Work Text:
Columbina had seen many strange things in her long existence as a Harbinger. Divine anomalies. Reality-bending phenomena. Dottore's experiments gone horrifically right.
But walking into Sandrone's workshop to find a small, irritated-looking brown cat sitting on the workbench—puppet joints visible at its tiny paws, miniature gears clicking softly with each movement—was new.
"Sandrone?" she ventured.
The cat's ears flattened. It hissed.
"I'll take that as a yes."
HISSSSS.
Columbina approached slowly, hands raised in a placating gesture. "What happened? An experiment? A curse? Did Dottore—"
The cat—Sandrone, because who else would have mechanical joints and that particular brand of outrage in their glare—turned around and presented her with her back, tail lashing.
"I see we're being mature about this," Columbina said mildly.
The tail lashed harder.
"Well, you can't stay like this. And since you clearly can't fix it yourself in this state..." Columbina reached out carefully, "...you're coming with me."
The moment her fingers touched soft fur, Sandrone-cat whirled around, claws out. She managed to scratch Columbina's hand before Columbina scooped her up, ignoring the indignant yowl.
"Yes, yes, you're very fierce and independent," Columbina cooed, tucking the hissing, wriggling ball of fury against her chest. "Now let's get you somewhere safe before Dottore decides to study you."
MRRROW!
"Exactly. So stop fighting me."
The cat bit her arm. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make a point.
Columbina's quarters were significantly more comfortable than Sandrone's workshop. Softer lighting. Actual furniture that wasn't covered in grease. A bed that looked like it had been used in the past month.
She set Sandrone-cat down on the bed carefully.
Immediately, the cat bolted under it.
"Sandrone, don't be difficult."
A low growl emanated from beneath the bed frame.
"I'm trying to help you. You can't stay a cat forever." Columbina knelt down, peering into the shadows. Two glowing mechanical eyes glared back at her. "Come out. I promise I won't—"
HISS.
"—touch you if you don't want me to," she finished patiently.
The eyes blinked. Once. Twice.
Then, slowly, a small black paw emerged. Then another. Then a whiskered face, expression distinctly suspicious.
"There you are." Columbina smiled. "See? Not so bad."
Sandrone-cat crept forward another inch. Then stopped.
"I won't grab you again. You have my word."
Another inch. Then another.
Finally, the cat was fully out from under the bed, sitting at a careful distance, tail wrapped around her paws. The mechanical joints at her legs clicked softly as she settled.
"Good." Columbina remained kneeling, making herself smaller, less threatening. "Now, I need to figure out what happened to you. Do you remember anything? Blink once for yes, twice for no."
Sandrone-cat stared at her.
"Sandrone, work with me here."
More staring.
"Fine. Were you working on something when it happened?"
One blink.
"Good! Was it intentional?"
Two blinks. Very emphatic two blinks.
"So an accident. Was anyone else involved?"
One blink. A pause. Then an angry mrow that clearly meant something along the lines of "wait until I get my hands on whoever did this."
"I'll take that as a yes and that you'd like to enact terrible vengeance."
MROW.
"Noted." Columbina stood slowly. "I'm going to look through your workshop logs. In the meantime, you should rest. Being transformed is probably exhausting."
She moved toward the door, but a plaintive mew stopped her.
When she turned back, Sandrone-cat was standing, one paw raised, looking simultaneously furious about what she was about to do and desperate enough to do it anyway.
"Do you... want me to stay?"
The cat's ears flattened. She looked away.
"Sandrone?"
The tiniest, most reluctant meow Columbina had ever heard.
Her heart melted. "Of course I'll stay. Let me just—"
But before she could finish, Sandrone-cat made a decision. With visible effort, she padded across the bed, climbed onto the pillow, and curled into a tight ball, mechanical joints tucking neatly beneath her.
One glowing eye remained open, fixed on Columbina. Watching. Waiting.
"You want me to come closer," Columbina realized.
The eye closed. Opened. Closed again.
"But you're too proud to ask properly."
Mrrp.
Columbina approached the bed, movements careful and slow. She sat on the edge, within reach but not touching.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, with what could only be described as extreme reluctance, Sandrone-cat uncurled slightly. Stretched one paw toward Columbina. Retracted it. Stretched it out again.
