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They'd done it. Her job was done – her quest over, and tomorrow the Mother would sing her home one final time. Eternal rest awaited her, and she wanted to welcome it with open arms. She wanted to feel like she'd earned it after more than three hundred years, all spent fighting to protect witch-kind and civilians alike.
And yet... She didn't.
There was nothing more for her to do, and yet acceptance eluded her as she wandered the grounds of Fort Salem one last time. Hands clasped behind her back, shoulders straight and eyes forward. After all, Sarah Alder had never been one to look back, and she certainly wouldn't start now.
Her life had been punctuated by a certain kind of loneliness for as long as she could recall. Everyone she ever knew and loved gone long before herself. An endless cycle of grief occupied her mind like a typhoon of melancholic memories. But tonight, was different. Tonight, was lonelier than ever before, because after all, who could ever begin to try to relate? To understand? To comfort her during her last few hours?
"I, Sarah Elisabeth Alder, solemnly pledged to protect and defend the United States of America against all enemies, foreign or domestic." She uttered, a sad smile playing on her lips as she recalled the numerous wars she had fought, lives she'd taken. Lives she'd saved.
"I have faithfully served and obeyed the rules and articles for the government of the Army of the United States, all secrets kept, all lawful commands willingly performed as dictated by the Salem Accord.” The words tumbled from her lips as if they were second nature. As if she'd whispered them to herself on nights where sleep had often escaped her – in lonely moments during which the hostile voice of doubt roared in her mind. Had she done enough? Could she rest now? Would she finally find peace? It was within her grasp, as it had been many times over though always evaded her, slipping like sand between her calloused hands.
The moon bathed Fort Salem in an ethereal glow, casting its graceful light upon the place Sarah had built in the wake of great tragedy. The place she had shaped, molded, and turned into a home not only for herself, but for every witch yet to come. It hung high in the night sky, like a holy image painted onto a dark, blank canvas. For centuries, she had been Sarah's most loyal companion – her presence ever fleeting, yet never truly gone, and it had always been comforting to the seasoned General. For even if peace had eluded her for decades, Sarah Alder had only ever longed for one particular thing.
Love.
And she had found it, in the end. Nestled within a young cadet with fiery red locks and a burning desire to seek the truth no matter the consequences. But it didn't matter now. How could it? Even if, by chance, Tally Craven would decide to love her back, how could Sarah even begin to allow such foolish conviction when her fate was pre-destined? When tonight would definitively be her last night alive? No, she wouldn't let Tally Craven experience the pain of an 'almost'.
"There you are," a familiar voice sounded from behind Sarah. She could practically feel the uncertainty and the pain seeping from the words uttered. The determined sound of Tally’s boots crunching against the dirt came ever closer until the redhead came to a standstill behind Sarah. "I've been looking for you, I was afraid that–"
"I'm still here. For a while." Sarah cut in to reassure the younger witch. "Though, I'm afraid I won't make for the cheeriest of company tonight."
"Right, because you were always so cheerful in the past," Tally shot back playfully, evidently attempting to lighten the mood.
Sarah couldn't help the slight tug that pulled her lips upwards. "Always so painfully honest, aren't you?", she smiled as she finally turned to meet Tally's gaze that she'd felt locked onto her frame since the redhead appeared.
"What is our word if not honest?" Tally shrugged gently, doe-browns settling firmly on Sarah's sapphire hues.
Sarah fell silent for a long while at those words. Lifetimes passed her by in the blink of an eye, recalling each moment that had kept Sarah's honesty stowed away and retained behind lock and key. Times she'd told herself that her honesty equaled weakness; that it wasn't warranted nor wanted. Never needed.
"I regret that I haven't been more sincere in the past. It is perhaps one of my greatest shortcomings." The raven-haired female confessed through a shallow breath. "It has deprived me of a great number of things."
And as if she could read the former General like an open book – as if Tally’s gaze fluttered Sarah’s pages apart to any given word that Tally wanted, the redhead reached for her, nimble digits clasping around Sarah's own as Tally took one of her hands and held it firmly.
Sarah wondered silently, how someone like Tally – someone so bright and sunny sought out Sarah’s company at every chance. How could it be that Tally always sought to comfort Sarah? Her touch was far too gentle – far too soft, and altogether too kind. Sarah didn’t deserve kindness. She didn’t deserve Tally. Sarah was too burdened and held too much darkness. Throughout her life, Sarah had witnessed so much tragedy that she wasn’t sure she possessed the ability to change. To soften and let go of her trauma. And Tally deserved more than that – more than Sarah.
"There's still time." The younger witch whispered under her breath, though with such conviction that Sarah almost forgot what tonight was. As if time ceased to exist in that very same moment as Tally Craven stood, eyes locked onto Sarah's with a pleading gleam of unshed tears that told a story of a love so great it could've ended wars.
If only it had ever been given the chance.
"Not enough, I'm afraid." Sarah sighed, her head dipping slightly as she became unable to hold Tally's gaze.
"There's never enough time, Sarah," Tally whispered under her breath, "not even for you."
"So, what do we do when there's not enough?" Sarah almost laughed, though her vocals were coated with painful regret that leaked into the empty space between them.
