Archive of Our Own

It wasn’t her place. 

The only people who visited hospitals like this, with no other purpose, were friends and family. Lana hadn’t truly been either to anyone – not in a way that meant anything – in years.

Certainly not to Mia. Whatever they were, whatever they had been, it didn’t fall neatly into either category.

Whatever they were, Lana hadn’t been built for it. She certainly wasn’t now. So many other things should have held her attention, and she knew that any moment she could be called away. There was work to be done – always – and she simply didn’t have the luxury of living as if her life were her own.

As if she’d ever have had the opportunity to have shared it with another, even if she had been brave enough.

Still, her feet carried her on as if driven by some force other than the logic of her mind. Through liminal halls she walked, the sound of her own footsteps near deafening, yet slowing even as the numbers next to the doors she passed moved steadily upward towards that towards which she’d been directed.

Any moment before reaching the door – she didn’t truly need to look at the numbers to see it, now; only a few rooms away, it was open – she expected, perhaps hoped for, perhaps dreaded, something to impede her progress. To be interrupted – to have an excuse to leave, and for something outside of her own volition to be responsible.

But she reached the door unimpeded, and for several moments lingered just outside.

It wasn’t too late to turn around. But Lana, for everything else about her, wasn’t one to leave something half-finished once committed. She’d come this far, and to run now would do nothing to negate the fact that she’d come in the first place, and only increase the number of what ifs that had already begun to form in the back of her mind.

So she stepped inside, only to find that the light in the room was dim, and the figure in the bed before her appeared to be asleep.

Asleep – that was all. The monitors surrounding her proved that much.

In Lana’s experience, most people had described loved ones in the hospital as looking somehow smaller, all connected to tubes and wires and shrunken in their beds. That was how the story went – it was what she’d expected.

But Mia Fey had never managed in her life to appear small. In everything, even here on the other side of a brush with death, she was larger than life – captivating – unable to be ignored.

The wires, the monitors, the hospital gown, even the heavy layer of bandaging around her head. Not a bit of it detracted from the clear vibrance of the life that continued to cause her chest to rhythmically rise and fall. Life, all the stronger and more beautiful as if in defiance of all that had threatened to take it away.

Even now, even like this, she was able to affect Lana as if not a day had passed since the first time their hands had touched. A much simpler life, a much simpler world. . .

Her very presence, her very existence – continued, somehow, against what fade may have willed – bade Lana to move closer. Without thinking, she very well may have done so, had something else not nearly caused her to flee.

Namely, that Mia wasn’t alone.

A small figure was huddled across the side of her bed, not so much sitting in the chair beneath her as propped against it while her entire upper half rested on the bed. One of her hands was fisted in Mia’s blankets; the other reached for her hand. A single glance at her clothes, her hair, and the silhouette of her sleeping face was more than enough to discern her identity, and had she not clearly succumbed to exhaustion Lana her presence may indeed have inspired Lana to leave.

She hadn’t been prepared for any of this, but certainly not to face Mia’s sister.

When several moments past without any sound save for that which came from the machinery monitoring Mia’s condition, Lana found herself moving forward once more. One step, then another, until she drew closer to a chair on the opposite side where Mia’s sister slept, then slowly lowered herself down to sit lightly on its edge.

Just for a moment . . .

Mia was alive – seeing her like this proved that. That should have been enough to satisfy her, but nevertheless Lana lingered, finding it difficult even to bear the thought of turning away now that she’d arrived once more to the presence of Mia’s gravity, something she’d always tried so hard and often failed to resist.

She couldn’t have said how many more “just one more moment”s passed as she traced the shadows cast by Mia’s eyelashes on her cheeks. The parting of chapped lips, the flush of her skin . . .

She couldn’t have said what it was that caused her to reach out with a shaking hand and trace, gentle as the touch of a feather, down the side of the sleeping woman’s cheek.

For a few more moments, her touch lingered as she treasured the warmth and softness of her skin.

