Chapter Text
It’s the dead of the night when Sarah finally begins to stir, the lamp on the bedside table casting a soft orange glow throughout the room. Tally, already tense and anxious from the earlier events of the night, stiffens in her seat next to the bed Adil had helped her carry Sarah’s unconscious form to. The bedside Tally had been glued to ever since Sarah had been placed in it.
She isn’t entirely sure if she will be welcome here, if the former general will be okay with Tally seeing her this way, this vulnerable and weak. The general definitely wouldn’t, Tally is certain of that. But as she watches Sarah’s long lashes flutter open, she remembers the openness she has been given, the honesty she has received, and the soft, tender affection that had temporarily ceased the violent spinning of Tally’s upside down world, and she isn’t entirely certain how much of the general is left in the woman lying on the bed in front of her, and how much is Sarah.
It isn’t until Sarah has pushed herself halfway up into a sitting position on the bed does she notice Tally sitting almost perfectly still in a chair by her bedside, as if she were afraid of being noticed. Sarah’s normally bright eyes are glassy, skin pale and shiny with sweat, and they simply stare at each other for a few moments. Neither one of them speaks or moves until Sarah’s arms begin to shake with the effort of holding herself up, and she swallows, the noise loud in the otherwise silence of the room, before shifting back to lean against the headboard.
“How are you feeling?” Tally finally breaks the silence, unsure of what else to say, and a heavy sigh leaves the woman on the bed in front of her as she closes her eyes.
“I have a headache,” Sarah’s voice is raspy. “I can’t remember the last time I had a headache.”
Tally opens her mouth, but she isn’t sure what to say in response, so she just closes it again, looking down at her hands.
“How long was I out?”
She looks back up again at the sound of Sarah’s voice, finding herself to be watched, and she allows herself a moment to get lost in those blue eyes, in the soft waves of hair that have begun to curl slightly now that it was free from the tight braids and slick ponytails of the general.
“Not long,” She eventually forces herself to say. “Just a few hours.”
“You stayed?” Sarah poses this as a question and it takes Tally a moment longer than it should to realize that she isn’t asking if Tally stayed, because clearly she has, she is asking why.
“I…well, yeah,” Tally offers with a half shrug. “I mean you…you saved me. Us. You saved all of us when you didn’t have to, and it clearly took a lot out of you to do so.” Tally risks scooting her chair closer to Sarah’s bedside, relieved when the woman doesn’t pull back. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Sarah turns her head away from Tally, closing her eyes again, but her arm shifts toward her on the bed, extending her hand out so that it lays with her palm facing upward, and Tally realizes with furious flutter in her stomach that Sarah is asking for her hand.
She lays it hesitantly in Sarah’s open palm, her skin surprisingly warm, and a lump appears in her throat when Sarah laces their fingers together as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the pad of her thumb gently stroking the back of Tally’s knuckles.
And Tally doesn’t know what to do with this, with this soft, open, easy affection from a woman who, before her death and subsequent resurrection, had only ever shown her affection when they were intrinsically, and intimately, linked by the Biddy bond. She is dumbfounded as to not only why this woman before her is showing affection, but why she is choosing to show it to her, to the one person who was responsible from her fall from grace, who barreled her way into her past, hunting for her secrets like a bloodhound sniffing out its prey. Tally cannot imagine why, after ruining Sarah Alder’s life, the woman would even want to look at her, let alone hug her, hold her hand. Save her life.
“Why are you being nice to me?” Tally whispers the words before she can stop herself, heart pounding in her chest, and Sarah’s eyelids slowly open as she tilts her head to look at Tally once again.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” The question sounds so genuine, as if Sarah truly cannot think of a single reason she could possibly, rightfully have to be not nice to Tally, and Tally suddenly finds it impossible to meet her eyes.
“Because of…” Tally can hardly bring herself to say it, fighting the urge to remove her hand from Sarah’s. Shame crawls up her chest and cheeks, staining the skin red. “Because of what I did to you.”
“You betrayed me.”
