Work Text:
Nat is on a walk. She's been walking a lot, since she's been at the compound. She's not drinking, so she needs something to do other than treatment. Amazing how much time getting wasted takes out of the day.
Plus, now that she's not drinking, walking involves a lot less stumbling. Which is good.
A lot has been good, since she's been here. She's trying to trust the process, embrace the healing, but honestly a part of her is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She catches the impulse to self doubt, recognizing it like Lisa told her about. She takes a deep breath of the night air. That helps.
She makes a slow loop around the grounds, and the sun is going down for real now, darkening the sky until she can see stars. And then as she walks along the forest path, she sees someone's lit a fire in the pit. A singular person sitting there, poking it with a stick.
Walking toward it, she finds herself wondering if it's Misty, but as she gets closer, she sees red hair.
Even though she’s been here all day, it’s still so crazy to see her.
"Van," Nat says in greeting, approaching the enclosure.
The woman looks up, her eyes tired but smile warm. “Heeyy,” Van drawls. “Pull up a cult rock.”
Nat snorts. “You can just call it a rock.”
“Eh, I bet this rock participates in meditation circles,” says Van. “Surprised it’s not wearing purple.”
Nat smiles. Van has changed in some ways - they all have, but at least she’s still a smart ass.
The light is disappearing from the horizon now - the tops of the trees edging into shadow. Natalie takes another deep breath, and smells the campfire, the cooling air, the dirt. She listens, and hears nothing but the crackling of the fire, and the soft sound of crickets.
She steps forward into the fire pit. "So," she says, sitting down. "How are you?"
For some reason, this question extracts a laugh from Van - a kind of weird, hollow laugh, with some strange connotation obviously Nat isn't privy to. She frowns.
"Peachy," Van says flatly. And she sees Natalie's confused face, and waves a hand airily. "I mean, look, I'm here at this weird forest cult reliving my biggest traumas. It's a lot."
Nat can't deny that it is a lot.
It was a big shock, to see her, when she and Tai showed up earlier today. It had felt - surreal, almost. Like she was dreaming, and they were back in that cabin in the wilderness, and nothing had changed.
A shiver runs down her back.
Van sees that, and makes a sympathetic face. “Just started the fire. It’ll heat up more soon.”
Nat nods. “So, do you have a room yet?”
Van rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, I’m in the Serenity wing.” She snorts. “Feeling more serene every minute.”
“Hah hah,” says Nat dryly. “You know, it might not hurt to give this place a bit of a chance.” She shrugs. “Helped me.”
Van looks like she is trying to suppress looking incredulous. “Yeah - sure. You’ll understand if I treat this place with a healthy dose of skepticism at least for a minute, right? It’s just… yeah. A lot.”
Nat smiles, and looks into the fire. The flames are licking into one of the bigger logs now, and Van is right, it’s getting a little warmer.
It’s nice. There’s a few moments of comfortable silence.
"So,” says Van casually. “Since when are you fucking Misty?"
Nat's heart drops down into her stomach, and she cracks her neck because she spins her head so fast to stare at Van. "How did you know about that?"
Van smirks, and Nat immediately knows she's made a mistake. "One, I saw her leaving your room a few hours ago. And two, you just told me."
"Ugh," groans Nat, lifting her knees up to rest against her forehead. "I forgot how wily you were, you fucker."
"So swearing's allowed on the compound, that's good to know," Van remarks, her voice smug. "And so is banging sociopaths, I guess?"
Nat lifts her head up. "She's not - Van, you can't tell anyone."
Van rolls her eyes, but reaches out to tap Nat's shoulder. "Come on, I'm not a narc, you know me."
Nat reaches a hand out gloomily to grasp Van's forearm. "Thanks.”
The fire crackles. Nat reaches down and picks up a stick, reaches forward and pokes at a log for something to do with her hands. She hears an expectant noise and turns her head to see Van, still staring intently at her. "So? You have to elaborate on this. This is not a 'gloss over the details' sort of situation."
Nat lets out a soft laugh. "What do you want to know, Van?”
“Dude, everything! So what, you're like bonded by trauma sex pals?"
A good guess. It had started out that way.
The first time was after they drove back from Willow Brook. Nat was vulnerable and angry and grieving, and Misty was irritating and cloying and weirdly beautiful, and Nat grasped her ugly scrub shirt in her fist and shoved her roughly against the wall of her motel room. Misty didn’t protest, didn’t ask questions. Let her do it. Reciprocated, even.
As the whole gut wrenching Travis ordeal continued, Misty struggled and kicked her way into Natalie’s life. Phone calls. Voicemails. Texts, and secret fucking cameras.
She tried her best to be supportive by spouting tired cliches about grief and loss. It did not help at all, and repeatedly Nat told her, screaming at her that she wasn’t fucking making anything better by telling her ‘it’s not your fault.’
Misty had blinked at her helplessly, and terrible as she was at this, Nat could see she really did care, and Nat thought of something helpful that she could do instead of talking.
A great way to shut Misty up is to stick your tongue in her mouth. Pro tip.