"May I?" Columbina asked softly.
The cat's tail twitched. Not a lash. Not a wag. Just... acknowledgment.
Columbina reached out and gently scratched behind one mechanical ear.
The effect was immediate and devastating.
Sandrone-cat's eyes closed. Her body relaxed. And then—horror of horrors—she started purring. Loudly. The mechanical joints amplified the sound, turning it into a soft, rhythmic clicking-purr that filled the room.
"Oh, Sandrone," Columbina said, trying very hard not to laugh. "You're adorable."
The purring stopped abruptly. One eye opened, glaring.
"I mean terrifying. Very terrifying."
The eye closed. The purring resumed, somehow even louder and more indignant.
Sandrone-cat had opinions about many things.
She had opinions about the food Columbina offered (dry rations from the Fatui kitchens earned a disdainful sniff and a turned back; fresh fish from the market earned a grudging few bites).
She had opinions about being picked up (absolutely not unless she initiated it, and even then only for precisely thirty seconds before she started squirming).
She had opinions about Columbina leaving the room (expressed through plaintive meowing and scratching at the door until Columbina returned).
And she had strong opinions about other people.
When Arlecchino stopped by to discuss mission logistics, Sandrone-cat took one look at her and immediately puffed up to twice her size, back arched, hissing like a demon.
"Is that—" Arlecchino stared. "Is that Sandrone?"
"Yes."
"She's a cat."
"Very observant."
"Why is she a cat?"
"Accident in her workshop. I'm handling it."
Sandrone-cat's hissing increased in volume and intensity.
"She seems well-adjusted," Arlecchino said dryly.
HISSSSSS.
"Could you perhaps come back later?" Columbina suggested. "She's a bit territorial right now."
"Territorial. Right." Arlecchino wisely retreated. "Tell her when she's human again, I expect a full report on whatever experiment caused this."
The door closed. Immediately, Sandrone-cat deflated, looking extremely pleased with herself.
"You can't hiss at everyone who visits," Columbina chided gently.
Mrow. (Translation: Watch me.)
"What if Capitano stops by?"
The cat's ears perked up slightly. A considering pause. Then a decisive mrrp that seemed to mean "acceptable."
"What about Dottore?"
Every hair on Sandrone-cat's body stood on end. She made a sound that was less meow and more demon-screech.
"Also acceptable," Columbina agreed. "We can hiss at Dottore."
The cat settled, looking satisfied.
Columbina woke to the sound of distressed meowing.
She sat up immediately, finding Sandrone-cat at the foot of the bed, pacing anxiously, tail lashing.
"Sandrone? What's wrong?"
Mrow mrow mrow, the cat cried, voice plaintive and frustrated. She pawed at her own face, at her mechanical joints, at the air—clearly trying to express something complex and failing with her limited feline vocabulary.
"I know," Columbina said softly. "I know it's frustrating. Not being able to speak. Not being able to work. Being trapped in this form."
The cat's ears drooped. She sat down heavily, looking small and miserable.
"But we'll fix this. I promise." Columbina reached out slowly. "May I?"
After a moment, Sandrone-cat padded over and, with extreme reluctance, climbed into Columbina's lap.
"There we go." Columbina stroked her back gently, feeling the mechanical joints click beneath soft fur. "You're still you, you know. Cat or human. Still the most brilliant, stubborn, prideful person I've ever met."
A soft mrrp that might have been agreement or protest.
"And still terrible at accepting help."
Definite protest. A paw batted at Columbina's hand, claws carefully retracted.
"But you're getting better." Columbina scratched under the cat's chin. "You let me bring you here. You asked me to stay. You let me take care of you. That's progress, Sandy."
The cat's purring started up again, quieter this time. Almost... content.
"When you're human again, you'll probably pretend none of this happened."
Mrrp. (Translation: Absolutely.)
"You'll go back to your workshop and claim you had everything under control."
Mrow. (Obviously.)
"But I'll remember." Columbina's voice softened. "I'll remember that you trusted me enough to be vulnerable. Even if you had no choice."
Sandrone-cat looked up at her with those glowing mechanical eyes. For a moment, something painfully human flickered in them.