Sarah’s voice is neither soft nor unkind, but flat, factual, and Tally’s eyes snap up to look at her. Sarah’s gaze is indecipherable, the weight of it and her words making Tally feel almost sick, and she goes to remove her hand from Sarah’s, but Sarah tightens her grip, holding it in place.
“You disobeyed direct orders, offered your own life in exchange for that of a woman who not only tried to kill me, but is responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocents, and you struck me while my back was turned.” Each word out of Sarah’s mouth makes Tally feel as if she is one second closer to crying, the backs of her eyes itching with that terrible and as of late, all too familiar feeling of tears and she wants to rip her hand free, wants to look away, but she is frozen, unable to move. “You betrayed my trust, and you betrayed me.”
“Yes,” Tally croaks out, voice cracking, and she finally looks down at the bed again, lashes wet with tears. “Yes, I did, so why-”
“Why?” Sarah asks, before sighing heavily. “Tally.” Her voice is soft in a way that makes Tally ache for something she didn’t know she could have, let alone that it was something she even wanted. “Do you truly think I care for you so little that any of that matters?”
Tally’s breath gets caught in her lungs, forced out only moments later by a sob that she isn’t able to hold back properly, and the hot tears that had been blurring her vision finally spill out over onto her cheeks. There is a soft sigh from Sarah before strong arms are pulling Tally out of her chair and onto the bed with her. Just as it had the day before, Sarah’s embrace simply makes Tally forget. It soothes her, stilling her racing mind, her pounding heart. It is a balm to every ache in Tally’s soul, and Tally is helpless to the way she clutches at Sarah, fearing that if she lets go even for a second, Sarah will disappear again.
Tally has dreamt of all the ways Alder would come back, but never in any lifetime did she ever imagine that she would get Sarah instead.
“Will you forgive me?” Tally chokes out, voice half muffled by the wild mane of Sarah’s hair. “For hurting you, for…for betraying you. Can you forgive me?”
“Tally,” Sarah says her name again, voice rough in Tally’s ear, and Tally decides in that moment that she never wants Sarah to stop saying it, that she never wants to hear the name Craven directed toward her again. “I already have. You know this.”
Even with as unwilling as she is to leave Sarah’s embrace, Sarah’s claim that she has forgiven Tally and that Tally has somehow had knowledge of this fact when Tally herself is positive that she knows no such thing, causes her to pull away, staring at Sarah in confusion. Her overly emotional brain goes into overdrive, thinking back to the few times she has seen Sarah since finding out she was alive again, trying to come up with something, anything in their past interactions that could possibly translate into Sarah saying I forgive you but she comes up woefully, distressingly short.
Excluding the earlier events of the night that had Sarah showing up and saving their lives from Hearst and the other Camarilla, Tally had only seen Sarah twice, once at the bar and again, just a few days ago, when Khalida had summoned her with her piece of the first song. Tally remembers begging Sarah to stay, remembers Sarah calling her Tally for the first time, stroking her face and holding her so gently, cradling her for a few moments before leaving in such a way that Tally’s heart had threatened to leap from her chest and follow Sarah wherever she went.
Tally isn’t entirely certain that it hadn’t.
She is certain, however, that Sarah has not told her that she had forgiven her.
“What are you…what do you mean I know?” Tally hates how thick her voice sounds, how her hands clutch desperately at the sleeves of Sarah’s long sleeve shirt, her jacket left and forgotten on the other side of the bed.
“I told you as much,” Sarah says, and it’s all Tally can do to not scoff in Sarah’s face, though she isn’t able to stop herself from gaping at her. “The last time I saw you.”
“Told me?” Tally laughs, borderline hysterical, and Sarah tilts her head almost imperceptibly, puzzled. “Alder, the last time you were here, you barely told me anything. All you did was tell me that you didn’t know anything about Raelle and then you hugged me and left, I-”
Sarah’s head tilts even further, looking at Tally as if she is missing something glaringly obvious, and Tally’s words die in her throat.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tally asks before being hit with a sudden realization, the meaning of Sarah’s words becoming crystal clear to her in an instant. “Wait. Are you talking about when you hugged me? That was you forgiving me?”
