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There was so much that Yasha loved about the tower. It was a home, a place to breathe, a manifestation of affection for each of them and of the bonds that made them the team they were. Every facet had been planned with love and attention to detail, which were the same thing to someone like Caleb Widogast.
Yasha's room was no exception. The mural brought from her room in the Xhorhaus - the same mural she had cried at seeing when she returned home after Obann, the mural she had expected to find painted over - meant more to her than she could ever find the words to express. It was the demonstration of Yasha's place in the Nein and, though none of them knew it, a kind of bridge between her old family of one and her new family.
But the room was also big, and so very quiet.
Yasha was a selectively heavy sleeper - a keen sense of shifts in atmosphere woke her where sound, light, or friendly touch might only elicit a grunt or an annoyed swat. She had grown up sleeping in piles, found measureless comfort in the people she loved gathered close where she could watch over them.
She felt secure in the tower, but she also felt a little lost within her own space.
A shift in the atmosphere was what woke her the second before Beau knocked. And it had to be Beau, or Beau and Caleb, because it was the middle of the night and if it were trouble with Lucien, the knock wouldn't have been anything she might have described as timid.
She called "come in," and pushed to her feet to open the first of the three doors so that they would meet in the middle at the second. It pushed open slowly to reveal Beau, who was in fact alone.
Alone, and visibly trembling in her breast band and undershorts.
The lights had turned on of their own will or one of theirs, and Beau's wide eyes were clearly ringed red as she looked up helplessly at Yasha. "I had a dream," she managed. "I don't know if. If I -" Her voice cracked, and she didn't try again to explain. She didn't need to.
A day ago, Yasha would have at least hesitated. Played it safe, been the neutralizing calm to Beau's fear. But less than eight hours ago Beau had kissed her, and Yasha had kissed her back, and she was in this too deep now to pretend she was anything other than desperate to ease this somehow.
When Yasha's arms went around Beau and lifted, her legs immediately wrapped around Yasha's waist and her head buried against her shoulder. She clung to Yasha like a lifeline, heaving in harsh sips of air.
Yasha carried her into the bedroom and pushed the door closed with her foot, and then she just stood still - held Beau close and felt her rapid heart hammering against her own. When Beau's breathing had evened out somewhat, Yasha eased her down to stand by the bed, hands on her shaking shoulders. It hurt so much to see her broken open like this, but nowhere near as much as the thought of her suffering it quietly by herself. Could it have only been a few short hours ago that they had stood just this way, grinning at each other in soft disbelief at the moment of happiness they had snatched from despair?
Yasha lifted a hand to brush a strand of Beau's hair back behind her ear and asked the terrible question haunting them. "Did you find a new one?"
Beau shook her head miserably, but Yasha knew better than to exhale. "It could've just been a nightmare, but I…I didn't want to be alone if it wasn't."
There was an unspoken request hanging at the end of that confession, and Yasha knew they could stand here until dawn and Beau wouldn't make it. It had likely taken a mix of adrenaline and fear to even get her here to Yasha, but she had come the same distance she always had: as far as she could. This was further than Beau had ever made it, and under the concern brewing in Yasha was a streak of pride as small and as fierce as Beau herself.
Yasha shifted one hand to cup Beau's jaw and ran a thumb gently over her skin. "I can look for you," she said softly. "If you want."
Beau's eyes glistened in the light as she turned her sweat-bright cheek into Yasha's hand and nodded. Her hand drifted to the back of her neck. "In the dream…"
Yasha leaned forward and pressed her lips to Beau's forehead. "Okay." A shiver ran through Beau, and her eyes when Yasha pulled away looked at her like Yasha was the moon come down from the night to visit her, like Beau wasn't certain of what to do but determined to hold on with everything in her.
Not long ago, it would have frightened Yasha to be the focus of Beau's ferocious and complicated heart. Not long ago, she might have run from the weight of that faith in her. But there was nothing in Beau's eyes now that made Yasha want to flee. Yasha was contemplating the vastness of the ocean and wading intentionally into its depths.
"Show me."
Beau's shuddering hand drifted to expose the faint shimmer of the tattoo as she turned, and Yasha followed the slide of Beau's hair as she swept it gently over a bare shoulder. Once she looked, they would be on one of two paths. There would be no unknowing, only the two of them staring down fate hand in hand.
And that was true no matter the path, so Yasha took a deep and silent inhale and turned her eyes to Beau's skin.
The all-seeing eye stared at her from the center of the sprawling work of art covering Beau's neck and her upper back, placid and achingly familiar - and innocently, brazenly green. The dread in Yasha that dissolved into relief pulled together again in a kind of loose fist of sorrow as she took in several fresh, raised scratch marks glaring at her from between the whorls and lines of the image. Beau had been so afraid.
"It's alright," Yasha murmured gently. "There's just you." She reached to slip her fingers in between those of Beau's free hand and lifted them to hold her close.
Beau swallowed. "You're sure?" Yasha's heart cracked at the uncertainty in her voice. It wasn't doubt in Yasha, but a second layer of reassurance that Beau's brilliant mind required in order to quiet and let her breathe. That she was asking for it from Yasha made fierce, affectionate protectiveness swell inside of her. If the power to ease Beau's mind was in her hands, she could do nothing else but grant it so long as she drew breath.
Yasha brushed the thumb of the hand resting on Beau's shoulder over the angry marks and then, on impulse, bent her head to chase her touch with her lips. "Absolutely," she said, and it was a benediction.
Beau's skin prickled in the light as she exhaled shakily and leaned, pressing into Yasha until their bodies were flush. Yasha tenderly kissed each of those raised and angry lines, moving to her jaw when Beau's hand slid to her shoulder to cover Yasha's.
Yasha's cheek brushed Beau's and came away damp, and Yasha turned her head to kiss the tears away. "It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay." Gradually, Beau's trembling dissipated until finally, her body rested relaxed and spent in Yasha's arms.
Beau's voice was small when it came, as timid as her knock and just as momentous. "Can I stay with you?"
Bringing herself to Yasha's room had been as far as Beau was able to go, and that meant the hesitant question spilling like light across the air now was something new. The way forward had truly begun.
Yasha smiled and offered a quiet, aching gift in return. "I don't want you anywhere else," she said softly. "Just here, with me, wherever we are."
Beau shuffled around to stare up at Yasha. The fear that had been in those eyes before was gone now, replaced by a solemn and steady comprehension. "Okay."
The bed was large and smelled faintly of flowers, and the blankets Yasha pulled around them had a quality to them that reminded her of old furs and spark-spewing campfires against starry skies. She'd tried to sleep here, that first night, but all of the memories it had invoked served only to make Yasha feel a terrible and vast longing.
But this time...Yasha watched Beau sleeping peacefully against her chest, their legs tangled and their breathing synced, and thought she knew for the first time what it meant to be truly home.