Tally pondered for a moment, her thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles into the back of Sarah's hand. Sarah felt how Tally's hazel orbs still lingered on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet the Knower's stare. She couldn't bear the hurt she would find in those honey irises she had dreamt of falling into more times than she cared to admit.
"We make the most of the time we do have. No matter how short."
"How?" Sarah inquired through a quiet sniffle. She wanted to curse herself for the way Tally Craven seemed able to tear down her walls. How the younger witch always managed to barge in without knocking and march straight into Sarah's thundering heart. Much like she'd done on that fateful night many moons ago. That night had changed everything.
At first, Sarah had been furious. A tangled mess of rage because a cadet had barged into her office, unannounced, after hours, and demanded answers that she hadn't been entitled to. But nowadays, Sarah recalled that memory with a particular fondness. It had been the first time she'd caught a glimpse of who Tally Craven truly was – strong-willed, determined and earnest. And once the anger had dissipated, it had been replaced by a respect the former General had never held for any cadet before. A respect that later bloomed and turned into something far more complex.
"If tonight is to be your last..." Tally trailed off, though her words pulled Sarah from her own mind, nonetheless. "What's one thing you want to do?"
At that, the older woman's gaze finally lifted from where it had been plastered to the ground, and her eyes met with Tally's once more as a silent tear tumbled down the side of her face. "I couldn't possibly–"
"One thing, Sarah. Anything." Tally interrupted, her hazel eyes shimmering with a golden gleam of hope.
"Tally..." Sarah breathed as her free hand came to rest against the Knower's cheek and she brought their foreheads together.
"One less regret to worry about..." The redhead spoke through a wet laugh, and Sarah realized Tally was crying, too.
"I couldn't do that to you. I won't." Sarah argued, the hand nestled on Tally's cheek sliding back to tangle in red locks.
"And if I want you to?" Tally whispered; her breath hot against Sarah's lips. They were mere inches apart as their hearts attuned and beat as one. "Doesn't what I want matter, too?"
It wasn’t a demand. The question wasn’t uttered in a way that made it sound like Tally thought it unfair. It was a mere plea that Sarah would grant Tally’s wish and finally let her past the last remaining barrier Sarah had put in place centuries ago.
"It's all that matters." Sarah breathed and finally, their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss. Tally's lips were softer than Sarah had imagined – more delicate than she'd dared dream of, and they moved against her own with such tender vigor that Sarah couldn't help the muffled sob that left her. Kissing Tally Craven felt like coming home; like arriving in a place only meant for her.
As their lips moved in a synchronized dance, Sarah chanced pulling Tally closer, pleasantly surprised when the younger female happily deepened the kiss by allowing Sarah's tongue to slide past parted brims. It was euphoric the way they melted together, and the way Tally's hands settled firmly on Sarah's waist had tingles cascading down the older woman's spine. And in the most aching way, Sarah realized that their first kiss would also be their last.
The realization settled quickly in Sarah's chest, forcing her heart to clench tightly as if squeezed by a strong fist, nails digging into the soft flesh of the pounding muscle. And in sync with Sarah's racing thoughts, the wind seemed to pick up as dark, stormy clouds gathered above, casting out the glow of the full moon.
Goosebumps rose and settled on her arms, causing a slight shiver to travel through her body as the gentle breeze brushed by blowing raven locks back and away from Sarah's face. The rain soon started pouring, soaking Sarah's Mycelium-made moss colored jacket and Tally's grey army issued t-shirt. Pulling back slightly, Sarah rested her head against Tally’s. Her shaky hands brushed through soaked auburn tresses, attempting to smooth them back and out of the younger witch’s face.
“Don’t leave me,” Tally pleaded between whispered sobs. “We can start over. I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect. Just please don’t leave me, Sarah.”
“There isn’t a way to fix this now, Tally,” Sarah sighed, fighting against the hurricane of grief and heartache that stormed in her heart. “Everything is temporary. This was merely one of those things.”
“Then I just need this moment. This last one.” The redhead spoke defeatedly as she lifted her head in order to meet Sarah’s grief-stricken gaze. Sarah managed a weak smile in return as she nodded in agreement.
“And you shall have it,” Sarah replied, pressing a featherlight kiss to Tally’s forehead. “It’s always been you, Tally Craven. No matter how many times I disagreed, it was always you.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” The younger witch admitted, her fists balling at Sarah’s sides as she clung onto the material of Sarah’s coat for dear life. As if Sarah would disappear any second, and Tally was desperately trying to force her to stay just a moment longer.
“I’ll always be with you, Sunshine.” The older woman promised, her hands settling firmly on either one of Tally’s shoulders.
“It’s not enough.” Tally cried, tears spilling down her cheeks in sync with the raindrops pummeling the ground around them.
“There’s never enough time. Not for me, not for you, and unfortunately… Not for us.” Sarah repeated Tally’s earlier words. “But we must make the most of the time we do have.”
“How?” Tally inquired, forcing a deep breath into her lungs. It came out more staggered than Tally had anticipated as her doe-browns settled firmly on ocean blues.
“For now? Be here with me.”