked at her and the purest form of despair shone from her eyes. Misty didn't need her words, she understood this just as well. She pulled Cordelia into her arms and stroked her hair, while she sang a quiet song, hoping it could ease some of Cordelia's pain, since her hands couldn't reach it.
Cordelia struggled at first, whimpered with resistance, but at last she cradled herself in Misty's embrace. Her head rested at the crook of Misty's neck and her wrists were caught by Misty's hand, so she couldn't scratch. The exhaustion came off her like an aura, something so consuming it felt almost solid. Like a frizz in the air. Misty kept singing until she calmed and she prayed she could at least do this for Cordelia. Get her to sleep a few hours. She felt so powerless in this, because Cordelia wasn't only injured; she was broken and in a way Misty didn't have the first clue how to mend.
Caught in Misty's embrace, sleep seemed a little easier for Cordelia. After three songs, her breathing slowed to that of a light slumber. Misty didn't dare move, but sat still, listening to the sound of her breathing. She kept on singing, but it was mostly to calm herself.
When morning came, so did the deep-rooted indifference that often inhabited Cordelia's body now. She looked at Misty as if she was a part of the wall. Cordelia now had dark shadows under her eyes from the five days of largely no sleep and her dead expression made her look like a ghost more than ever. The smile in her eyes, which Misty used to find whenever their eyes locked, was long gone. Often, Cordelia looked at her like she didn't even recognize her. She received her morning pill as if she was being handed a remedy from a stranger. She had taken the medication every time Misty offered it, but to no avail. Fiona passed on the doctor's words, that these type of drugs took a while to exert any noticeable effect, but it didn't bring Misty much comfort. None of the states, Cordelia alternated between, offered any kind of hope that the treatment would ever work. Misty wasn't sure if the reality-lapses was even that much worse than this indifference. She could live with the silence, but not when it accompanied such hollow presence.
"You gotta get it out, Delia." She said one afternoon, when she had had enough, and kneeled in front of Cordelia. Cordelia sat on a chair in her bedroom this time, staring out the window. Misty didn't know what she was trying to spot out there, but she would take whatever explanation, if Cordelia would only give it to her. "You're always the talker. You tell me things, when you needa sort 'em out. I'll listen to whatever it is." Cordelia didn't take her eyes away from the window and her swimming gaze seemed as infinite as the sky outside. Her hand didn't give the slightest hint that it realized the contact with Misty's. "Say somethin', please."
Her eyes flickered this time. Cordelia's absent gaze turned hard, when she finally acknowledged Misty's presence.
"They say so many cruel things", she said. Her eyes were still fixated on something in a distance, her body stayed rigid, and her tone dead. Yet, it was still her own delicate voice, one that used to speak such beautiful words, and the loss of softness broke Misty's heart. Cordelia swallowed once and continued: "They say maybe it's your fault I'm like this. Myrtle died for you. You left. Maybe I would have been normal, if I'd never known you."
Misty felt tears sting in her eyes. She couldn't catch Cordelia's eyes so she hoped a squeeze of her hand would empathize her words instead. They came out croaked and quivering:
"I'm sorry I hurt you so much. You know I am. I'd do anythin' to make up for it, name it."
"Can you leave me alone?"
Misty felt like the cold, despicable hand clenched around her insides again. She felt like a failure. Creating distance seemed like the worst possible idea, but even so, she stood up.
"Sure. I-I'll go check on Nick for a while. I'll be back soon."
Cordelia only continued to stare out the window.
Misty strode out of the room. She overheard Fiona's "Where do you think you're going?", as she passed her in the hall and left the house.
Nick awaited her at her garden. He must have had a bad night too, because he had ruined a few of her herbal plants. Misty dried her eyes with the back of her hand and got to work. At least this she still knew how to do. Plants were easier than people. And the only things they whispered were notes of nature. Never cruel whispers.
She had found that she could heal certain plant injuries too. She didn't know why that was, but she didn't need to. Her body told her that here was something she could fix, so she did. Soon the little herb poked up from the ground, content and alive.
