Chapter Text
“The funeral is tomorrow at 10. I want everyone here at 8am sharp. Colors on. No weapon. Look presentable people. I must remind you that we’re not the only family that lost someone, these people, as much as I don’t agree how they treated Fox, are still her blood family, she still had contact with them. Like us they wanted her to come back home. So be civilised, be compassionate. We’re all grieving, we all miss her. You all get the rest of the day off, see you all tomorrow at 8. And remember I am here if any one of you needs to talk it out. Meeting’s over.”
Cleon stepped down from the box she was standing on with Swan’s help. The Riffs had messed her up pretty bad during the night from hell and she still had a limp in her left leg even four days later. Swan, who hadn’t left her side since that night, didn’t seem to mind being used as a crutch from time to time, like whenever they had to climb the stairs to their apartment. Mercy didn’t look that happy to barely have any alone time with Swan, but she hadn’t said anything yet even when being asked about it. Cleon did try to convince Swan she wouldn’t disappear the moment the warchief’s eyes weren’t on her, but Swan had always been quite stubborn.
While her crew was moving away from the meeting, the Warlord made sure to check on all of them. The majority of her Warriors were doing okay considering the circumstances, some of them had already lost people close to them before, some barely knew Fox, but the most affected were the six other warriors that were with Fox the night she died.
Cochise did her best to take care of the others as much as she could. She did let some of her sadness and frustration with the situation show, but most of it was bottled up until she was alone with Cleon, Swan and Cowgirl. The second night, when none of them could find sleep, they found each other on the rooftop of their apartment building. They shared a bottle of vodka while sharing stories about Fox. Cleon, Cochise and Cowgirl laughing and crying the whole way through while Swan smiled from time to time. Just before they made their way back to their respective places, Cochise had brought Cleon in a tight hug and told her “I’m saying this as a friend. Do not ever disappear like that ever again or I’ll kick your ass so hard the Riffs will look like angels.” Cleon had just laughed and hugged Cochise even tighter. Other nights, they had called each other, even if they lived one door away from one another, and talked sometimes about that night, sometimes about their past lives with the Destroyers and sometimes about nothing really important other than talking to the person at the other side of the line. So Cleon knew Cochise would be okay.
For people that didn’t know her, Cowgirl gave the impression she was just “enjoying life more” as she would say. It wasn’t rare these days to see her come back at three in the morning completely drunk and out of it. Most people would think she was a normal old Cowgirl just partying, but Cleon knew the alcohol wasn’t just for fun. It had happened before, just before Cowgirl became a Warrior she had a very messy break up with a toxic man and had spent a few weeks at Cochise apartment that Cleon shared with her back then. Just like that time, Cowgirl was drinking to numb the pain of losing someone she loved. She wasn’t as flirtatious as she used to, her laugh sounded more hollow than before. But Cleon knew she was strong, that she knew her limits and that she would get back on her feet. It wasn't looking good at the moment, but eventually they would get their Cowgirl back.
They had busted Ajax out of prison the day after they came home. At first, the enforcer had tried to blame Swan, even going as far as jumping her in front of everyone. Cleon had let them both throw a few punches, knowing very well they both needed it, before breaking the fight. Since then, Ajax looked miserable. Cleon had refused to let her go on mission considering Ajax would snap off at anyone for any random reason. The rest of the warriors didn’t deserve to be yelled at for nothing and the warlord would not let anyone go on mission by themselves, so Ajax was benched until Rembrandt, the only one she was still on good terms with, would have to go on a tagging mission. Cleon didn’t like seeing Ajax acting like a caged animal all day but she didn’t know what else to do. She had tried speaking with the enforcer, proposed to do some sparring with her even, but she quickly realised something had broken between them. Ajax did what she was told by respect for her chief, but the love that once was out in the open was now behind numerous walls. Cleon didn’t know how, but she would fight with all her might to bring these walls down and find her Ajax.
At least Ajax had Rembrandt. From what Cleon saw, Rembrandt acted weirdly normal for the situation. Normal wasn’t the word, more like in another world, one where Fox was just gone on a mission for longer than usual. Rembrandt made sure Swan and Cleon took breaks from time to time, took care of Ajax when she got in fights, and even helped Mercy settle in her new apartment. No one really dared talk to her about Fox, but Cleon hadn’t seen any emotions in the tagger’s face while she was giving her speech just now. It was as if talking about Fox’s death brought Rembrandt out of her own body, only to let her come back like nothing happened right after. Cleon knew she would have to do something to make Rembrandt react, to make her know she’s allowed to grieve like everyone else, but she also knew it would be hard, not only on her and Rembrandt but on all the warriors.