How many of those minutes passed before Mia’s eyes opened, and how many passed after, she couldn’t have said. By the time Lana noticed, they were already fixed upon her face.

“Hey, stranger. . .” before she’d managed to construct an explanation, a protest, or much of anything at all, Mia’s gravelly voice met her ears. Exhaustion only caused her eyes to shine brighter, or at least so it appeared, and her lips twisted in a weak but brilliant approximation of a smile as she attempted to tease.

As if burned, Lana drew her hand back to her chest. “I . . .” she began, then fell silent, lips pressed together. There was no explanation, no excuse for anything she’d done, and to pretend otherwise would have been an injustice. “. . . I . . . heard what happened,” she finally finished in as calm a murmur as she could manage, voice far more composed than she would have thought possible.

Mia’s smile had faded. Too weak to raise her head from the pillow, still, or else in too much pain, she turned her head slowly away. Not to avoid Lana’s gaze, but to look towards the still sleeping girl at her side and raise a hand to rest gently upon her head. “I’m not surprised. It seems like people keep doing that . . .” she mumbled while beginning to absentmindedly stroke her sister’s hair. “Didn’t realize it was enough to earn a visit from you. I guess I should be honored.”

Something sharp ran through Lana’s chest. Mia was overwhelming enough as a memory, as a vision, and to have her breathing and speaking before her was nearly too much. “. . .I . . .” once more, she faltered before finding words, and looked down to her hands where they were folded in her lap. “. . .Know that it’s been a while.”

Mia’s eyes had shut once more. Aura of radiant calm or not, a crease between her brows and shaking intake of breath betrayed her pain. Not for the first time, Lana questioned why she’d come at all – to disturb her from rest hadn’t done any good, and now it was too late to leave without being noticed. Lana had nothing of importance to say, no reason to intrude, no –

“. . .Sorry to worry you. Didn’t realize you could still feel that.”

A few moments after the words first began to hang heavy in the air, Mia let out a breath and blinked her eyes open. “I didn’t mean – I just . . . didn’t expect to see you here.”

Though her hands had clenched into tight fists, her gaze turned firmly towards the ground, and the daggers in her chest pierced deeper, Lana hadn’t actually managed to be offended. Mia hadn’t spoken anything other than the truth. “I didn’t realize I could, either,” she finally managed to say, and the sound of her own voice surprised her. “I didn’t expect to visit. I don’t know . . .”

Something at the edge of her vision caught her attention, and she looked up enough to see Mia’s hand where it gently patted the bed at her side. “If almost getting murdered is what it takes to get your attention, I guess I can’t be that upset about it.” A weak laugh belied her, and when Lana met her gaze once more Mia’s own was unfocused. “Damn, I’m dizzy . . . you’re gonna have to help me out here. . . can’t exactly do much to reach you on my own.”

Slowly, her movements hindered by a reservation so thoroughly practiced it was painful to resist, Lana forced a hand away from her lap and reached for Mia’s where it lay open on the bed. Immediately, those soft fingers closed around hers, their grip weak, but succeeding in keeping her trapped.

“Why . . .?” As always, it was this question that found its way to Lana’s lips.

Mia only shrugged in response, an action which caused her to wince. “I don’t really have a lot of reason to hold back, right now,” she mumbled out, “and I have to take what I can get from you when I can. Before you disappear on me again and I wake up thinking you were a dream.”

Don’t go . . .

How many times had Mia asked her that, or at least insisted that she didn’t have to? How many times had Lana refused?

“I can’t –” emotion breaking through the practiced monotone of her voice, Lana cut herself off and bit her lip. She could feel her hand, now holding tightly to Mia’s, begin to shake. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“But you are. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Always so confident, there was something there at the end of Mia’s tone. Something that shouldn’t have been there – something fragile, something pleading. Something that Lana had never heard before.

Her eyes, when she met them, were wet.