When that was done, she went inside and tried cleaning the mess of blood on her floor. She had left some of it, the stains more stubborn to come off. Only now could she find the motivation. She scrubbed with every cleaning mixture she had, but it had soaked into the wood of the floorboards and would likely never come off again. She scrubbed until her fingers hurt, and when it still wouldn't vanish, she growled in frustration and threw all her utensils across the room. She went outside to Nick again, who still laid by the garden, unaffected by her outburst. She hoped to absorb a bit of his calm, but her whole body throbbed with anger over this problem she couldn't solve. When Fiona asked her to help, her naivety had led her to believe that she could. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure. But Fiona had come to her, which meant she had lost hope in every treatment civilization had to offer. Misty was the last resort. And she was failing.
"How was I supposed to know it, Nick? How was I supposed to know that it would wreck her like this? If only mama had explained it better. Or if Fiona had stopped me. She wanted to, I know it."
The alligator remained a silent rock.
"Don't tell me you blame me too." She sniffled and watched the late autumn wind blow leaves over Nick's scaly back. One leaf got caught there for just a second, struggled against the rough skin before it jumped into the air and soared through the wind. She watched it float in the air, up and away, before she could pull herself together. "I know I shouldn't hide out here. I know that. Can't keep bein' scared." She drew a determined breath, wiped the last of her tears away and rose to her feet. "That's enough space. She needs me, you know. Whether she likes to admit it or not. You be good, while I'm gone, and leave my plants alone, okay?"
She gave him a small smile before he left. He always made her feel better, even when there was nothing to feel good about.
The house seemed threatening now, in another sense than before. This time it wasn't the house itself, but knowing that the one light within it had been blown out. It felt like shadows emerged from the creaks of the structure, seeped into her as she entered. This aching perplexity she felt was something new entirely, inescapable and suffocating. The further she came into the house the harder it became to breathe through. But she had to.
On her way, she found Fiona sitting in the kitchen, staring at the phone, a glass of whiskey beside her and the bottle on the other side.
She looked up when Misty stopped, eyed the glass and said. "I know what you're thinking. I'm not a complete idiot. I won't lose my head, when she's like that."
Misty didn't say anything, but went to take a glass of water.
"You sure left in a hurry."
"She wanted space." Misty swallowed once and emptied her glass. Her voice sounded strained. It only took one sentence from Fiona to pry open the lit she had spent a good twenty minutes screwing onto her emotions and now she felt like crying all over again.
"She wanted space from you? Christ, we're in trouble." Misty kept her back to Fiona, didn't want to show her that her eyes were watering up. If only Fiona would stop poking, where it hurt the most. Misty started to get a new understanding Cordelia's childhood torments.
"Please Misty. You have to help me." The tone of her voice had made such a radical change, it caused Misty to turn around. The harsh look was gone from Fiona's face. Several layers had been stripped off in a second and left was only a pleading expression.
"I said-" She started, but Fiona interrupted her.
"Oh don't be so goddamn stupid! It's not for my sake, it's for Cordelia's. You see how she handles death. How do you think she's going to react, when I die from this, huh? That's on you too, if you don't fix me. We both know you can."
"We don't. I can't fix everythin'."
"You could at least try. Because I'm sitting here, planning the funeral and if you don't step up, I might as well start making calls for my own. I know I'm not her favorite person, but all she wants is a family and soon she will have none. There'll be nothing left of her!" Fiona hissed the last words out and then looked away. The notion that Fiona might be hiding tears, made Misty afraid in a way. It felt like everybody was surrendering. The whole house was going into a strange kind of hibernation, dragged into sleep by the darkness that eluded from the second floor. Misty felt like she was suffocating again.
"I just told her I cancelled her fertility treatment this morning", Fiona said in a mushy voice. "And nothing. This is worse than last time. If she doesn't even want you…"
"But why did you do that? Cancel? It's important to her. You just said that with wantin' family."
Fiona shook her head. "There's no point now. The doctor says the antipsychotics are working against the treatment anyway. I guess it's all up to you."
Misty let herself fall back against the kitchen counter. "But I don't know what to do", she admitted. Her voice trembled at the edge. "She's so broken."
"Well fix her!" Misty's gaze snapped up to find Fiona staring at her with fury in her eyes. "That's what you do, isn't it? My daughter breaks and you swoop in and put her back together."
"I think maybe she gotta do this one on her own."
"She's a dead soul in a living body! How can she possibly do anything?"
"You don't get it!" Misty screamed at her. She sobbed once and then she was crying in front of the woman, she had sworn she would never show weakness. The unspoken power struggle, which had always raged between them, seemed meaningless now. She didn't even try to cover the tears. "I did this to her", she cried. "'Cause I left. And then came back. I called out for her in the woods back then and I've been pushin' her to tell him. I should have just let her live her own life. She's right, it's my fault."
