Work Text:
Tally was lying on the operating table, hands and feet bound, when it happened the first time.
“When we get your vocal cords,” the so-called surgeon said as he held his scalpel over her throat, “we’ll be sure to tell your witch bitch leader you said hello.”
She had spat at him, too angry for words. The Camarilla didn’t deserve her words. They were going to cut out her fucking vocal cords. They could choke on her silence.
Tally had struggled at the restraints to no avail. She was trapped. And she was about to die. She would never understand Alder’s past at this rate. She would never understand how to sever her connection to her. She would never-
It was then that Alder came for her. Well, the first time.
She could hear her Work, precise and cutting, before she even saw her superior. Whatever her problems with Alder, she never doubted her talent as a witch. Being of the blood and having lived for so long, her song was honed into a weapon of mass destruction. Goddess, Alder was mass destruction.
In that moment, she felt a whole array of emotions: anger, fear, relief, even hope. Yes, even hope. She was going to live.
The surgeon alerted the guards.
And the guards were sent flying to the other end of the room. Alder turned her glare to the surgeon.
However, he was already cutting into her neck.
Tally woke up.
She was lying on the operating table, again. She felt bleary from the drugs, as she had before, but this felt different. This felt new, and she couldn’t put her finger on why. It was new but all too familiar, and it unsettled her. It was the same location. Even her hands and feet being bound was the same.
She tried the restraints, again to no avail. Well, no one could blame her for trying.
Tally looked up, seeing the surgeon’s face as he looked down at her with glee.
He held up his scalpel and started lowering the blade. “When we get your vocal cords,” he said, “we’ll be sure to tell your witch bitch leader you said hello.”
She frowned. She swore she had been through this before. It must have been her Sight, giving her a look into how this could go. “Somehow, I doubt that’ll happen,” she told him.
He frowned. “What do you mean? It’s not as though your people will find us.”
She blinked. “Uh… nothing. Yes. Sure.”
Maybe saying that wasn’t the best idea.
“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” he muttered. He set down the scalpel and took out his walky-talky. He turned away from her. “Guys, the target let slip that there’s people coming, they might even know our loca-”
Just in time, she heard Alder’s Work. A corner of Tally’s mouth turned up into a half-smile. She was saved.
Her vision was right. Alder was saving her despite everything, and, with him distracted with the device, he wasn’t going to take her cords. His scalpel wasn’t even in his hand as he alerted the guards once more.
As the guards hit the wall, she watched her advance on the terrified surgeon.
But then, he fumbled for his gun.
Stupid, a gun wouldn’t stop General Alder.
But then, he shot her.
Tally’s breath held out in the shock.
“Craven, I…” The voice came out a croak, rough and gravelly.
Tally’s eyes widened. The blood pooled at her wound, and the great figure of Sarah Alder stumbled to the floor, clutching at where she’d shot. “No!” Tally screamed. The grief tore through her, not like anything she had ever experienced before.
However, this was no time for grief.
His scalpel was in his hand, and, now, it was on her throat.
Tally’s eyes opened, with her gasping for air.
But here she was again. Same place. Same surgeon. Same bindings. Her brow furrowed as the realization washed over her. She was repeating the same event, over and over. She woke up, Alder tried to save her, then Tally’s throat was cut. The implications of this confused her.
Did she accidentally implement a Work in her sleep?
She had never heard of anything like this, not in her wildest dreams.
She wasn’t even sure if it was possible. However, she had to know by now that almost anything was possible with Work. All it took was a talented witch to see it through. Still, as powerful as she felt at times, she wasn’t so sure that she herself could pull off something this big.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the surgeon again.
“When we take your vocal cords,” he chirped, his voice cheerful, “we’ll be sure to tell your witch bitch leader you said hi.”
She swallowed and said nothing, too afraid that whatever she said would interfere. She had to find a way out of this, with both herself and Alder alive.
As awful as Alder was, she couldn’t bear letting her die like that. The memory of her death rang loud and clear in her mind, a bell that reverberated its metallic clang throughout her body. It was a reminder. It was a turning point. Her turning point. She was going to get the better of this.
When she heard Alder’s Work, she shouted, “Alder, get the scalpel out of his hand! And the gun!”
Her eyes and Alder’s eyes met, the intensity of her gaze sending shivers down Tally’s spine.
