Work Text:
In the outskirts of New York City was a towering forest. Within sat a Victorian mansion, an awe-inspiring structure of darkened windows and imposing turrets. Beyond the empty club housed within its walls, up a staircase that groaned as the house settled, was a warm A-frame bedroom. The attic. Golden sunlight streamed through an angled window. As it rested on Ax’s eyes, she began to stir. Her arm shifted, reaching across the bed, finding nothing where Nyx should have been.
She rolled onto her back, staring vacantly at the ceiling. A misty memory, she wondered if she had only been in love with just a dream. She couldn't have blamed her for leaving. Nyx had responsibilities, her own design studio awaited her across the country. Rage and lust had consumed Ax's heart, rotting her to the point where she had not even gotten to tell her how proud she was of her.
Throwing the covers off, she pulled on a black linen shirt and pants, and trudged to the bathroom. Her gaunt reflection stared back at her, she existed in the ashes of violence. She collected scars as if to prove to everyone that she did not deserve to be loved. Her nose was crooked from being broken so many times, but Nyx had always kissed the tip anyway. A faded scar from a knife fight settled against her cheek, but Nyx had always traced it gently with her finger anyway. Her hair had grown out terribly long now, and she missed feeling Nyx's soft hands tangled in it. Her mouth twisted into a scowl, but Nyx would have kissed her anyway until she smiled. Her sunken eyes seemed perpetually exhausted, but Nyx had looked into them as if they held heaven.
She had done nothing to deserve the adoration Nyx had given her.
The sizzling sound of someone cooking downstairs snapped her out of her scrutiny. The scent of bacon wafted up and lured her down the wooden staircase, each step creaking beneath her feet.
Her hair gathered over her shoulder, obscuring her face. The otherwise pink dyed tips of her hair looked more of a peach color in the sunlit kitchen. She wore only a pair of shorts and one of Ax’s button-ups. She must have been dreaming. She wished Nyx would turn around and look at her.
"Good morning," Nyx murmured, keeping her attention to the stove. "I made you coffee."
Her sotto voice calmed her heart as it had pounded within her ribcage as she fought every part of her that screamed inside to tell Nyx to leave, that she wasn't safe, she would never be safe.
Ax moved across the cold tile floor to sit down at the table. Her lithe fingers wrapped around the warm americano, rich caramel notes embraced her as she took a sip. Delightful, lovely, wonderful, just like Nyx.
"I thought you had a red eye flight."
"I wanted to stay." She said, transferring the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate. "I'm able to work remotely."
Nyx could feel Ax’s eyes boring into her as she cracked eggs over the frying pan. She knew that eventually she'd have to return to her life in Portland, but for the time being all she wanted was to make sure Ax found serenity.
Ignoring the burning of her gaze, she finished making their breakfast.
Ax haunted her own home, and for a moment Nyx had wondered if she had ever been in the kitchen with her at all.
Garden
was all Nyx managed to hear as her steps echoed down the hallway.
She sighed. Setting down the plates on the table, she pulled open what she thought was a shallow drawer only to find that the drawer itself was a tray, a handle hidden away on the other side.
Setting the plates onto the tray, she took Ax's abandoned glass mug to make her another americano. Then, she made herself an iced latte. Cold and sweet. Ax came to mind.
The dewy grass felt soft under Ax’s feet as she navigated her way through the sprawling backyard. Slate stepping stones led her through an archway entwisted with vines. In a little grotto, an antique iron table sat neatly with two mismatched chairs. One a wooden kitchen chair, the other a metal bistro chair. White paint chipped off it as she sat down.
She embraced the early morning air, closing her eyes.
Shades of pink and purple flowers dotted overgrown bushes as Nyx walked through the garden. The cool morning air filled her lungs as she found Ax facing away from her in the grotto. She made no indication of acknowledgement as she set down their breakfast.
Like Orpheus, Ax felt as though if she turned around to face her, she would disappear. Nyx gently ran her hand across Ax’s shoulders as she glided behind her to sit across from her at the table. When she turned around, her Eurydice was nowhere to be found. Though they now sat across from one another, Nyx kept her head down as she ate, and Ax kept her head angled to the side, refusing to meet face to face.