Fiona took a sip of her whiskey and offered the bottle to Misty. Misty understood the gesture, but shook her head. Fiona shrugged and put it back. Then she drew out a little cardboard box and lit a cigarette from it. Misty watched the smoke twirl into the air for a few empty seconds.
"Perhaps it is", Fiona finally said and looked up again. "I wouldn't know. But if you want the truth, she was never happy without you."
"Not even before she met me?"
Fiona shrugged. "Some days she was. But hell, she was stuck with me several states away from her aunt and the few friends she had. Your timing wasn't that awful."
Misty thought about it, tried to let the thought console her. She blinked the last tears away and sniffled once.
"Thanks." Fiona gave her a small nod and turned a page on the catalogue on the desk, effectively checking out of the conversation. Misty was relieved to be released. "I'll go check on her."
Misty would never have thought she'd live to see the day, but the brief conversation with Fiona had left her more optimistic. It was exactly the armor she needed to keep her emotions in check, when she found Cordelia.
She hadn't moved from the chair, but now she sat curled up in it, shaking and clawing at her head again. She whimpered unintelligible words. The indifference had vanished for a moment, swallowed up by frightful hallucination. Misty rushed to her side.
"Delia, please calm down, it's okay. It ain't real."
Cordelia saw nothing, but continued her quest to scratch the voices out of her head. She had smeared her own blood all over her temples and into her hair, and it had crept under her fingernails too. Misty had to fight against the urge to heal, because she had to calm Cordelia first. Fighting this urge built into a panic in her chest, a panic that intensified as she felt Cordelia's own, but she bit it all down and focused on step one.
She tried to get hold of Cordelia's hands, but Cordelia ripped them out of her grasp and clasped them around her head again, whimpering wordless despair.
"Darlin', it's me. I'm back. Can you hear me?"
No reaction.
Misty reached up once more to pull her hands away, but Cordelia hissed and snaked them out of Misty's hands again. Misty then grabbed Cordelia by both her wrists, hard, and pulled her to the floor, before she could withdraw a third time. Here Misty could lock her arms around Cordelia's trembling frame and keep her from hurting herself. Cordelia screamed, fought with all her strength against the embrace, but Misty was stronger.
"Stop it Delia! Stop fightin' me, I'm helpin' you!" She held on tighter, until Cordelia could barely move in her arms and shushed her, until she finally calmed. Her battle reduced to a light jerking tremble. "I'm here now. It's okay", Misty soothed. Cordelia dropped her head on Misty's shoulder, exhaling an exhausted breath against her neck.
"Make them stop", Cordelia whispered. "They're talking all at once."
"I'll try. Close your eyes now."
Cordelia didn't say more and Misty could only guess she was exhausted enough to obey without further struggle. When her body ceased to jerk, Misty reached up a hand to tend to the scratches on Cordelia's face. A knot released itself from her gut, when she finally saw the red lines disappear. By the time she had them healed up, Cordelia was half asleep and the only sound left was the pounding in Misty's own ears. Her heart beat so fast it felt like it would burst out of her body. She didn't move, while Cordelia dwelled in her fragile sleep, not even when her feet turned numb.
O0O
Fiona was no mother of the year. She knew that. She was never an expert on children and she didn't have the best handle on teenagers either. Even when her daughter turned adult and she thought that they at least had some common ground, she realized she still only carved the abyss greater between them. The mothering abilities she should have gained throughout Cordelia's childhood never came to and you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Yet, Fiona had never felt as useless as she did today.
She stood by the door, listened and sometimes peeked. After having spent an hour trying to get Cordelia out of bed, she had finally given up and let Misty have her place.
It was the day of the funeral. They would have to leave for the ceremony in an hour. It would be a closed casket affair. Hank's injuries weren't that visible, but Fiona had convinced Harrison that the sight of him might be too much for Cordelia either way. Fiona peeked through the door, watched Cordelia curled up by the headboard, staring into space and thought that seeing Hank wouldn't only be bad for her. It might just kill her.
"Delia, you need to get ready. A hot shower'll be good for you." Misty's voice had gotten softer over the last few days. It always was when she spoke to Cordelia, but more so now. It was fear that grinded the edges off. Misty would probably never admit it, but Fiona knew it. Because the exact same thing happened to her. The only difference between the two them was that Misty was still in there.
