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I Hold Death’s Hand in Mine
Rio exhaled, a sense of melancholy and regret stealing through her blackened heart. Except it was tinged with something else too, flickering at the edges. Something that felt a little bit too much like hope for her liking. Yet, it wasn’t enough to stop her from following Agatha.
She’d spent most of her life, more of it than she cared to admit anyway, following that woman. Apparently, here on the road, it was no different.
As Rio passed the witches a hand reach out to grab for her. It was only her preoccupation with Agatha that prevented her from drawing her knife. Instead she tilted her head and raised a questioning brow.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said in the sound booth.” Lilia said, staring intently at her.
Jerking away from the touch, Rio hissed, then sauntered away without a backward glance.
She didn’t care what the other witches thought, or suspected, or whatever. They’d be dead soon enough anyway.
Rounding the corner, she spotted Agatha, back toward Rio. Her hair was longer than Rio had seen it in a while. A wild mass that flowed down her back, the ends just brushing the top of her magnificent ass. Rio swallowed, steadying herself for something reckless.
In moments like these, adrenaline coursing through her, heart beating so wildly in her chest, she remembered that for everything else she was, for everything else she had to do, this part of her was alive.
Not allowing herself time to reconsider, Rio approached Agatha. When she was close enough to reach out, she did. Fingers slipping through dark hair to caress the curve of her spine. She felt rather than heard Agatha’s shaky exhale.
Rio stroked up and down, once, twice, three times. To her slight surprise Agatha didn’t rebuff her, instead she turned around to stare directly into her Rio’s. Those blue eyes had haunted her for centuries. She’d seen them burn with rage and hatred, seen them filled with pain and regret, seen unshed tears and bone chilling fear. She’d seen those eyes alight with happiness too, sparkling with mischief or lit with joy. And she seen them darken with desire, the blue deepening, pupils dilating to an almost indigo hue.
Staring into those eyes now, Rio saw a wave of conflicting emotions, like a storm in those shining orbs. So many people assumed Agatha was nothing more a callous, heartless, power-hungry monster. That she didn’t or couldn’t feel, her heart cold and black. But Rio knew better than most, that a black heart did not mean one didn’t feel. And for those that knew where to look, Agatha could not hide her emotions.
Without a word, Agatha's face softened, her gaze devouring every detail of Rio’s face before pulling her into an embrace.
Rio didn’t hesitate. She returned the embrace, pulling Agatha into her, wrapping her up.
The warmth of Agatha’s body seeped into her, through her. She felt every point where their bodies pressed together. Fingers caressed the back of Rio’s scalp, and it sent a wave of longing straight through her. Even without her magic, Agatha’s somehow smelled of the intoxicating scent Rio had always associated with dark violet spells and crackling power.
Too soon, Agatha was pulling back, and though Rio didn’t want to, she allowed it. Something in her chest ached when, instead of retreating entirely, Agatha took hold of Rio’s face.
Those eyes, full of longing, of remorse, of gratitude and something that seemed dangerously like love.
Rio blinked, feeling herself falling once again under Agatha’s spell. The feeling in her chest intensified as Agatha leaned in again, her gaze now fixed on Rio’s mouth. Rio wanted it. Wanted her. Wanted it so badly that her entire body, her entire being ached with it. In all of her very long life, there had never been anyone else. Only Agatha. Time, nor circumstance, nor their very destiny could change it.
She might’ve been sent to kill Agatha. But Rio knew she’d never be able to do it. She would rather burn for eternity.
When Agatha’s mouth was mere inches from hers, Rio knew she had to stop it. No matter how badly she wanted to feel Agatha’s lips on hers, taste her, devour her really. It couldn’t be like this. Rio knew Agatha, probably better than anyone ever had or ever would. And she knew how Agatha felt about the kid, the hope that had wormed its way into her. She’d seen it in the way Agatha looked at him. How her fear and despair had poured out of her as the boy lay dying.
Please, don’t.
Two simple words, a begging plea.
It was like be flayed open, having a stake driven through her dark heart, reliving the worst memories of her existence.
Of course she could’ve allowed him to die. Perhaps even should've. But Agatha's plea had been enough to curtail even her darkest impulses.
But now she needed to set the record straight. She couldn’t go on this way, couldn’t allow Agatha to get her hopes up like this. It would hurt her now, Rio knew. But it would be better than the alternative.
“Agatha.”