“I forgave you long before that, Tally,” Sarah brushes a strand of hair behind Tally’s cheek. “That was simply my way of telling you.”
“But you didn’t tell me anything,” Tally says, beginning to tremble on the bed. “You can’t just hug me without saying anything and then leave me immediately after and expect me to know what it means.” Tally’s words are spilling out of her mouth, fast and almost incomprehensible, and oh Goddess damn it all, she is crying again. “You have to use your words if you want people to know what you’re saying, I’m not a mind reader, I can’t-”
“Okay,” Sarah says quietly, gently pulling Tally closer to her again. Tally still shakes like a leaf as Sarah tucks her against her, the two of them rocking slightly back and forth on the bed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I forgive you.”
An ugly sob wrenches its way free from Tally’s throat before she can stop it. Oh, she has dreamt of this, of all the ways she would beg for Alder’s forgiveness, would work for it, would do anything to regain even the smallest fraction of the trust that she had so easily shattered before without even giving it a second thought. She had never imagined it would be given to her so willingly.
“Say it again,” Tally whispers. Her fingers curl into Sarah’s shoulders, eyes burning.
“I forgive you.”
“No,” Tally says. “Not that.” And perhaps it is hypocritical of her to tell Sarah that she needs to actually use her words, that she can’t just expect people to know what she means when she won’t actually say anything, only to go ahead and do the same thing herself moments later, but Tally just clings to Sarah, hoping and praying that by some miracle Sarah will know what she is saying, will know what she desperately wants to hear from her again.
Sarah’s nose nudges against the side of Tally’s cheek, her breath warm against her skin. “I care about you, Tally Craven.” She whispers, wiping away Tally’s tears with a feather light touch, and oh, that was it. That was what Tally needed to hear, that was what she needed to know. A full-bodied whimper works its way through her as she holds tightly onto the miracle of a woman in front of her.
“Sarah,” She utters the other woman’s name for the first time like one would a prayer, reverent and awestruck, and the woman in question freezes in her arms, breath audibly catching in her throat. Tally shifts so that she can look at her, Sarah’s face and eyes showing nothing but surprise, mouth parted just the slightest, and Tally closes her eyes, resting her forehead against Sarah’s. “Sarah.” She says again, and every ounce of tension seems to drain from Sarah’s body in a single instant, shoulders sagging as she leans against Tally. “I care about you, too.”
They need to take Sarah back to Fort Salem, to the nearest access point for the Mycelium. Tally isn’t quite sure she entirely understands, or even likes the way Sarah’s health seems to be directly tied to the health of the Mycelium, but even after a full night’s rest, Sarah still looks pale and unsteady, somehow even worse than she did the night before, and so when she says she needs to return to the Mycelium, Thelma arranges transport for them, and they head on their way.
Tally ends up in the back of the Cession car with Sarah who closes her eyes almost immediately, leaning back against the headrest. Her breathing is slow and shallow, and several times throughout the long trip, Tally has to stop herself from reaching over just to make sure the woman still has a pulse.
“Can’t you drive any faster?” She asks Abigail at one point, after having watched Sarah grimace in pain one too many times. She leans forward between the two front seats to talk to Abigail who has been driving. “You do realize she’s dying, right?”
“And you realize that we’re all still wanted by the American government, right?” Abigail does her best not to snap back, clearly annoyed by Tally’s worrying. “If I get pulled over for speeding, a ticket will be the least of our worries, and then we’ll never get Alder back to the Mycelium.”
“Okay, but-” Tally’s continued worried protests are brought to a halt by the pressure of a too warm hand on top of her own. She twists in her seat, looking back to find Sarah’s eyes partially open.
“It’s alright,” Sarah’s voice is low, and Tally isn’t sure if she is keeping her words from Adil and Abigail on purpose, or if she simply doesn’t have the energy to speak at a normal volume. “There is no use in worrying over things you cannot control.”
Tally scoffs at that. “That is much easier said than done.” Sarah tugs very gently on her hand, pulling her back into her seat, and Tally goes willingly.