"I can't do it", Cordelia said in that ghostly voice, which made Fiona's skin crawl. The only time she sounded present was when she screamed and that sound made Fiona want to downright jump out of her skin. "I shouldn't be there."
"You of all people should be there", Misty argued. "C'mon Delia, you don't wanna leave it like this. You loved him. You needa say goodbye." Misty sat down by her, snaked a hand around Cordelia's wrist and pulled her into a sitting position. Cordelia let herself be dragged and she stayed put, hazy eyes somewhat focused on Misty.
"Why do you stay just to watch me lose my mind over the man that keeps us apart?" She asked. "Why aren't you even mad at me?"
Misty gave her half a smile and tugged a strand of Cordelia's hair behind her ear.
"Can't be mad at you for mournin' your husband, Delia. C'mon now, let's get you cleaned up."
Cordelia didn't say more, but let Misty lead her out of bed. Her walk towards the bathroom was slow and dazed, as if devoid of purpose. Until suddenly a look of nausea flickered across her face. She stumbled out of Misty's grasp and ran to the bathroom. Fiona could only see Misty now, standing back, dumbfounded and helpless as Cordelia threw up. The despair was written in block letters on her face.
Fiona couldn't watch any more. She went down stairs and poured herself a morning whiskey. Then she halted. She stood there for a moment, glared at the glass of forgetting potion. It took her several minutes before she could so much as move. She lifted the glass and poured the liquid out into the sink, then called for Spalding.
He stepped right into the kitchen.
"Get rid of this." She shoved the bottle into his arms, before she had a second thought to change her mind. "Empty Hank's cabinet too. I can't have this distraction at a time like this."
He nodded and gave her an encouraging smile.
"Don't do that, you're not my sponsor. Just have the house cleared of alcohol by the time we get back." He turned to leave and she changed her mind: "No, wait… Keep that one bottle of the whiskey, but don't tell me, where you hide it. I'll need it to keep level."
Spalding nodded and disappeared.
Fiona sighed and sat down. She missed it already. But she couldn't have that fog in her brain today. Hell was about to break loose.
And it did, as soon as they entered the yard in front of the church. Fiona hadn't seen Harrison Foxx in years, only fought against him through written words and other kinds of faceless exchanges. She hadn't expected the first words from him to be kind and she certainly wasn't disappointed.
He cast one look at Misty and the sorrow in his grey features turned hot with rage.
"How dare you mock my pain this way?" He hissed at Fiona. He didn't spare Misty a second look. "I will not have this homewrecker at my son's funeral! I'm not too pleased with your presence as it is!"
The people around them cast nervous glances their way, but no one interfered. It was a small gathering and most kept away, safe at the entrance of the church, free to look.
Fiona looked back at Misty and Cordelia. Misty didn't seem like she planned to retaliate. She was occupied keeping Cordelia sane. She had managed to get her this far, but Fiona knew it was only the constant physical connection that kept Cordelia on her feet and not crawled up in a corner somewhere. Her gaze was empty, her attention turned inward to whatever flickered on and off in her mind.
Fiona looked back at Harrison. "Cordelia is not well, as you may notice. Misty is the sole reason she as much as got out of bed this morning. If she goes, so does Cordelia. You don't have to like it, but accept it. You will not deny her the goodbye she needs. And if you think I'll let my daughter out of my sight in this condition, you've got another thing coming."
His eyes narrowed. "You expect me to just accept this? Are you out of your mind? She's the reason he's dead!" He made a violent gesture towards Misty, who still did nothing but look back. Her face was impossible to read. Harrison stared at her, and it seemed Misty's lack of response only infuriated him more. He took a step forward. "I should have you ar-"
"That's enough." Fiona stepped in front Misty, made sure she blocked his path. She looked right into Harrison red, raging eyes. "You son is dead, because he downed a bottle of vodka and got behind the wheel. I'm sorry it happened, but that's the truth!"
Harrison looked like he was about to explode, when Cordelia's paper-thin, ghostly voice interrupted them:
"You shouldn't blame Misty, Harrison. Blame me. I'm the one who drove him to drink in the first place."
Fiona stepped aside to look at Cordelia, together with the rest of them. With her floating gaze, she found Harrison's eyes and held them, while her hands desperately held on to Misty's arm.