The Work mirrored her intensity, scalpel and gun ripping through the man’s clothes and grasp and colliding with the floor. With her distracted, the guards immediately called for back-up. They all poured into the room with purpose, all dressed in what looked like military-grade armor.
As they surrounded her, Tally gasped out Alder’s name.
Alder tried to use her Work once more, but a high-pitched ringing filled the room, a frequency that seemed to block her Work. It made Tally’s eyes water and sting. They pushed her to her knees. She hated watching her leader struggle like this, no matter what acts she committed.
Just as Tally opened her mouth once more, a gunshot rang out. Another clang of the bell.
And Alder crumbled onto the floor.
So Tally woke up again. And again. And again.
She counted them at first. It was twelve. No, nine. Fifteen? But she found that time meant nothing in the face of seeing Alder fail to save her over and over again. She wondered if she was even forgetting basic things like counting. And struggling. And saying anything other than, “Alder,” “no,” and “gun.”
No matter what she tried, it always ended the same. Alder would die. Or Tally would be about to die. Then, the loop would repeat from the beginning. The familiarity of it was at first maddening, but she grew to almost be accustomed to it. It was an old friend, taking her by the hand and telling her it was going to be okay. She would die. It would end. Then, she would live once more.
But even so, she thought there were differences, in the loops. Little things that changed, even if she laid there and did and said nothing. Sometimes, Alder would look at her. Sometimes, she didn’t. Sometimes, what the surgeon said would be phrased differently. Even, occasionally, the restraints felt different, like they were metal at one point and cloth another.
She didn’t know what to make of that.
Her next loop, she welcomed as another opportunity to get out.
Because this time she would make it, and, if she didn’t, she would have yet another chance the next.
The lighting was a little different. Warmer.
Good, since she thought the lighting of the previous loops was giving her a migraine.
She looked up, as the man spoke again of her vocal cords being cut. It once filled her with righteous anger, but, now, it was just noise. She pulled on the cloth bindings around her wrists, as a reflex.
This time, she decided this time she would engage the man in conversation.
“What else will you do with them?” She asked.
His head turned towards her, his expression turning to one of confusion. “Well, uh… Cut out the cancer of witchkind, I guess?”
“With that scalpel?” She joked. “It can cut through skin, but I don’t think it’s that sharp.”
“I have a lot of even sharper blades, kid,” he replied defensively.
“Oh? Why don’t you show me?” She challenged.
He set down his scalpel onto the table where she lay. And she wondered how he could be such a moron. Her fingers stretched out, feeling for the scalpel. Its edge caught on her fingertip, and she weirdly felt only a small sting before it faded.
He held up a larger knife and showed it off to her. “See, this, this is a real weapon. Not like that unnatural wailing your kind does.”
Finally, she grasped the scalpel. She smiled as she angled the scalpel’s blade against her bindings and started sawing through. “Do you have-”
Just then, she heard Alder’s Work.
He seemed to hear it as well, since he turned his head to look around.
“Do you have other weapons I can look at?” She asked, trying to get his attention back. “Others that are uh… superior to our Work?”
He frowned, turning back to Tally. “Uh, sure, let me just-”
Alder came up behind him, and Craven breathed, quickly trying to get through her bindings. Just as he held up his gun, Alder knocked it out of his hand. He gasped, turning to face her.
Her hand was free, she realized with a choked laugh. Her free hand went to undo the binding on her other wrist.
He tried to swipe at Alder, but she quickly dodged his strike. Alder threw a punch, and he immediately went down, much to Tally’s satisfaction. As he clattered to the floor, she managed to undo one of the bindings at her ankles.
“Alder,” Craven panted, looking to her, “you… you saved me. Finally.”
Finally, she was alive. Tally was alive. They were both alive.
When the last binding was loose, Tally leapt up into a sitting position on the table, facing Alder as her superior took a step closer. Then, another. Then, as Tally breathed heavily, yet another.
“Craven,” she whispered, reaching out a hand. The fingertips brushed against the side of Tally’s face ever so gently.
Tally licked her lower lip.
She leaned in, her face coming so close to Tally’s own. Tally drank in the sight of Alder’s eyes filling with desire as she went ever closer. Her lips ever so gently touched Tally’s own, and Tally felt shock pour through every inch of her. Too shocked to move her lips against Alder’s, that was for sure.
When Alder leaned back, Tally searched her face for a certain something. Regret? Shame? Lust?
