Enamor

The first time Elsie finds a posy of wildflowers on her bedside table, she thinkst nothing of it; true, Sarah doesn't strike her as the type to gather daisies and forget-me-nots and the like, but the Scot is willing to admit that her companion is a bit of mystery to her. She puts them in a glass of water and goes about her day.

And so life carries on. More tiny bouquets show up, violets and other lovely things that Elsie can't recall the names of. Bags of her favorite sweets begin appearing out of nowhere, and though Elsie clucks her tongue and mutters something about the budget at Sarah's back she still smiles.

One day Elsie finds that someone has slipped a new hair comb among her brush and pins, small but elegantly carved of some rich dark wood. She holds it in her hands, lets her fingers stroke down the teeth, and sighes.

She finds Sarah in their tiny kitchen making up the grocery list and Elsie tows her away from the counter with an arm around her hips and an air of sternness.

"You've gone soft, Sarah O'Brien." she says primly, holding the comb up for Sarah's inspection. The younger woman blinks when Elsie begins to gently draw the teeth over the curve of her neck, but manages a smug little look in the end.

"Wooing's not a crime, you know."

Celebrate

Sarah lounges against Elsie, lazily taking the sponge and trickling water over the shapely legs that are clasped so possessively around her person. Behind her, the Scot flickes through a day-old newspaper in studious silence. Steam rises up around them from their bathwater, carrying the scent of lavender and coaxing Sarah into a lovely drowsy place- surely there was no greater luxury than this?

"Oh my."

Sarah opens her eyes, recognizing the laugh behind the gravity of Elsie's voice.

"What's happened?"

"It seems that the House of Lords has finally decided that so-called 'acts of gross-indecency' between ladies are not to be illegal after all."

"That's a relief." Sarah yawns, tilting her head back and absently running her pruning fingers up and down Elsie's thighs. "Shouldn't be able to sleep at night if I thought I was breakin' the law."

That sets them both to laughing, and the older woman tosses aside her paper in favor of draping her arms over her companion's shoulders. Sarah shudders as Elsie nips at her earlobe.

"A celebration of sorts is in order, wouldn't you say?"

Unbind

"Easy, darlin'."

Sarah goes slow, loosening Elsie's corset one lace at a time, her touch gentle. The other woman is unnaturally still under her hands, breathing deep and steady as Sarah goes about her work.

"Just hold on."

The telegram had come just this morning, and Sarah had known from the moment it was put in Elsie's hand. She'd wanted to burn it, wanted to throw her arms around her lover and put herself between her and the wretched thing, as if her mere physical presence could shield Elsie from what waited on their table.

It came anyway.

"There."

She slides the corset from around Elsie's waist and leaves her for a moment so that she might tuck it away.

The little moments of privacy were nearly as important as having someone with you, though Sarah can't say why.

She returns and says nothing when she finds Elsie shaking, head bowed low. Sarah bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood, a ferocious ache gnawing at her insides.

She wanted to say I know darling, I know what this is, I know you in this moment and I lived and you'll live and

"Come on, sweet."

Elsie follows her to bed and lays down as obediently as a child and dear Jesus, the tears have come at last, silent and unstoppable. Sarah crawls in beside her and held her, cradling Elsie's head to her breast and working her fingers into that thick dark hair.

Sarah keeps quiet and lets Elsie grieve in peace.

In Celebrate, Elsie is referring to the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1921, which sought to make female homosexuality illegal but was shot down.