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She found her sat on the bench in front of her locker.
Armour and undersuit stripped down to her waist, head in her hands, her hair spilling down around her shoulders and veiling her face. There were fresh bruises outlining some of the more vulnerable parts of their armour, fresh scrapes in the paint of her remaining pieces. She didn’t stir when Connie stepped into the room, or as the door shut behind her.
Connie knew better than to approach without warning, but kept her voice quiet. “Carolina?”
A grunt of acknowledgement. It was okay to approach now. Connie crossed the room quickly but quietly to crouch down in front of her, peering up at her through the waterfall of red hair. She parted it gently with a finger, to get a better look at her. Carolina didn’t lift her head, too focused on keeping her breathing even.
“What happened?”
There wasn’t any answer, at least, not one said aloud. Instead Carolina finally tilted her head up and, as she carefully tucked her hair back behind her ear, Connie could see the blossoming of bruises up the left side of her face. Her fingers brushed against something tacky; there was blood, from an impact close to her temple. There was a split in her lower lip from where she’d chewed too hard. Put together with the bruises on her torso and arms, with the scrapes in her armour, and it wasn’t hard for Connie to piece together the mission failure that had lead her here. Add in the burning look in her eyes−anger or hurt, Connie could never quite tell−and she could all but hear the dressing down she’d received.
He was always so hard on her.
“I see.”
Carolina cast her eyes down again, closed them as the gentle pressure of a kiss touched her forehead. The other side of her hair was tucked back behind her ear, Connie’s hands cupping the sides of her head gently as her thumbs stroked along her cheeks. Every touch sent a pleasant warmth through her, radiating from the pressure points of contact and seeping into the rest of her body. Slowly the heat spread, and her muscles relaxed.
There was a pleased hum. Gently the hands cupping her head coaxed her to look up, just enough that Connie could see her face. She pressed the fingers of her right hand carefully against the bruising, shushing softly at the faint wince that crossed Carolina’s features. After a moment, her lips replaced her fingers; two kisses, one to her temple and one to the worst of the bruising. It was strange how that almost made some of the throbbing fade; Carolina knew that it was a psychological thing, that it wasn’t really doing anything, but she tried not to let that cancel it out.
Now that Carolina was looking up on her own, free hands ran down over her shoulders, down her arms, grasped her hands−all leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her thumbs brushed over Carolina’s bruised knuckles, rubbed circles on the back of her hands. Carolina squeezed tight.
Connie squeezed back. She had her.
“You’re− you’re warm.” Carolina’s voice was raw. It had only just come back to her. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah?” Connie asked, running her thumb over the bumps and creases of her knuckles. Her only response was a nod. “Good.”
She brought her hands up to her face, pressed them to her lips. Almost in an instant, a little more of the tension melted away. Her breathing was no longer so mechanically even. She wasn’t thinking so hard about making herself stay calm; instead, all of her attention was on Connie, letting her calm down naturally.
It was Carolina who eventually caught Connie’s lips as she leant up to kiss her forehead; it was Connie who melted into it, who rested her forehead against Carolina’s when they pulled away.
Connie smiled at her, “Come on. Let’s get you out of that armour, back to the room.”
When Carolina smiled back, her face only brightened.
“…Okay. Okay.”