"You did nothing of the sort, Cordelia", Fiona insisted, but none of them payed any attention to her. Fiona had the odd impression that for a moment she was not there. Harrison stepped closer. His angry posture had softened and Fiona let him. The look in his eyes, when as they flickered to Misty, were full of disgust, but it dissolved when he looked at Cordelia. Personally, Fiona thought the pity was worse.
"Obviously, you never intended for this to happen to my son. To your husband." He gave her hand a hesitant and awkward pat. "Why don't we go find out seats? The service starts soon."
They all walked to the church in silence. Fiona still had the sense that she existed outside their world. She was not a part of the grief and that had pushed her out. Oddly enough, it was Misty who looked back to make sure she followed.
She took a place behind Cordelia, while Misty sat beside her, much to Harrison's evident distaste, but he said nothing. He seemed to prefer pretending she wasn't there. For the few who asked, he explained that she was a sort of caretaker of Cordelia's in this time of crisis and no one objected to this explanation. Fiona decided she could offer him that much. She thought back at her last conversation with Hank and found that she regretted her threats. She hadn't forgotten how big a part he had played in Cordelia's recovery the last time and as much as she wanted him out of the picture, this was too far out.
The priest appeared and the crowd silenced. All the kind words were said and songs sang from a choir in the back. Their voices filled the church with that special kind of celestial atmosphere that Fiona always loathed, but accepted, as it seemed to offer everyone else a scrap of peace.
And finally, Cordelia cried.
O0O
It was a brittle hope, but watching Cordelia cry at the funeral gave Misty faith that a bit of her old self was resurfacing. All her emotions seemed to have sunk into a deep hole inside her, but now some came back to linger just under her skin, the way they always did with her. Tears had a healing way of their own, they always worked like a cleansing flood for Cordelia. A cleansing was long overdue. Cordelia even managed to exchange a few words with a couple of guests and receive condolences, before she started rubbing her temples and both Fiona and Misty took it as a clue she needed to get home. But she ate dinner with them that night. It was as awkward as Misty remembered her childhood dinners, but the look on Fiona's face told her that they could at least agree this was progress. Misty came as far as considering perhaps the medication had started to work.
Until she found Cordelia in the bathroom the next day.
"Delia, you out there?" Misty had been gone for only twenty minutes to buy groceries and found the bedroom empty and the bathroom door closed. The whole house was too quiet and Fiona was nowhere to be found. Misty stepped close to the door with silent careful steps, and listened. On the other side, Cordelia drew heaving, trembling breaths.
Misty thanked God the door wasn't locked and barged in.
The sight, which met her, had her heart falling to the bottom of her stomach, where it turned to ice with the rest of her gut.
Cordelia sat on the edge of the bathtub, fighting to catch her breath, on the verge of hyperventilating. Her thighs were smeared with blood from so many cuts Misty instantly gave up counting. She sat in her underwear and there was a cut above the panty line too, a line of red still in progress. At the end of it lingered a small razor, dangling from Cordelia's trembling fingers. When Misty entered, she looked up, slowly as if drained of energy. Her face was a sick shade of pale and her gaze swam. In it Misty found a plead for help.
She practically threw herself on the floor in front of Cordelia, snapped the razor from her shaking hands and threw it into the bathtub. Cordelia flinched as it hit the side with a metallic clink and slid down to the bottom, out of sight.
"Delia, what the hell are you doin'? Please don't…" She couldn't get more words through her closed throat. Heavy dread pressed onto it, tightened it and the absent look in Cordelia's eyes only added to the pulse, her heart hammered out into her system. She cupped Cordelia's face, forced her to make eye contact. Misty felt her own hands tremble as she did it.
"You gotta stop this, hear me? Please. I can mend your skin, but I can't get the real cut."
"They want me to cut deeper", Cordelia whispered, as if she hadn't heard a word Misty said. "It's so dark down here. They say I can't do this. But I'm scared."
"It's okay, darlin'. I'm here. Better get you sealed up quick." The lack of color in her cheeks scared Misty, the feverish sweat too. She didn't wait for Cordelia to give her permission. She kept eye contact, made sure Cordelia didn't pass out on her, while her hands got to work. She could feel the sticky mass of blood against her palms, but ignored it. Cordelia whimpered as she touched the cuts, but didn't push her away. The plead for help still floated somewhere in her eyes.