“Try,” Sarah says, eyes slipping shut again, but not letting go of Tally’s hand. “For me.”
“I would do a lot of things for you,” Tally admits, lowering her voice to match Sarah’s quiet tone. “But I’m also always going to worry about you, and that’s something we’ll just both have to live with.” She lifts her free hand, pressing it against Sarah’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”
A quiet hum is the only response she gets.
Tally sighs, feeling all at once trapped and helpless, startlingly overcome with the fear that Sarah Alder is going to die next to her in the seat of this car, and removes her hand. Sarah catches it by the wrist, bringing it back, and splaying Tally’s hand against her hot cheek, leaning her head into it.
“Your hand feels nice,” Sarah murmurs, quiet enough that Tally almost misses it. “Cool.”
“My hands are always cold.”
“Mm,” A ghost of a smile tugs at Sarah’s lips, eyes still closed. “That makes sense. I remember how pleased you were when you found out the Biddy uniforms had gloves.”
“I never mentioned that to you, did I?” Tally asks, because yes, she had been thrilled when she had been given her Biddy uniform and gotten the thick pair of gloves to go with them, but she was certain she never would have mentioned such a mundane thing to General Alder.
“You didn’t have too,” Sarah lowers their hands into her lap, essentially now holding both of Tally’s hands and giving no signs of letting go. “The bond went both ways, remember? I could feel you, too.”
“Right,” Tally pauses for a moment, staring down at her hands in Sarah’s. She dares to thread the fingers of one of their conjoined hands together, finding that Sarah easily allows it. “Do you miss them?”
Sarah rolls her head to the side, opening her eyes to look at Tally. She says nothing for several moments before, “Do you?”
“Yeah,” Tally says with a head nod. “Yeah, of course.”
“Yeah,” Sarah straightens her head, staring up at the roof of the car. Her hands flex around Tally’s, tightening briefly. “Of course.”
The wards at Fort Salem still seem to somehow recognize Sarah, allowing the four of them to easily slip past the barrier. Sarah’s knowledge of the grounds and hidden pathways allow them to navigate the base without being spotted, slipping in between buildings and taking shortcuts that Tally hadn’t even known existed.
Sarah leans heavily against Tally, arm slung over her shoulders and Tally’s tucked securely around her waist as they head through the forest toward the Necro building, occasionally tripping over her own two feet and causing Tally to also stumble under the weight of her.
“Sorry,” Sarah mumbles after they both stumble for the third time, sounding out of breath and almost wheezing out her words. “Just give me to Adil, he can-”
“I’ve got you,” Tally says stubbornly, tightening her hold around Sarah’s waist. “Just save your energy, okay? We’re almost there.”
It is thankfully after hours as they slip into the Necro facility, wandering through the empty halls, heading to the rooms in the back of the building that house Izadora’s office and the Mycelium. Abigail and Adil lead the way, making sure the hallways and rooms they pass by are clear before the rest of them continue on, but as they pass around the corner that holds Izadora’s office, a surprised gasp can be heard, followed by the sound of something shattering as it hits the stone floor.
“Cadet Bellweather!” Izadora’s stunned voice echoes down the hallway, growing louder as Tally and Sarah draw nearer. “What in the name of the Goddess are you doing here! Does your mother know you’re here? If you’re caught here, Cadet, I can’t-”
“Izadora,” Abigail holds her hands up in mock surrender, silencing the other woman. “I know I put not just myself, but you as well at a huge risk by coming here, but I promise you, we had a very good reason.”
“And what reason could you possibly have-”
Izadora’s voice dies down the moment Sarah and Tally stumble around the corner into view. Her eyes bug almost completely out of her skull, gaping silently for a moment, before a strangled gasp leaves her. “General!” She rounds the desk she had been standing behind almost immediately, stepping neatly over the remains of a teacup that now lies in pieces on the floor. “What…how is this possible?”
“Izadora,” Despite her exhaustion and feverish state, a genuine smile seems to pass over Sarah’s face, reaching weakly out for Izadora who firmly grasps her hand in both her own, shaking it vigorously. “It is good to see you, old friend.”