It was good. Better than with Kevyn, who Nat had tried to comfort herself in the same way. It was difficult to admit to herself, but she was kind of relieved he stormed out on her. She’d rather have Misty. Misty … understood. In her own insane way.
That was when she started to notice things like - Misty smells like strawberries, a little. And she wrinkles her nose when she thinks about something really hard.
And when Nat kissed her, Misty would always sigh a little bit, like in relief, like she had been waiting all day for that kiss and she could finally relax now that she had it.
And Nat showed up to her door and saw her wearing lipstick and said “You look pretty,” like an idiot.
And Nat spent way too long on her hair for that stupid reunion because Misty asked her to be there.
And then she talked to Kevyn, and her world shattered, and she decided none of it was worth it anymore, and she got kidnapped by Lottie, and Misty figured out where she was and came after her and Nat saw her at the gate and her heart skipped.
Except…
"She showed up here with this guy, yesterday,” Nat finds herself saying, admittedly with very little context and out of nowhere. The words kind of spill out - they’ve been swirling around her brain and nagging at her and she hasn’t been able to talk about it and just needs to. She hears the bitterness in her own voice.
There’s a brief pause, and then somehow, Van follows this bizarre train of thought. “What, to here? To rescue you, though, right? That’s what she told me."
Nat almost laughs to herself. Of course Misty had been bragging about that to anyone who would listen. Then she frowns. “I mean, yeah, to rescue me, but Misty is capable of almost anything all on her own. Who was this guy? Why did she need a guy?" She kicks at a rock in the dirt, and instead of knocking it into the fire, stubs her toe. "Ow, fuck."
"Alright, geez, don't hurt yourself." Van's voice is teasing but kind. She exhales. "Okay, so, there's a guy. What does it matter? You still have not said anything about what’s going on, by the way.”
Nat shoots her a withering sideways glance. And then stares back into the fire and waits for the ball to drop.
"Oh my god." Van's voice is hushed, like she is afraid to swear in church. "Oh my god. Do you like - like her?”
Nat shifts uncomfortably. ‘Yes,’ she thinks. “I don’t know,” she says.
There’s a few moments of silence. Nat can picture how Van's mouth must have dropped wide open.
Because this is the issue, really. Fine, they slept together. And they kept doing it. And they talk about everything. And Misty dropped everything and followed her into the woods to save her. And Misty cares about her more than anyone has, she thinks.
And Nat actually loves her, she thinks.
So…
“I’m such a dick to her,” Nat says, anger in her voice, anger at herself. She is still staring ahead into the fire, unable to look into Van’s face while she says this. “She probably thinks I’m just using her.” She grinds her teeth, finding the words. “I don’t want her to be with some guy. I think I - want her to be with me.”
Nat steels herself, looks up and Van's eyes are like saucers. “You - Jesus Christ.”
Nat glares. “Do not tell a soul.”
“Shit.” The crackling of the fire is the only noise for a while. And then Van lets out a low whistle. “Well, Nat. I guess look at the facts. You’re an addict disaster wearing all purple in a cult in the woods. Is being happy with Misty Quigley really crazier?”
Which is a good point. But…
“She celebrates her bird’s birthday,” Nat says desperately.
“Not surprising.”
“And I think she kills people.”
Van snorts with laughter, which would be an insane reaction to that statement if talking about literally anyone else. “Yeah, also not surprising. And that’s not ideal. But hey.” Van scoots closer and places a hand on Nat’s shoulder. When she speaks again, her voice is strangely serious. “If I can offer you some advice… Don’t waste any time. Don’t - lose her because of your own stupid pride.”
Nat stares at her a long second. There is pain deep in the lines of her face. Nat thinks about Taissa, married with a kid, and Van here, alone. Poking a fire with a stick.
“Van - it’s not too late-“
But Van cuts her off, leaning back and looking at her sternly. “Oh no no, we’re not taking about me right now. We’re talking about you, and how you are a romantic disaster.”
Closing her eyes, Nat laughs quietly. She keeps them shut for a moment, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. “So what, I just go up there and tell her?” It sounds really simple, when she says it out loud. And terrifying.
Van sounds like she’s smiling. “Pretty much. Maybe bring her something she likes, like flowers, or a severed head.”
Nat winces. “Not funny.”
“Sorry, but you have to give me at least ten jokes about this. Per day.”
Shaking her head, Nat opens her eyes, laughing a bit. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”
For what it’s worth, Van actually looks kind of excited. “Oh man, you have to tell me how it goes. Can I be your maid of honour?”
Nat stands up. “I know you’re joking, but if this goes well, you are forbidden from saying anything even slightly related to weddings in front of Misty, for a long long time.”
Van smirks. “Probably smart.”
She stands there for a just a moment longer, looking at her friend. “Hey - thanks. I needed a kick in the ass.”
Van’s smile is kind and voice a little quiet. “Anytime.”
And Nat takes a last deep breath, and walks off into the night. And Van turns her head, and stares deep into the heart of the fire, until it burns down to embers.