“You’ve got other people to worry about . . .” Looking away, Lana nodded towards the sleeping girl, who had stirred only once before mumbling something beneath her breath and drifting off once more.

“And I will. Maya’s got enough to think about without me becoming another thing on her shoulders,” Mia replied. “I’ll be strong for her. Just like you do for Ema.”

Lana couldn’t suppress a wince of her own, and pressed her lips together while looking off to the side.

“I know. Believe me. . .” the words nearly caused Lana to panic, a feeling which inexplicably began to transform into relief, before she realized Mia had only been speaking generally. “. . . Whatever it is, I get it. I know what it’s like to have to be the big sister, and to have to focus every minute of the day to do your job. Whatever it is that’s made all of that so hard for you . . .”

Nearly imperceptibly, Mia’s grip on her hand held tighter. “. . . Whatever it is that’s kept you away from me. . . we’ll figure it out. I just want you with me, now.”

Perhaps it was medication that caused her to speak so freely, or else the blow to her head had done something more. Regardless, the tear that slipped from the corner of Mia’s eye broke something in Lana’s resolve, and she couldn’t refrain from moving instantly forward to brush it away with a thumb.

Leaning gently into the touch, Mia smiled. “. . . You know, it’s nice to be worried about . . . by someone who won’t be frightened. . .”

Did she not know? How frightened Lana was? Even down to her very bones, she was terrified.

But Mia was correct. For it wasn’t Mia’s weakness that frightened her, but Lana’s own, and the manner in which the vulnerability being so freely offered to her craved company.

“. . . You did worry me,” she finally managed to admit, her voice so soft and honest she could have sworn it belonged to a stranger. “But that . . . doesn’t matter. Not when I’m so glad that you’re . . .”

Her breath hitched and then, before she could process the emotion that accompanied, Lana found herself smiling. “. . . I haven’t been glad about anything in so long . . . but when I heard that you were alright . . .”

It said nothing of the terror and numbness that had come when she’d heard Mia had been attacked. But as she’d said, that didn’t matter –

Not when faced with joy, bright as the morning sunrise through darkness, that Mia was alive.

“Lana – please –” voice cracking as her voice turned pleading, Mia tried in vain to raise her head from the pillow, only to let out a quiet cry – quickly muffled in an effort not to wake her sister – and quickly fall back down.

Just as always, Lana hesitated. It was impossible not to – too many years had passed since she’d last done anything she hadn’t first done anything on pure impulse. Lana hesitated –

But she didn’t refuse.

Gently, but with a desperation so tangible it could nearly be tasted, she pressed her lips to Mia’s. The kiss, dry yet tear-streaked, was more binding than any signature on the most official papers.

When it ended, she didn’t pull away, instead pressing a hand to the side of Mia’s face, careful to avoid where she was injured. “I . . . don’t want to disturb her,” she whispered, sending a guilty glance in Maya’s direction. One of Mia’s hands still rested on the girl’s shoulders.

“She’s alright. You . . . should meet her, you know,” Mia insisted hopefully. The light in her eyes hadn’t so much as dimmed.

Lana swallowed. To be allowed, not only along the outskirts but completely into Mia’s life, was a thought that was too good to be true, from a world and future that wasn’t her own. “. . . Maybe,” she replied, then made a decision that caused her heart to leap into her throat. “We . . . need to talk. When you’re better. I’ll tell you everything. But you have to get better.”

A bitter decision, and one she was certain would end in some sort of pain. But if there were a single person on the planet who could bear the burden with her – any person at all who could bring some sort of light into her darkness without the threat of everything burning down –

Mia Fey smiled, then closed her eyes and let out a relieved breath while sinking down into her pillows. “. . . Promise,” she said, then gave Lana’s hand a squeeze. “But you can’t go. Not like you usually do. . . not forever . . . not completely . . . I can’t make you, but . . . I want . . . you to stay with me.”

For the first time in their lives, for better or for worse, Lana did.