“I don’t understand,” Izadora continues to look Sarah up and down in shock, as if she can’t quite believe her eyes. “How have you returned?”
“As much as I would love to stay and explain everything to you, Izadora,” Sarah sounds apologetic, but Tally swears she has started leaning even heavier on her during the short conversation they have had so far. “But I’m afraid I have to cut this short. I have to get to the Mycelium before it is too late.”
“Of course,” Izadora’s eyes are clearly burning with curiosity, her tiny stature practically vibrating with a million unspoken questions, but she seems to understand the gravity of the situation, even if she doesn’t fully understand the reasoning behind it. “Right this way.”
She ushers them all toward the back room, Tally slowly helping Sarah move forward, and the moment Tally steps foot into the room chambering the Mycelium, her throat closes up.
The white wall of mushroom in front of her writhes and seems to breathe on its own, pulsating strangely, and a high-pitched whine begins to ring sharply in Tally’s ears. She doesn’t register the sound of people talking quietly around her, or the fact that Adil has looped Sarah’s other arm around his neck, relieving some of her weight off of Tally.
Tally is suddenly only aware of the fact that she has been in this very situation once before, that she has sent Sarah through the Mycelium before, and had not seen her for months after, thinking the whole time that she had been dead.
Her feet stop of their own accord, trying to force air in and out of her lungs, but the air suddenly seems too thick, too heavy, and it becomes impossible to get a good lungful. How can she do this again? How can she send a dying Sarah Alder once again through the Mycelium with no knowledge of if she will be alright or if she will ever see her again? Raelle had been taken by the Mycelium to heal and Tally had no idea how to get her back, or if she would ever return; how was this any different?
“Tally,” There is a faint pressure on either side of her cheeks, a gentle stroking motion that follows the path of her cheekbone. “Tally, look at me. Look at me.”
Tally’s vision suddenly snaps back into focus, eyes wide, entire body trembling. Sarah, despite her weakness, despite the signs of pain she had been exhibiting, despite her previous inability to even stand up on her own, stands in front of her, cradling her cheeks, looking worried. Her eyes are glassy and rimmed with dark circles, forehead slick with a fever, and still, Tally is certain she has never seen anything more beautiful.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah’s voice seems to be the only thing cutting past the loud ringing in Tally’s ears. “Something is wrong, tell me what it is.”
“I can’t…” Tally starts before almost choking on her words, still struggling for a proper breath. Her eyes dart to the Mycelium wall and back. “Sarah, I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” Sarah urges gently. Her hands drop from Tally’s face to her upper arms, squeezing.
“I can’t do this again,” Tally finally manages to say, but it is clear from the confusion in Sarah’s eyes, that she does not understand Tally’s meaning. “I can’t send you through the Mycelium, Sarah, not again, what if you don’t come back and-”
“I will come back,” Sarah’s voice is steady and sure, but does little to ease Tally’s anxiety.
“But how can you know?” Tally grips at Sarah’s arms in return, digging her fingers into the muscle beneath. “She took Raelle and we haven’t gotten her back yet, how can you know for certain that you-”
Sarah pulls Tally closer to her, lowering her head ever so slightly so that their foreheads touch, resting against one another. “I promise you, Tally Craven.” She whispers, voice full of conviction like that of the General, yet laced with a gentleness that could only come from Sarah. “It will be alright. This is not like the last time; I will return, and I will see you again. Do you understand me?”
“When?” Tally whimpers, not caring that they have an audience, not caring about the thousands of questions she will receive from Abigail on their way out of here, or the possibly scandalized looks from Izadora. She doesn’t care about anything but Sarah at the moment. “How long?”
“I will find you first,” Sarah assures her. “The moment I am strong enough to come back, I will come to you. Alright?”
Tally inhales sharply, nodding her head against Sarah’s without lifting it. She knows she should let Sarah go, knows she is probably in pain, growing weaker by the second, yet she cannot seem to bring herself to loosen her grip on her. “I still don’t think I can watch you go through there again.”