And then there was Swan. She was acting strong and unbothered, but Cleon knew her girl. Deep inside she was still the kid she found under the boardwalk, scared, unnerved, ready to run for her life at any moment. But it was different now. Back then Swan was alone, she only relied on herself and no one was expecting anything of her. These days she was Cleon’s second, her literal shadow, she had the warriors to take care of. Cleon knew how guilty Swan felt about that night, about Fox’s death. It took the warlord and Mercy a lot of hard work for Swan to even accept to talk about what happened and when she did, the conversation ended with the warchief crying in both their arms. Swan would get back on her feet eventually, Mercy helped her a lot with letting go of the guilt. But somewhere deep inside, Cleon was afraid Swan would forever hold this anxiety in her.
The voice of her second took Cleon out of her head “You think they'll be fine?”
Swan was, just like the Warlord, examining their crew, her gaze currently fixated on Rembrandt and Ajax talking between them. Ajax was resting her back on a nearby tree, arms crossed and anger painting her face. Rembrandt was standing in front of her, fidgeting with one of her rings, seemingly trying to appease the enforcer the best she could.
Cleon looked at them, then back at Swan, pondering her answer for an instant. Would any of them ever be fine or would there always be a Fox shape hole in their heart. “You think you'll be?”
Swan looked down and didn’t answer, not even looking at Cleon when the warlord took her hand and squeezed it.
“Grief is different for everyone, but it's easier together. I’m not certain of anything kid but I know this. As long as we’re together, we’ll be okay.” Swan squeezed back still looking at the ground.
Amongst the chaos of the warriors talking in small groups, they both heard Mercy arguing loudly with another warrior, their head turned to the sound. Swan rolled her eyes at her not-yet-girlfriend and almost moved to go get her until her gaze met Cleon’s.
The Warlord smiled at her and nodded towards Mercy as she let go of Swan’s hand. “Go free poor Vermine from our newest member.”
Swan frowned, still unmoving until Cleon gently shoved her in Mercy and Vermine’s direction.
“Go. I'll be okay. We'll meet up at home.”
Cleon watched as her second in command physically removed Mercy from the situation by pulling by the arm. Mercy seemed to follow without resistance but still argued with Vermine until they were too far away to hear each other.
Once everyone had moved on, Cleon made her way to a local bar she once was a usual at. She could have gone back to her place and gotten some sleep before the exhausting day tomorrow was sure to be. She could have, probably should have. But going home meant being surrounded by people that depended on her, and as much as she loved them, she needed a night for her, a moment to grief away from prying eyes and mournful sighs. So she sat down at her old booth, smiled politely at the waitress and drank until her mind got fuzzy, letting her sadness swallow her for just an instant.
When she stumbled home later that night, a very worried Swan was waiting for her next to a sleeping Mercy on the couch. As Swan opened her mouth to talk, Cleon bursted out laughing, waking up Mercy and taking Swan aback.
Swan lifted an eyebrow, confused “What’s so funny?”
“You look like an angry mom.” Cleon barely managed to calm herself to answer.
“Do not.”
“Ya you do”
“You’re just drunk.”
“Yea I am. But you do look like a very angry mom. Am I past my bedtime?” Cleon teased.
Swan sighed as she put an arm around Cleon to help her move to her bed “C’mon Cleon. We have to get up early tomorrow.” Cleon let herself be dragged to her bedroom with a smile as Mercy just stared at both of them, not really used to seeing the warlord in that state.
Once she knew she was close enough to her bed, Cleon let herself fall on it, her face being squished by her pillow while Swan watched making sure she was okay. Swan tried to put Cleon in her pajamas but the warlord was no help at all, almost passed out on the mattress. Swan settled to at least making her sleep on her side just to be sure. As she moved to get up after she was done with her task, Cleon weakly held her wrist and stared at her with half open eyes.
“Hey Swan. It’s not your fault.”
Swan looked at the woman that gave her her name and took care of her for years and for the first time, she simply couldn’t believe her. So she covered her in blankets and kissed her forehead like Cleon did for her when Swan had nightmares in the early years. “Goodnight Cleon.”
A barely audible “‘night” came from under the blanket quickly followed by a light snoring as Swan closed the door and made her way to her own bed where Mercy was waiting for her.
Swan took off her clothes and gladly accepted the embrace of both her bed and Mercy’s arms. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the warchief nuzzled against Mercy’s neck and let the other woman hold her close. As they slowly drifted to sleep, Mercy whispered “For what it’s worth, you did look like an angry mom”.
Swan snorted before she retorted “shut up” in a fake annoyed voice.