“Craven,” she whispered again, “I lo-”
Her mouth parted wide with a gasp as she tried again. “I lo-”
Blood dripped down from Alder’s full lips.
“N-no,” Tally breathed, “not again!”
She looked past Alder to see the surgeon, ripping out the knife from Alder’s back.
Another clang of the bell.
So Tally gave up.
As she mindlessly awoke from the last go around, she felt dread fill her. She was trapped here in her own personal hell, forever. She was doomed to just watch Alder die. Or else die herself. It was useless to struggle. She didn’t even tug at her bindings this time, not like she had the previous loops. What would even be the point?
She let out a sob, as the surgeon started speaking. He continued on without even a stumble in his words.
Tears rolled down her face. They broke her. This Work broke her.
Her gaze didn’t even move from the ceiling as Alder’s Work filled the room. Even as she stormed in and the surgeon called the guards, she didn’t shift from her stance. She would do nothing. It would just be another clang of the same old bell. Alder would perish, or Tally would perish.
However, what she heard was a little different.
“Craven, listen to me! This isn’t real,” Alder called out, desperation in her voice.
Tally frowned. That wasn’t the usual scene.
“This is a Working,” Alder said. “The Spree’s work. You need to break free of this.”
Tally looked to her, watching her fight off the guards as she spoke to her.
“Use your Work, your voice,” Alder told her, grabbing hold of the surgeon that would cut into her throat.
“You don’t think I’ve tried that?” She snapped, tears stinging her eyes. “It won’t do anything.”
The surgeon struggled in Alder’s arms, and Alder’s heart seized at the sight of it. Even if this apparently wasn’t real. “Did you actually try it, or did she make you think you’ve tried it?”
Tally’s eyelids fell, her mouth twisting in confusion as she considered it. “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Try anyway, Tally,” Alder said. “This spell functions by demoralizing you. Making you think all is lost.”
Her eyes popped wide open. She called her Tally.
“Okay,” Tally murmured with a nod, and she parted to lips to create a Work.
The room filled with light, and, as the Work progressed, one by one of the guards disappeared into bursts of dust. She watched as each was rendered to nothing. Finally, the surgeon followed. The bindings disappeared, and Tally felt as though a great weight was lifted from her shoulders. She sat up and started to move her mouth to thank her.
However, instead, she woke up.
When Alder finally called Tally in to speak with her, Tally was all jitters and nerves.
She didn’t know how to sort through her experience. Every so often, she would hear a loud noise or a gasp and expect to be dragged back into another loop. And Alder, every so often she felt a keen awareness that Alder was alive and that soon she would not be. It made her on edge. Sometimes, she wondered if all would be better if her superior was dead, given her past actions.
But other times, she remembered her lips on hers and felt like it was a betrayal.
Still, as Alder said, it wasn’t real. Maybe even her feelings were another construct of Nicte Batan.
As she entered the room, her hands clasped behind her back and her back straight, she settled her mouth into a thin straight line.
“General Alder,” she greeted.
“Craven,” Alder said, and her eyes seemed to soften. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she said, “now that I've been rescued.” Then, she paused and said, “no, not really.”
“As I understand it, Batan made you experience your capture over and over again,” Alder said.
Tally nodded. “It was… horrific.”
“Just remember, none of it was real,” Alder told her gently. “Even if it felt real as it happened.”
“So we didn’t…” She blinked back tears. She felt foolish. What reason did she have to feel upset? She was saved. Hooray. Bring on the champagne.
She left her desk, taking a few steps towards her. “We didn’t what?”
Tally gathered her courage and said, “kiss.” Because fortune favored the bold, right?
She watched Alder’s jaw work with that knowledge, tensing then relaxing. She seemed to avoid meeting Tally’s gaze. “No, we did not. It would be… inappropriate.”
Tally took a step forward. “And you didn’t call me, “Tally.””
Alder’s mouth twitched. She hesitated before answering with, “I did.”
Feeling perhaps even bolder, she took one more step, so they were a foot apart. She looked up at her, her eyes feeling wet. Her voice went soft and fragile. “Will you call me “Tally” now?”
She reached out a hand and watched as Alder’s eyes widened in surprise. “Please?”
“Alright,” she said, “Tally.”
Her hand touched Alder’s face, and, just as Alder closed her eyes, Tally found herself smiling, ever so slightly.
Tally was not planning to be appropriate with General Alder.