“Then don’t.” Sarah turns her head and Tally swears she feels the ghost of lips over her temple, but decides she must be imagining things. “Don’t open your eyes. Wait till I’m gone.” There is one more squeeze of Tally’s arms and then Sarah is extracting herself from her grip, stepping away from Tally’s embrace. “I will see you soon, Tally.”
Tally’s eyes remain squeezed shut for several long moments, and when she finally opens them again, Sarah is gone, and the ache in Tally’s chest lets her know that Sarah had, in fact, taken Tally’s heart with her when she left.
Tally goes home to California. With how easily the Camarilla had found, and nearly killed, Raelle’s father, Tally wants to make sure that her mother is alright, and so when they return to the Cession, Thelma arranges her another ride, and Tally soon finds herself back on the grounds of the compound, somewhere she never thought she would be again.
Her mother is just as antagonistic as she had been before Tally left; belittling Tally’s time in the army, her experiences, and everything she has been through. Tally is almost certain that if she were to bring up the fact that she had briefly been a Biddy, her mother would go into cardiac arrest and die on the spot.
But eventually, May Craven’s icy exterior begins to melt away, and Tally is afforded a few glimpses of the mother she remembers from growing up, the mother would who summon summer rain for Tally to dance in as a child, the mother who would sing away Tally’s scrapes and bruises, who taught her to bake, to drive, and to love fiercely.
The mother May Craven had been before her sisters died; before Tally told her, despite the dispensation May had fought so desperately for, that she still wanted to answer the Call.
She knows they will never be able to go back to their old selves, that May will always harbor a little bit of resentment toward her for the choice she had made, and that Tally will always be on edge, waiting for another scathing remark toward the Army, toward Sarah, but it feels almost normal, almost like it used to, and with everything that’s been happening in Tally’s life in the past few months, she will take even the slightest resemblance of normalcy.
When it becomes clear over the course of the few days that Tally spends at her mother’s house that May is not in any danger, Tally uses the Spree mirror Working Scylla taught her to contact Abigail and Thelma back in the Cession to tell them that she is ready to come back.
“Any sign or word from Raelle?” Tally is hopeful as she asks, but it is thoroughly dashed when Abigail looks at her grimly, shaking her head.
“Scylla is trying everything she can think of, but we haven’t been able to contact her. Three goats have died so far, not even including the one she used at Yule. I think she’s starting to go crazy.”
“I know the feeling,” Tally mutters without really thinking.
“Nothing from Alder then, I take it?”
“I…I was talking about Raelle!” Tally sputters, even though she hadn’t really been, but Abigail just smirks, shaking her head.
“Sure, Tal. Whatever you say.”
Tally spends the next day pacing around the house like a caged animal. The car from the Cession isn’t going to arrive until early the next morning, but Tally wants nothing more than to finally get out of the house, sick of being trapped inside and unable to show her face outside the four walls of her house.
She eats dinner that night in a strained silence with her mother, and when she offers to do the dishes, is quickly hushed and shooed away.
“I’ve been doing the dishes by myself the entire past year you were gone, I can continue to do so.”
Tally gives up then, saying she is going to bed, and heads upstairs to her old bedroom. Part of her thinks coming back home was a mistake, that it would have been easier to just stay away, but she also knows if she hadn’t come home and something had happened to her mother, she would have never forgiven herself.
Tally pushes open her bedroom door, flicking on the light switch on the wall next to her, and promptly lets out a scream.
She claps a hand over her mouth, heart racing in her chest, as the figure of Sarah Alder sits on the edge of her bed, one of her eyebrows raised.
“Tally?” May’s voice floats up from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Tally calls back, lowering her hand, eyes glued to the woman in front of her. She doesn’t want to take her eyes off of Sarah for even a second, certain she will disappear again if she does. “Yes, I’m fine. I just…saw a spider.”
She quickly steps into the room, ignoring the she thinks she’s so fierce for joining the Army, yet she’s still afraid of spiders muttering of her mother, and slams the door shut behind her.
“Afraid of spiders, Tally Craven?” Sarah stands, teasing her in that perfect voice of hers. She is wearing the same clothes she was before, hair still down and curling slightly, but there are no signs of fever or sickness, no indication that she is in any sort of pain.