The panting finally ceased to normal breathing and a little color returned to her face. Misty thought it safe to look down and check that she had them all. All were gone, except the thin line on her stomach. Cordelia was expanding her self-destruction. Misty dragged a thumb over the line, sealed it up. It felt different here. The skin was softer, untouched until now, but Misty felt something else beneath it too. More vibrant skin.
"I need water", Cordelia said.
"'Course." Misty fumbled for the first glass she could find and filled it from the sink. She snarled at her own hands, because they wouldn't stop trembling. She willed her heart to settle down. She had caught it in time, the danger was over now. She handed Cordelia the glass and watched her as she drank it. Tried to convince herself that it was over. It wasn't triumph of avoided disaster, which hung in the air, but rather the dull atmosphere post catastrophe. The silence in which you search for survivors.
When Cordelia sat the glass aside, Misty wetted a towel and kneeled to clean the blood away. Underneath the stream of red was a sealed landscape of mended skin, yet Misty didn't accept that she was healed, until her body was clean. Only now did she realize how red her own hands were. She wiped them in the same towel.
"I could have stopped him", Cordelia said. Her voice sounded a little clearer now. She didn't meet Misty's gaze, but stared at the floor instead. "I should have. My head feels so crammed. I know he did the best he could. And most of the time that was good enough. He was so sweet to me. He has this one blue shirt I really like, but he never wore it unless I told him to. But all I could think was that I couldn't stand if I chose him and you left me again."
"I won't. No matter what."
Cordelia made a faint shake of her head, kept her eyes on the drops of blood on the floor.
"Can't be sure. You wouldn't forgive me if I chose him instead?"
Misty thought about it. It was an impossible scenario now, but it still ached in her chest, considering it. But it wouldn't matter.
"I'd be real sad for a while, but yeah, I'd forgive you eventually."
"Why?"
Despite herself, Misty smiled. She tugged a strand of damp hair behind Cordelia's ear and stroked a thumb over her cheekbone.
"I told you, darlin'. I don't know how to not love you."
Cordelia still didn't look up, but she exhaled a breath that sounded a bit like a sigh of relief.
"Thank you."
Misty stretched up and pressed a careful kiss to her temple. "C'mon, let's get you to bed. You needa get some sleep."
"If I try to sleep they tell me things."
"You gotta try anyway. Hey, look at me." She put a finger under Cordelia's chin and forced her gaze up. At first Cordelia avoided her eyes, looked to the side like a child avoiding a reprimand. Misty waited with forced patience until she finally looked straight. The haze was coming over her eyes again, the clarity had been nothing but a transient moment.
"Will it help if I stay 'till you're asleep?"
"Will you sing?"
"If you want me to."
Cordelia nodded slowly and Misty took it as a sign of permission. She got up and hooked a hand around Cordelia's arm, helped her stand. The slow, dazed walk was still imprinted in Cordelia's steps and she swayed with insecurity – from the recent blood loss, Misty figured. Misty got a better hold of her and guided her to the bed. She didn't bother with clothes but turned the heat up instead. Cordelia had started complaining that her nightgown annoyed her, as if the fabric suddenly felt too scruffy against her skin. Misty pulled up the covers and sat down on the edge of the bed, so she wouldn't disturb Cordelia, when she snuck out later.
Cordelia stared up into the ceiling. A hard look flickered across her face and she said: "The ceiling is dirty. I don't think Spalding knows how to clean it." She paused for a moment and then added: "I shouldn't be with you. Not like this. I don't think I can."
The cold hand returned to Misty's chest, only it squeezed for different reasons. And this was much harder to withstand, because there was no one she could direct her confused anger at. Certainly not Cordelia, even though the words spawned from a dark place inside of her. Misty couldn't let her see the anger and it felt like it choked Misty more with every minute that went by in the silence.
"You can", she said, and tried to keep the quiver out of her voice. Cordelia kept her eyes at the ceiling and Misty grabbed her by her cheeks, forced her head sideways. Their eyes met, but Cordelia's gaze were empty and barely registered it. Misty repeated: "You can. 'Cause we're everythin' you and I, Delia. Sisters, friends, lovers, all of it. Pick whatever one you want and I promise to be there. Just please come back to me."
Cordelia shook her head, and Misty let go of her. She returned her gaze to the ceiling. "I can't be with you. I'm useless. Worthless. Some of them sound a bit like my mother."