Rio steeled herself, whatever softness had just transpired would end the moment she uttered the truth. She noticed the slight shift in Agatha’s bearing as they looked deep into each other’s eyes. Of course Agatha knew her as well as Rio knew Agatha. Surely she could see the truth.
“That boy isn’t yours.” Rio said, keeping her voice calm but matter of fact.
Agatha’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her hands from Rio’s face.
Rio had been expecting it, yet it still stung.
They stared at each other for several long moments, then Agatha blinked back the emotions swimming in her eyes, and stepped around Rio.
Rio didn't stop her. She had to let Agatha come to terms with this on her own.
She heard soft footfalls against damp leaves as Agatha retreated. Rio exhaled, feeling herself slump with the weight of her own feelings. It felt a little like defeat.
After a few seconds Rio turned, needing one more glimpse of Agatha's retreating form.
Instead she found that Agatha had turned back. Frozen in shock Rio waited. Agatha was watching her, a strange expression on her face. Before Rio could decide her next move, Agatha was in front of her hands grabbing the front of her dirt smeared shirt and yanking Rio toward her.
They collided inelegantly. Agatha’s lips finding hers, nails scraping at the skin of Rio’s chest. Rio gasped slightly, but recovered quickly as Agatha claimed her mouth. Rio wrapped one arm around her back, fingers splaying over a slim waist. The other hand wound into dark tresses at the nape of Agatha’s neck.
There was nothing soft or gentle in the kiss. Teeth scrapped lips, tongues fought for dominance, lips were bruised with the force of their longing. It was desperate, hungry, wanton. Rio pulled Agatha impossibly closer, determined to devour her as their mouths worked feverishly together. Hands roamed, stroked, caressed, and they kissed.
When oxygen became an issue, they wrenched apart, both panting for breath. For a moment their eyes met, and Rio was sure Agatha would pull away, retreat, but instead she offered a rare smile.
Rio felt something erupt in her chest, like a great monstrous beast, roaring in pleasure and triumph.
Rio slid a hand to the side of Agatha’s face and leaned in for another kiss. She couldn't help herself. This time, it was softer, both of their lips now swollen from the force of their passion. Pulling back she stared into those blue eyes that she still loved so much.
“I knew he wasn’t Nicky.” Agatha said on an exhale.
Rio waited, sensing more.
“But he reminds me of what he could’ve been. I didn’t protect Nicky, but maybe I can protect him.”
Rio gave a small nod. Though somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if Agatha would feel the same once she truth of the boy came to light. But that wasn’t her place to divulge. When the sigil was broken the truth would come, and Rio would be there to mitigate or inflict the damage. Pushing that from her mind she focused her entire attention back on her witch.
“I’m sorry.” Rio whispered.
It wasn’t the first time she’d said the words. Though it was perhaps the most sincere she’d ever been.
“Rio, I can’t talk about him…” Agatha said, her voice still full of anguish.
Rio nodded, stroking her thumb over Agatha’s cheek.
“Okay.”
They stayed silent for a few minutes, both lost to thoughts and memories, though not yet willing to completely break the connection.
Rio continued her soft caresses, and never once looked away from the face she’d dreamed of for so long.
Finally Agatha broke the silence.
“Thank you.” She said, without looking at Rio.
“For what?”
“For allowing Jen to save him. I know you didn’t have to.”
Rio simply nodded, then pressed a kiss to Agatha’s forehead. It was true of course. She typically relished the death of another, often yearning for violence and bloodshed. That was her nature after all, and it could be intoxicating. Yet it would never be an intoxicating as Agatha Harkness. Even if she'd only ever admitted that to herself.
"I wanted to. For you." Rio whispered.
Agatha's expression was so tender, it made Rio's heart ache.
They had a long road ahead still and Rio had no idea what would happen at the end of it. She’d been sent to kill Agatha, and until about fifteen minutes ago, Rio had been sure that Agatha wanted to end her. But something had shifted. In sparing teen’s life, their story had changed, and now they were in uncharted territory.
Agatha pressed her lips to Rio’s once more, firm but swift, then retreated.
Rio felt the absence in ever fiber of her body.
But just as suddenly, Agatha’s hand found Rio’s, her fingers twining them together. Warmth spread from that simple point of contact.
Whatever awaited them, they’d face it.
Hand in hand, they set off toward the rest of the coven, ready to walk down the road, together.