“Deathly,” Tally breathes out. She is moving across the short space of her room before she even realizes what she is doing, throwing her arms around Sarah and squeezing tightly. There is no hesitation on Sarah’s part to return the gesture, strong arms wrapping themselves around Tally, holding her in a gentle, yet firm embrace.
Tally turns her head to bury it in the wild mane of Sarah’s hair, feeling one of Sarah’s thumbs softly stroking against her back. “You came back.” She whispers, voice almost lost with how quiet she speaks.
Sarah’s arms around her tighten ever so slightly. “I told you I would come and find you.” There is a brief pause, and when she speaks again, her voice takes on a teasing tone, one that confuses Tally for a moment. “Yet, you were not entirely without me here, were you?”
Tally pulls back just enough so that she can look at Sarah in confusion, but not so much that she entirely leaves her embrace. It had been such a worrying few days without her, that now that she had her here, like this, she was going to stay in Sarah’s arms for as long as she allowed it. “What? What are you talking about?”
Sarah has the audacity to smirk at her then, lips twitching in an effort to hold back a much larger smile, and her eyes flick very pointedly over Tally’s shoulder, in the direction of the now closed bedroom door and-
“Oh,” Tally’s face is instantly on fire. Her eyes slam shut in embarrassment. “Oh no.” She moans.
Sarah’s answering laugh rumbles low in her chest, and the sound of it makes Tally flush all the harder, but for an entirely different reason. “Now, if I remember correctly.” Sarah extricates herself from Tally’s arms, stepping around to take a closer look at the giant poster of General Alder taped to the back of Tally’s door. “That picture was originally taken in the early nineties, soon after the emergence of the Spree. I remember they had said something about wanting to combat the fear that was starting to run rampant at the time. I believed it was a waste of time, but I learned very quickly that you should never underestimate the power of propaganda.”
Sarah looks back over her shoulder at Tally who has turned around to look with her, eyes finally open, face still bright red. She fights back another smile. “Does your mother know this is up here?”
“Goddess, no,” Tally squeaks out. She clears her throat rather roughly, avoiding Sarah’s gaze. “I…I found it at a thrift store with my friend Glory when I was younger. I smuggled it home in my backpack and…Goddess, I’ll just take it down.” Tally steps forward, already reaching out to tear the poster off the door in one swift motion, but Sarah stops her with a hand to the arm, applying the gentlest of pressures.
“It’s alright, Tally,” Her voice suddenly sounds rather odd, causing Tally to finally look up at her. “You can…you can leave it.”
Tally pauses as she watches Sarah stare at the poster of General Alder, hair pulled back into a neat braid, dress blues immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight. She stands tall and stiff, not even the faintest crack of a smile on her face as she stares directly ahead. She is imposing and fierce, every bit the ruthless leader the American government needed to combat an enemy like the Spree.
She feels Sarah go tense next to her, watches the amused smile slowly slip from her face.
“Do you, um…” Tally shifts on her feet awkwardly. Reaches out for Sarah, but then thinks better of it. “Do you miss her? Being her, I mean? I know you’re still her, technically, but you’re also not, not really, and so I just-”
“Yes,” Sarah cuts Tally off, before sighing, shoulders dropping the slightest. “And no. It’s…it’s complicated. I am grateful to her, for everything that she’s allowed me to do over the years, all that I’ve learned from being her…but you are right. I am not her, not anymore. And I am…freer this way.” There is a brief pause. “Happier this way.”
“Right,” Tally says, lacking anything better to say. She looks back at the poster, struggling to think of something intelligent to say in response, but Sarah soon clears her throat, looking away from the poster to take in the surroundings of the rest of Tally’s room.
“Are you staying home much longer?” She asks.
“No,” Tally answers, watching as Sarah’s eyes roam over her childhood bedroom, over the overflowing bookshelf, the glitter pens and old journals scattered across the desk, and the dreamcatcher hanging above her bed. “Thelma- one of the Cession Councilwomen who’s been helping us- she’s sending me a car to take me back to the Cession. It’ll be here just after six tomorrow morning.”