The blood in Misty's veins threated to boil over. She didn't say anything, because she feared all she had left was yelling. On the floor beneath them, the front door opened and the unmistakable sound of clicking heels reached their ears. Misty swallowed her fury and began to sing Landslide. It was just as much to calm herself, as it was to calm Cordelia.
As she sang, her mind circled in a desperate search for a solution. Healing Cordelia's cuts would never fix anything. It would never bring her back. It wasn't enough.
And then an idea blossomed. It was risky, she knew, and terrifying too, but not half as much as it was, watching Cordelia fade away into insanity. She knew she had to try.
O0O
A few minutes before Cordelia put the blade to her skin, Fiona walked down the alley with determined steps. As if one waver would make her change her mind. It just might.
He must have sensed it, because his expression wasn't the typical lazy smile, when it came into light.
"Fiona, are you okay?"
"That's a stupid question to ask people you deal cocaine to." He shrugged as a way of speaking, but worry came into his eyes.
"Something happened. I can see it in your face. What's the matter?"
"I need to stop this. The drugs. I need my head clear and I need you to help me, because I am not going to a goddamn clinic."
He was surprised, she could tell that much. "You do realize that asking your drug dealer to help you quit is a very unconventional way to go about it", he said in a careful voice.
"Well it's a good thing I'm not just a client to you then, is it not? Or was that just salesmanship on your part?" Her snapping at him was not an unusual thing, but he looked shocked anyway. It was the first time Fiona had ever confronted him directly about this matter. It was always just flirting between the lines of a well-rehearsed routine.
At last, he shook his head with a solemn expression. "It wasn't."
"Good. So if you do care, you will either help me or get the hell out of my life. I don't care about the money you lose, we can figure that out later, if you insist."
"I would never", Cometh said in his low, gentle voice. "Comfort shouldn't be a paid service."
"I'm not looking for comfort, I want you to make sure I can't get hold of any of that", she waved at his saxophone case. She wanted to snap at him some more, tell him to wipe that pitiful expression off his face, but he took one step closer and there was something about this tentative move, that made her throat tighten. Suddenly she wanted so badly to confess everything, maybe cling to him and feel the warmth of him. His goddamn comfort was getting under her skin already.
"Perhaps if you told me what's bothering you, I can help with that too. I've been worried ever since that strange fellow led you away."
Fiona scoffed. "I told you not to be. And you can't. It's my daughter and I need to stay sharp for her, because she's in deeper than she's ever been and that's saying something. Christ, even Misty's at loss for ideas and if she can't, then I don't know…" Cometh listened without a word. He likely didn't have a clue, what she was talking about, but Fiona couldn't worry about that too. She just had to get it off her chest and before she knew it, she was spilling the whole story, backwards and with a voice thick with tears. She refused to let him see her cry them and so they pressed to her throat, her palate, making her words muffled and stupid, but she talked through it. At one point, he snuck an arm around her and she found herself pressed to him. He was warm and sturdy and he coaxed the last bit of the story out of her.
"It's gonna be okay, sweetheart, you'll see. I'll help you in any way that I can, you have my word." Cometh made soothing strokes up and down her arms and for a moment, she was calmed. She didn't even have it in her to call him out on the nicknaming. She sighed against his chest, allowed herself to enjoy the embrace for just a moment.
That was until she felt him bend down and place a kiss above her cheekbone.
She pushed him away.
"What's this now? Taking advantage of a woman in misery? That's low."
He didn't look hurt, which she would have expected. Rather, there was a look of patience in his features, as if he was staring at some adorable lunatic. Fiona found herself briefly speculating, if this was how Hank or Misty looked at her daughter. Or if she did that herself sometimes. She hoped not.
Then Cometh said: "I was hoping we could still use the word 'comfort'."
Fiona scoffed. "Comfort, is that your new favorite word?"
Cometh only gave her a smile. "Do you feel better?"
Fiona didn't answer. But she did and she had a sneaking suspicion he knew that.
"So you'll help me stay clean?"
"Of course. I never touch it myself either. I'll stop bringing it and I'll escort you on your trips to the city, so you won't be otherwise tempted. Perhaps we'll even get to chat."
"It will have to be in a place without alcohol too."
"Naturally."
"Good." Fiona took a moment to look at his face, ponder if she wanted more of that embrace. She ended up taking a step back and he let her. "I have to get back to my daughter now. I will… Call you."
"I look forward to it", he said with a smile. Fiona left.