Cooking for herself was one thing, but Ax could not remember the last time anyone had made a home cooked meal for her. Even one as simple as eggs and bacon. It was delicious, and she told her as much. Nyx thanked her quietly. She hoped next time she could cook for her. She hoped that she could show her old family recipes, and through the mess of pans and spoons and olive oil, she hoped she would see a smile spread across Nyx’s face as she tasted the most delectable fare.
The only sounds around them were chirping birds and the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze passed them by.
Nyx broke the silence. "How many?"
"Excuse me?"
"How many people have you killed since you've gotten out?"
Ax set her cup down, unanswering.
"You demanded I ask." Nyx lifted her head, catching the way she flinched slightly at the reminder. "So, tell me."
She gritted her teeth. The tranquil manner around them soured.
"Enough." She whispered, then spoke up. "I've done what I needed to do."
Nyx wondered if they were buried beneath the garden. She thought of the fear on Sloan and Asher’s faces when they told her how badly Ax had deteriorated; the way they begged her to redeem a woman who saw herself as irredeemable. The two of them were their own tragedies, Ax could not promise her a lovely, full life if she insisted Nyx not offer her the same.
"I really did come here because I was worried about you."
Ax knew that. Deep inside her rotten heart she knew that. Even if she still looked away, just by the softness in her tone, she could tell her eyes gazed at her with the same loving adoration she always did.
"Don't look at me like that."
She leaned forward. "How am I looking at you?"
Her jaw ticced. Nyx knew what she was doing, her audacious nature was something Ax adored about her. She was too tired to play games, and so she answered bluntly.
Turning her head, she finally met her eyes.
"As if I am worthy of your love."
The crack in Nyx's voice as she spoke next broke her heart.
"You are, Ax."
If there was no red thread that bound them together, Nyx would grab a string and do it herself. She would wind it around both of their wrists until it almost cut off circulation, she would tie it tightly and kiss the knots for good measure. Fate had no right to tell her who to love, she belonged to Ax since the moment they met.
"I fucking love you, Axelle." Her voice strained as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I always will. You can scream that you don't deserve it until your voice is sore, but that isn't going to change the fact that I love you."
Ax stared at her. Her chest rising and falling as she took her deep breaths.
Standing up slowly, she strided a few steps and met her side.
"Turn your chair around." She commanded. "Face me."
She did as she was told. Without thinking, she parted her legs. Ax knelt before her, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She held her close, listening carefully to Nyx's heart.
The steady rhythm kept her sane, a reminder that she was alive. As long as her heart continued beating, Ax would strive to build a beautiful life for the two of them. Her breath hitched as Nyx tangled her hands in her hair.
She felt like a monster with how tightly she clung to her. If the universe dared to try to take her away from her again, she would burn everything until the earth's core felt the same agony she did.
She relaxed her caress, but Nyx held onto her a little longer before following suit. Standing up, Ax offered her hand and pulled her up.
"Part of me hoped to dance with you at Cheryl's wedding." She admitted.
Nyx looked up at her, gazing into her honey colored eyes. She ran her hands up her arms, always breathtaken by the beauty of her tattoos. Ax wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against her. Their hands entwined as they swayed in the morning light.
Ax had the kind of smile that would be cruel not to kiss. She moved her hand from her waist to cup her cheek. The elder of the two leaned down, their lips meeting in tenderness.
"Tellement belle..." She whispered.
Nyx had never heard her speak a word of French before. Most of the time she forgot she was French at all. Her accent only seemed to make appearances in words that had the letter "R" in them. One day, Ax would take her to Paris. Show her somewhere new, where they would feel a strange relief as if that place, familiar to one but not the other, would somehow already feel like home.
As they danced, their noses touching as they gazed into one another's eyes, neither could help but hold each other in a tight embrace.
Though now the sun had properly begun its reign over the pastel blue sky, Ax closed her eyes and thought for a moment about what it would be like to make love to Nyx under the stars. Knowing she would cry Ax's name to the heavens, making sure God knew the name of the woman she loved. Maybe then Saint Peter would let Ax through the pearly gates.
Somewhere across the sea of time, a wedding awaited them. Ax would give her a beautiful ring of gold and sapphire. She would make herself worthy of Nyx’s love. They just had to keep going.