Then she bumped her head against Columbina's hand. Once. Twice.
"I love you too," Columbina whispered.
The cat's purring intensified. She kneaded Columbina's lap with her paws, mechanical joints clicking rhythmically.
"Even when you're hissy and difficult."
Hiss. But it was halfhearted.
"Even when you bite me."
A gentle nibble on her finger. Not breaking skin. Just... acknowledging.
"Even when you're insufferably independent and refuse help and act like you don't need anyone."
The cat climbed up Columbina's chest and pressed her face into the crook of her neck, purring so loudly it vibrated through both of them.
"Especially then," Columbina finished, wrapping her arms carefully around the small, warm body. "Especially then."
The transformation wore off suddenly and without warning.
One moment, Columbina was reading through Sandrone's workshop logs, cat curled in her lap. The next moment, she had an entire human woman sprawled across her, still making that mechanical purring sound.
"Oh," Sandrone said, voice hoarse from a day of meowing. "I'm me again."
"So it seems."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
"I should—" Sandrone started to pull away.
Columbina's arms tightened around her. "Should what? Go back to your workshop and pretend this never happened?"
"...Yes?"
"No."
"No?"
"No." Columbina's voice was firm. "You're going to stay right here. You're going to rest. You're going to let me take care of you for at least another hour. And then—only then—will I let you return to your workshop to enact terrible vengeance on whoever did this to you."
Sandrone's face flushed. "I'm not a cat anymore. You can't just—"
"Can't I?" Columbina tilted her head. "You climbed into my lap yourself. You purred when I scratched behind your ears. You meowed at me when I tried to leave. You even kneaded my chest with your little paws—"
"Stop." Sandrone buried her face in Columbina's shoulder. "Stop talking."
"You were adorable."
"I was not—"
"Hissy and cuddly and so very needy."
"I will murder you."
"You'll try." Columbina pressed a kiss to her temple. "But first, you'll rest. Because you've been through something traumatic and exhausting, and I'm not letting you work until you've recovered."
"You can't make me—"
"Sandrone." Columbina's voice softened. "Please. For me. Just rest for a little while."
Sandrone was quiet for a long moment. Then, with a sigh that was almost a purr: "Fine. One hour."
"Two hours."
"One and a half."
"Deal." Columbina shifted them both so they were lying down properly, Sandrone tucked securely against her side. "And Sandrone?"
"What?"
"If you start purring again, I'm never letting you forget it."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I tolerate you."
"You love me."
A pause. Then, so quietly Columbina almost missed it: "...Maybe."
"I love you too." Columbina kissed her forehead. "Even when you're hissy."
"Especially when I'm hissy," Sandrone corrected, but there was no heat in it.
"Especially then," Columbina agreed.
And if, later, when Sandrone had fallen asleep, she made a sound suspiciously like a purr—well.
Columbina would keep that secret to herself.
(At least until the next tea party.)
It turned out Dottore had been testing a new transformation serum and "accidentally" left it near Sandrone's workspace.
By the time Sandrone hunted him down, she'd designed seventeen new automaton models specifically for torture purposes.
Columbina had to physically restrain her (which mostly involved scritches behind the ears and gentle reminders that murder of fellow Harbingers required paperwork).
"You're lucky she loves you," Dottore told Columbina later.
"I know," Columbina said serenely.
From somewhere nearby came an indignant hiss.
They both turned to find Sandrone standing in the hallway, arms crossed, glaring.
"Did you just—" Dottore started.
"No," Sandrone snapped.
"You did. You hissed. Like a—"
"Finish that sentence and your next experiment will be testing whether you can survive without a spinal cord."
Dottore wisely retreated.
Columbina just smiled and offered her hand. After a moment of reluctance, Sandrone took it.
"You're never speaking of this again," Sandrone muttered.
"Of course not."
"I mean it."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"...Thank you. For taking care of me."
"Always." Columbina squeezed her hand. "Cat or human. Hissy or cuddly. Always."
Sandrone's face burned, but she didn't let go of Columbina's hand.
And if she leaned slightly into Columbina's touch as they walked—if she made a sound suspiciously like a contented purr—
Well.
That was just between them.