Work Text:
Battle.
The ebb and flow of it was familiar; a feeling that washed over Rain not unlike stepping out from the cold indoors into the summer heat. Every action and sensation was bright and dazzling and electric, and all she could do was move along with it. Lift her sword. Bring it down. Let magic crackle along her blade. Deep injuries were no more than faded throbs and stings as her attention was focused ever on the next attack. Around her, her party was fighting; magic split the air. Their enemy stood on the other side of a portal; hazy, shimmering, and commanded a deluge of water that swept across the battlefield like the bursting of a dam. Rain held her ground.
Others didn’t.
Morgen—Morgen was pulled in, past Rain, towards the portal, almost swept inside—and Rain’s focus shifted.
The blinding light of battle narrowed into a cold lance of fear—and Rain dashed forwards—
—through sloshing water—
—to grasp the nymph and pull her back, away, to safety, away from water, dark and cold and wretched.
Rain breathed. She set Morgen on her feet, satisfied that she was out of range—and she’d be safe; Morgan was incredible, a whirlwind of a warlock, she’d be fine right here by Rain—
—and then—
—she wasn’t.
Morgen.
Ran.
Back.
Into the water.
Straight through the portal.
Though Rain had only just pulled her back—!
And she moved again, as around her the others gathered near—as Myeline wrenched herself back through the portal to their side—and the portal—shrunk.
It was closing.
Closing.
But Morgen was still there, and Rain was running—running—reaching out her hand—stretching into the portal herself.
Small fingers closed around Rain’s, and Rain pulled back with everything she had, against the drag of water and Morgen’s weight, and the rapid shrinking of the portal—
And.
The. Weight…
….Vanished.
Rain fell backwards into the mud, and for a moment she didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand.
Morgen’s hand was in hers. Their fingers still wrapped around each other.
And. It was. Only her hand.
Her hand. Small. Warm fingers. Skin she knew better than her own. Only.
Only.
Her hand.
Her hand, and this wasn’t right. It wasn’t possible.
Rain’s fingers were slowly staining red.
Why…?
Rain blinked, and then she gagged. This was the feeling of a lance shoved into your stomach; the feeling of being crushed to paste under the falling of a boulder; the feeling of being struck by lighting and then left smouldering. In the dirt. On the ground. And the blood.
Morgen’s blood was trickling through Rain’s fur, diluted by the water.
She was gone.
Rain had lost her.
She'd held her hand and she’d lost her and all that was left was a hand, a hand, a hand ahandahandAHANDAHAND.
Rain’s body lost what little strength it had. It shuddered down into the mud.
Mud, cold on her face in her fur; blood, fingers, warm and cooling clutched against her chest.
…And Morgen was dead.
Morgen didn’t breathe underwater.
Morgen was small, and a wound like this bled.
Rain turned her face into the muddy water and blinked against the sting. She wanted….she couldn’t….there was nothing.
She should push further down into the mud, surely. She should bury herself into it until there was nothing left uncovered, until it seeped into every part of her, clogging her eyes and ears and lungs. She wanted….
She sobbed.
She couldn’t.
But she wanted.
Maybe it would be okay…to put her own wants first.
Soon.
She had to…her son…but how…
She couldn’t do this.
Rain couldn’t do this anymore.
There was a buzzing in her ears, like voices, ringing. It ached. Rain wished that she were dead. She’d said…she’d said that she would stay with Morgen for as long as it was possible. She’d asked to go with her. She’d promised…but a promise couldn’t hurt, if you were already dead.
…And that was really the point.
There was a warm touch on Rain’s shoulder, and she breathed.
She breathed.
She breathed.
Rain would find her son.
She’d take him home.
He’d be with family; friends.
And Rain would…walk. Out into the ocean near their city. She’d be selfish, she’d let herself be selfish just this once, once her son was home. She was tired. She was done.
A warm touch; a word, and Rain looked up, into the face of a friend. Words were spoken, and Rain didn’t comprehend—
Morgen was dead.
Some things were impossible to fix—But.
But.
Magic.
Magic and deals and dangerous things, and Rain was sobbing openly, as denials tore themselves out her throat.
They asked.
They asked, and Rain said no, she couldn’t—she couldn’t—NO.
Morgen had given Rain her name. Her true name. Even if she was gone, Rain couldn't betray that. It was…too precious. She was too precious. Rain couldn’t…couldn’t….give….
She handed over Morgen’s name. She held out bloody hands, and her friend took Morgen’s hand from hers.
She couldn’t….
There was a flash of light where the portal had been, and Rain was at the side of the small figure on the ground before she’d even known she was running.
Morgen.
Here.
Rain reached out—
And she was dead.
Anyways.
After.
Cold.
Still.
Unmoving.
Limp and wet and cold and small, and Rain was screaming, everything in her was screaming—and magic was burning at her fingertips as she called on every ounce of it that she had.
Healing,
healing,
all her strength,
and Morgen still wasn’t breathing.
Rain was wailing; she was gone. Gone. Cold washed through her body; surely she must be drowning too. That was why she couldn’t breathe. That was why….
Morgen….
coughed,
and Rain came back to life with her.
She heaved and choked up water, and Rain’s hands held her steady, held her, held her—oh god.
She wept. Everything else was a stumbling babble of words, nearly incoherent as she held her. Warm. Breathing.
Rain had lighting clawing at the inside of her chest, and she was holding Morgen like she’d never been gone. The world went bright and hazy, a foggy summer morning where the light sparked off the mist, and she was on her feet. Morgen was in her arms. Scenery moved by them, and Rain didn’t know—she didn’t—she couldn’t. The only thing that mattered was the woman in her arms.
Warm.
Real.
Alive.
Missing a hand…Rain’s fault—all her fault—always her fault how could she how could this have happened had it only been last night that those hands had been so gentle in her fur—NO.
Rain breathed. She walked. She held Morgen in her arms. She couldn’t….
She wouldn’t….
She sat down. Around her, her friends were moving; they were somewhere familiar; a place that registered distantly as safe.
Rain sat down in the grass with her back against a tree and stared down at Morgen’s sleeping face.
It hurt.
Rain wanted to claw the heart right out of her chest. She couldn’t…..
She cried.
The tears washed tracts through the mud clumped in her fur. They fell, muddy, tainted, down onto Morgen’s chest.
Rain held her. She held….
She ached.
She wanted…she still wanted….
She told herself she had all that she wanted. That things were now okay. That Morgen….
Morgen….
But Morgen would still die soon.
Rain keened, and sobbed in earnest. People moved around her. She didn’t see in any more than blurs.
Rain couldn’t do this. She can’t do this again. She won’t.
….broken promises can’t hurt you if you’re already dead. She can’t do this again.