Chapter Text
The scrape of a whetstone against her knife is calming. One, two, three. The sunlight catches on the blade, flaring and turning the steel golden. Raelle leans back against an old log, losing herself in the repetitive work.
One, two, three. The past few months have been a lot for Raelle Collar. The Witchbomb on its own was like going through hell and back, but the tests that Izadora had run Abigail and Raelle though for days on end had set an exhaustion deep in her bones that she wasn’t sure would ever quite leave.
One, two, three. Seeing Tally with her flush, red hair and her youthful features was a breath of fresh air. Apparently, after they’d returned to Fort Salem, Anacostia had found a much more suitable candidate for the Biddies then Tally could’ve ever been. Raelle hadn’t paid much attention to the details. She was just glad to have her Unit whole again.
One, two- “Hey, shitbird!”
Abigail. She’d been thriving since their admittance into War College, almost singlehandedly pulling their Unit to the tops of the daily rankings in both coursework and deployment. She took each and every one of their assignments seriously, even though most were simply low-risk delivery or reconnaissance missions.
Raelle greets her with a simple “Enjoying Newfoundland?” as she sits down in the snow by Raelle. She leans against the log with a sigh. Raelle pockets the knife and whetstone, opting instead to rest her head against her friend’s shoulder.
“It’s cold as hell,” Abigail snorts, and Raelle cracks a smile. “Pretty nice setup, though, I gotta say.”
She’s right. The army’s scouting camp, while mainly comprised of tents and stake fences, is surprisingly comfortable. Campfires and food supplies are well-maintained, and guard shifts are evenly distributed so that every soldier gets a full night’s sleep.
Raelle finds her fingers digging into the snow, crushing the little crystals between the pads of her fingers. They’re both thinking the same thing.
“You ready to ship out, Rae?”
Raelle bites her lip. “Anacostia said we might find Camarilla agents,” she replies quietly. “I mean, we’re going to scope out one of their old campsites, after all. Are we really ready to go back into an active combat zone?”
Abigail grimaces. “Technically, it’s not like that. We don’t know for sure if any Camarilla are still there. Plus, Quartermaine told us she’d send another soldier along for the ride; someone with more experience.”
Raelle sighs, shaking her head. She can’t shake the old memories from China, all chaos and fire and swords jutting through her shoulder and-
“Hey.” A reassuring arm wraps around her shoulder. Abigail smiles, and Raelle returns it weakly. “It’ll be alright. C’mon, we already shred in Vocal and in Hand-To-Hand. We’ll be fine! Bet you twenty dollars we won’t see a single person in that creepy old forest anyway.”
“No, you shred in Vocal and Hand-To-Hand.” Raelle cocks an eyebrow. “But I’d kick your ass in Scourge Combat and you know it.”
“Maybe so, Collar, maybe so.” They grin at each other for a moment, before Abigail pushes herself to her feet and offers a hand to Raelle. “C’mon, Tally said she wanted to tell us something.”
Raelle clasps her forearm, pulling herself up. “What does Tally know that we don’t?” She asks, voice laced with humor. “Biddy secrets?”
-----
“Guys!” Tally spots them right as they approach the infantry tents. Raelle raises two fingers in a half-greeting, but drops her hand when she sees the girl’s stern expression.
“Tal?” Abigail tilts her head as Tally skids to a stop in front of them. “What’s up?”
“Okay, I overheard Anacostia talking to another Sergeant and I just wanted to warn you because she’s coming soon to tell you and I wanted to pr-” She gestures wildly, words coming a mile a minute, and Raelle gently grabs her hands.
“Tally. Breathe.” Raelle holds her gaze for a few moments. Tally runs like a freight train when things are urgent. “Tell us what you wanted to say.”
“I-” Tally’s gaze flicks past Raelle, and her eyes widen. “Goddess protect, she’s coming.” She looks back fiercely. “Raelle, when you hear what she says, you can’t get mad, okay? Promise?”
“Bellweather Unit!”
The three jump in near unison and Raelle drops Tally’s hands to turn around and face the hardened voice. Anacostia walks like a model soldier - Chin held high, hands clasped behind her back. Each stride she takes is filled with purpose.
Raelle can feel something wrong, and that fear pricks at her skin like a hundred tiny blades. She frowns with her salute, but Anacostia nods for them to relax in a heartbeat.
“I have an update on your partner for this mission, ladies,” she says, and Raelle glances back at Tally questioningly. She can only shake her head, eyes wide. “I know things may be… Tense, for lack of a better word. However, I’ve talked it over with the other officers and they agree that she’s the best choice.”
Raelle searches her face, a cool mask that refuses to betray emotion. Anacostia looks to Raelle and holds her gaze. “We’ve chosen to send Private Ramshorn along with your Unit. She’ll be arriving shortly, and then you’ll deploy,” she says, and Raelle feels herself freeze.
Scylla Ramshorn. The girl she loved. The girl she still loves.
The girl she thought was gone forever.
The last time they spoke, Raelle told her she wished they’d never met. And now, here she was, about to venture out into a forest likely filled with witch-hunters with Scylla at her side. She’d heard she was alive, knew she was with the Spree cells that had agreed to work with the Army, but here? Now? Raelle shakes her head.
This is unavoidable.
Abigail bumps her shoulder, and she jumps back into the present. “Private Bellweather, Private Craven, you’re dismissed. Go pack. Private Collar, stay for a moment.”