“I see.” The corners of Sarah’s mouth briefly quirk into a smile as she spots a stuffed animal in the form of a black cat peeking out from behind the many pillows on Tally’s bed. “I suppose I should take my leave, then. We both have many long days ahead of us.”
“Or you could stay.” Tally blurts out the words without really thinking.
“I would like to, Tally, but as I’ve said, we both have long days-”
“No, I meant,” Tally’s cheeks burn with a blush, earning a curious look from Sarah at the interruption. “Like…stay the night. Here.” She swallows, willing herself not to lose her nerve. “With me.”
The silence hangs heavy between them, Tally’s heart thundering loudly in her chest like a runaway train. Sarah’s eyebrows are half risen in surprise, and the burn in Tally’s cheeks only intensifies as Sarah’s eyes move to find Tally’s twin bed shoved into the far corner of the room, a bed that had hardly been big enough for Tally and Glory to comfortably share when they were teenagers, let alone big enough for two grown women to share.
“Alright,” Sarah’s gentle acquiescence takes Tally by surprise, stopping her thoughts in place before she is able to start second guessing herself and frantically backpedaling in embarrassment. “I will stay.”
This was a mistake.
Lying on her side on the bed, acutely aware of the warm presence of Sarah behind her, Tally isn’t certain how she is supposed to be able to get even a single second of sleep tonight.
She lies almost stiff as a board, staring straight ahead into the darkness, feeling the occasional tickle as Sarah’s warm breath hits the back of her neck, ruffling her hair. She feels afraid to move, not wanting to bump into the woman lying so closely behind her that their bodies are practically pressed up against one another, and Tally tries very hard not to think about the fact that she is basically spooning with Sarah Alder.
Does Sarah even know what spooning is?
“Tally?” Her name is soft, tickling the hair at the back of her neck again.
“Yeah?”
The bed creaks quietly as Sarah shifts on it, hand brushing almost imperceptibly against Tally’s hip. Tally hears Sarah swallow nervously in the dark.
“Do you miss her?”
Tally frowns at the wall in front of her. “What?”
“The general,” Sarah whispers so quietly that Tally almost misses it. “Do you miss her?” And then before Tally can even begin to answer, “Did you…like her better?”
Tally feels the faint tremor of Sarah’s hand where it hovers over Tally’s hip, the touch of it just ghosting over her.
“It’s okay if you did,” Sarah continues, not allowing Tally time to speak. “I know how much you admired her. How much she meant to you.”
“Sarah-”
“I could be her again, if you wanted.”
Tally’s blood runs cold in her veins. A coppery taste suddenly floods into her mouth.
“If you liked her better, Tally, I could-”
“No.” Tally twists around in the bed so harshly and so suddenly that her legs get tangled in the sheets covering them. Sarah jerks her head back in surprise, almost hitting it on the wall behind her. “No, I don’t want you to be her again. Not for me, not for anyone else. I just want you to be yourself, Sarah. Whoever that may be now.”
“But if you liked her better-”
“I didn’t.” Desperation claws at Tally’s chest as she grabs Sarah’s hand, squeezing it so tight she’s certain she must be causing Sarah physical pain, but Sarah doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t like her better, Sarah.” Tally stresses again.
She shuffles closer to the woman on the bed. She hears Sarah’s breath catch in the dark as their noses brush, hands intertwined between their chests. “I like Sarah better.” Tally breathes out, her warm breath hitting Sarah’s lips. “I like…” She pauses, squeezing Sarah’s hand once, a quick pulse of surety and affection. “I like this better. I admired the general, yes.” She admits. “But I care about you. Okay? So don’t change. Please.”
“Okay.” When Sarah nods her agreement, voice thick with emotion and gratefulness, they are close enough to each other that Sarah’s top lip briefly brushes against Tally’s own. Her hand that currently isn’t held in a death grip by Tally’s lowers itself to rest firmly on Tally’s hip, sliding around to place itself in the small of her back, holding her close. “Okay, I won’t.”