When she entered the house, it was quiet at first. It gave her a moment to absorb her decision. It felt like a loss, even though it shouldn't. And it was the worst goddamn time to go into withdrawal, but was it really better to keep floating off on a cloud and let Misty handle the job, she should have mastered long ago? She didn't think so.
It that sense it was a relief to have Cometh agree to help her. No, more than that, it made her happy in a way she hadn't been in a long time. And she felt awful for standing here like a some love struck teenager, while her daughter was losing her mind. Fiona scoffed, sighed at herself. This must one of the battles of the war Cordelia fought everyday; feeling awful when good things finally happen. Another rotten inheritance.
Fiona's questionable peace was disturbed not long after, when Misty came down the stairs. She was angry, that much was obvious even before she entered the room. Fiona sat in her chair, waiting.
She almost jumped out of it, when Misty came in. Never before had she seen her this furious. She just stood there for a few seconds and the rage came off her like waves of heat in cold weather; Fiona could almost see it bending the air. Her breathing was slow and barely controlled and the corners of her eyes blinked with tears.
"Are you alright?" Fiona knew it was provocative, but she'd rather Misty started yelling, so she wouldn't have to admit that the woman was scaring her slightly.
"You. Are the worst. Mama. In. The world." Her words came out through clenched teeth, slow and controlled as if she would attack the second she slipped. Fiona stood. She felt too exposed, sitting there, looking over her shoulder.
"I'm sure you're right", she said. She shot another nervous glance at Misty and the steam of rage around her. "Feel free to yell at me. Or throw something."
"It'll wake her up", she said, as if they were arguing beside a sleeping baby. "You know what she did while you were gone?" A surge of icy cold rushed through Fiona, clenched tight inside her chest. She trusted Misty with Cordelia's life, but now she saw the most horrible scenarios flash before her eyes.
"Is she okay? What hap-"
"What the hell do you think?" Misty snarled. Fiona was just about to react to the panic in her chest, when Misty added: "She's fine now."
"What happened?" Fiona asked again.
"I came home five minutes late, 'cause I thought you were still here, and found her in the bathroom. Cuttin' herself up. She was almost in shock, when I found her. I got it stopped, but she was about to cut her stomach too this time. I got her to bed and know what she said? She said the voices talk just like you."
Fiona drew a heavy breath. Grasped the arm of the chair for support. She thought her parenting had hit rock bottom long ago, but this… God, she deserved to switch places with Cordelia.
"I thought Spalding…" She couldn't even finish the sentence. He could look after her, but what good was he really? You can't mime a 911 emergency call.
"What the hell kinda mama leaves her daughter alone like this?!" It wasn't quite yelling, more an agitated snarl, but it was just as forceful and twice as frightening. Her eyes shone with fury and with her lips curled back over her teeth, Fiona thought she looked like a wild wolf, ready to lunge for her throat. "What's wrong with you?!"
"I couldn't…"
"All you had to do was watch her! But you're afraid to even be near her, ain't you?"
Fiona couldn't take it anymore. She broke down, straight to the floor and the tears from before couldn't be stopped this time. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Oh God, I don't know how to handle this, I'm sorry."
"Ain't me you gotta apologize to", Misty said, her voice hard and merciless.
The sobs came out troubled, like retching, and it hurt her throat. Fiona hated crying, but right now she hated herself more. Maybe the humiliation of crying in front of Misty would serve as punishment.
"But I should. I put it all on your shoulders. I should have had her admitted, have her put in care of professionals. It's too much, but I wouldn't see it. I'm so sorry, Misty."
Misty said nothing, and Fiona cried until she had to stop, because she couldn't breathe. She leaned back against the coffee table, felt the edge of it dig in under her shoulder blades. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Spalding standing by the doorframe, probably because he heard his name. She ignored him. She wanted to yell at him, fire him on the spot for letting this happen, but really, was it fair to blame him?
"I may have an idea", Misty suddenly said. Fiona's head snapped up. Misty was calm again, or as calm as can be. Her reluctance towards her plan shone through, or maybe it was still her disgust with Fiona. She wasn't sure.
"What idea?"
"I'm not sure it's good."
"I don't care. Do whatever you need to save my daughter from herself. You know her best. Is it me? Should I leave, will that help?"
Misty shook her head. "No. She needs you, despite… yeah. You need to stay here." She stopped, sighed as if making one last internal argument, before she said: "Okay, I'll do it. I'll heal you."