Raelle feels Tally’s hand squeeze her shoulder and watches as the duo walks away. She looks to Anacostia, trying and failing to hide the fear and confusion in her eyes. The Sergeant inclines her head. “Let’s walk.”
-----
They thread slowly between camouflage-patterned tents and huddles of witches playing cards. Anacostia lets the silence grow between them until Raelle finally cracks, like a twig under a boot.
“Why Scylla? Out of every single person in this entire fucking camp.” Her voice feels rough, and dry, and angry. “You had to pick her.”
“Raelle.” Anacostia’s good at being comforting, far too much than Raelle would care to admit. “It’s okay if you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” she retorts. “I’m just- I’m nothing. It’ll be fine.”
Anacostia raises a single eyebrow, decimating Raelle’s claim instantly. “This mission will be hard for you, but think of it as a chance to mend things with Scylla. You won’t get anywhere by avoiding her.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get anywhere, Anacostia. Maybe there’s nowhere to get.”
Raelle crosses her arms, looking away, and Quartermaine sighs. “I know you’re angry. Just… Give her a chance. She’s trying, too.”
That was too gentle, too tender, and Raelle can’t bite back with anything scalding. Instead, she stays silent, holding her gaze away.
“…You’re dismissed, Private Collar.”
-----
The smell of pine hangs thick in the air as the party makes its way through the tundra. Tally clutches a compass in one hand, glancing up every so often at the trees. Raelle hangs back, closing her eyes and feeling the slight breeze nip at her ears. She adjusts her pack, a dull and constant weight against her shoulders. The light crunch of their boots in the snow is a calming, regular pattern that lulls her into a sense of peace.
This will be fine. They’ll clear the site, rest for the night, and be back before they know it.
“So, Necro,” she hears, and blinks her eyes open to see Abigail stepping in line with Scylla. “They teach you anything in that creepy old morgue back at Fort Salem?”
Raelle catches a small smirk teasing the corner of her mouth. “All sorts of things,” Scylla replies. “How to turn men into toads and square-dance with the Devil, mostly.” Her voice is coy, but not unkind, and Raelle knows how much Abigail loves a challenge.
“I’m just saying,” she counters, “they don’t usually bring Necros into the battlefield. How come Anacostia insisted you tag along?”
Scylla opens her mouth, but stays quiet for a moment. She was always careful with her words, Raelle thinks, never quite lying. Always telling half-truths. A sharp pang stabs her stomach, and she forces the thought away.
“Izadora’s working on a new type of battle magic,” she finally admits, and Abigail’s eyebrows raise slightly. “I signed up to be her guinea pig. If we happen upon any Camarilla during our adventure, maybe you’ll get to see.”
“Speaking of Camarilla.” Tally looks away from the compass and over to the duo. “I haven’t felt anything out of the ordinary. You guys think they’re actually here?”
“Bad intel, maybe?” Scylla taps a knuckle against her thumb. She glances back to Raelle for only a moment, and Raelle tears her eyes away. She can feel the sting of her gaze, but Raelle is nothing if not defiant, and she looks back to Tally instead.
“Wouldn’t be the first time Alder’s lied to us,” she says bitterly. A heavy layer of silence blankets the group then, and they trudge onwards through the forest. It had been months since Citydrop, but Raelle wasn’t sure if she’d ever forget that day. From the rev of the truck’s engine as it charged at the cadets, to the storm of metal and debris that followed, sweeping across them like hail and thunder. The stern, controlled voice of Anacostia, telling her to search for survivors, echoed in her mind.
Eliminate any Spree they encountered. Full stop, those were the orders that Sergeant Quartermaine had given.
Her boots pounded the grass as she spotted movement - A person, scrambling out of the burning wreck and sprinting off. Raelle chased, but her target was hurt, and they weren’t getting far. Raelle had only lost sight for a moment when she rounded the trail and saw her.
Scylla.
Her smile was sweet like honey and dripping with poison. Raelle has missed those eyes, deep and blue and everything she’d ever needed. Scylla was tender, and inviting, and for a moment Raelle was tempted to drop her Scourge in the dust and kiss her.
But it was impossible. It couldn’t be her, not in any world, and there’s something false in her gaze. Something calculating. Raelle shook her head, but Scylla opened her mouth to speak and-
“Hey, Raelle.”
Raelle flinches as if she’d been struck. Scylla shows her palms, almost instinctively. Her smile is all comfort and warmth and sends a myriad of feelings into Raelle’s heart. Raelle looks away. It’s so much, all at once. It’s too much.
Scylla swallows before trying again. Her fingers brush against Raelle’s bicep, a test of the waters. “What’s bothering you?” It’s as if she’s flipped a switch.
“Do you actually care?” Raelle snaps back, eyes blazing as she swats her hand away. “If I tell you, will that go in a report? Is your boss gonna use that information against me?”
“I just-” She feels a twinge of satisfaction when she sees the hurt that flashes in Scylla’s eyes, and she hates herself for it. Scylla pulls her hand away. “Of course I care,” she says quietly.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Scyl.” Raelle kicks a stray rock, watching it skitter across the snow. “Mission’s over, remember?”
She can feel Scylla’s stare and it burns. She can’t bring herself to meet her gaze. Eventually, the other woman quickens her pace, and Raelle is left alone. She steals a quick glance to Tally, who does her best to pretend that she’s not listening, and then to Abigail, who’s purely tuned into their surroundings.
Raelle sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. They’ll be back before they know it.