Work Text:
The lighting in the den was always dull. They lived bathed in yellow lamplights, battery-powered neon signs, and flickering fires that kept them warm. The ground and countertops were dirty, covered in a fine layer of dust thanks to years of neglect. The air smelled cold, and stale. But the harsh elements outside couldn't reach them there, and the harsher population of government and police presence were oblivious to their residence. The dank, abandoned property was home.
It was the closest to home many of them ever had.
But even in the dim lights, looking into the dirty, broken mirror upstairs, there were reminders of the lives they had fled. There was a hand on her shoulder, one that was gentle and deliberate. A warning that in a few seconds, the buzz they both hated would flood the room. Lena tilted her head slightly to the side. She felt fingertips rake through her hair, pulling back the strands that would be spared the cut. Then, as the twisting dread in her gut just about boiled over, the machine was pressed against the side of her skull.
She was plunged instantly into black. Into the past. The buzzing of a dozen clippers around her, shaking breaths, silent sobs. Her eyes opened, the mirror was there again. There were doodles in the corner, little smiley faces and peace signs, done in signature colors of her friends. When she closed her eyes again, it was fluorescent lights beating down with the power of a thousand suns. Open, and she was with Kali once more. Doe eyes were watching her reflection in the mirror, sympathy and knowing complimented by unwavering determination.
Lena lifted her hand to rest over the one on her shoulder. A pinky finger crossed over hers, and the rapid beating of her heart began to ebb.
Two swipes past. A few more seconds and the uneven batches were cleaned up. Then the hand was tilting her head the opposite way, combing back the pieces that would remain long. A moment of respite, and the buzzing was back. The white lights, flickering when too much power was drawn. The hair falling around her shoulders for the very first time. The knowledge that they would never find what they were after, not with her. Those powers they wanted to study were not innate in Lena. They were a curse, fallen dormant when Vecna lost his hold of her.
At the time, she'd believed they would never come back. Oh, how wrong she had been.
When the buzzing finally stopped, a choked sound slipped from Lena's throat. She opened her eyes, blinked tears from long eyelashes, and breathed through her open mouth until the stinging in her throat went away. Two hands held her shoulders now, and each squeeze reminded her of the ground she stood on. Of who was at her back.
Her hands were trembling. Lena curled fingertips around the hem of her shorts, dug her nails into the denim and held fast, until the shaking began to fade. That had been the easy part. She could sit through it a dozen times over again. The part she dreaded would come when they swapped seats. They'd been through hell and back together, but being the one to ignite those memories never became easier. It was the simple knowledge that Kali was trusting her that made her stand, slow and steady, and move to a place behind the chair so Kali could sit.
As soon as their new positions were established, Lena snaked her arms around the young woman's shoulders. She could feel the beat of her heart, powerful and heartbreakingly fast beneath her palm. A soft kiss was pressed just beneath Kali's ear, where a tattoo of snake-eyed dice depicted her tricky luck. "It's getting so long," Lena uttered, bringing a hand to the ends of her partner's hair. It reached her mid-back now, a blessing after what had been done.
A trembling sigh was the cue to go on. Lena stood herself up straight and reached for the clippers. They were easier to handle than she'd once expected. A small button on the side ignited the horrific sound. The buzz of the device made her fingers numb. But just as Kali had done with her, she used her free hand to tilt her head to the side, and began the careful process of shaving down the undercut that had gotten a bit too long. Dark snippets fell across her hands, her wrists, the jacket she'd stolen to wear. They scattered across Kali's shoulders, beneath the lip of her collar.
It took no longer than a minute, maybe two. When the machine was turned off, Kali was trembling worse than before, and Lena's chest ached with the weight of responsibility. Every few weeks, when it came time to clean up the looks they'd chosen, they would do it again. And with each haircut, it became a little bit easier. But it still demanded understanding, patience, sympathy. So when the device clattered to the ground, Lena was quick to slip her arms around the woman once more. She felt Kali turn, felt a face half-buried in her shoulder, and for a long moment, they sat still like that.
Eventually, the silence settled. The chatter of their friends could be heard from the rickety poker table downstairs. Lena felt a shift, then lips against her cheek, as they exchanged proud whispers of, 'hey, you did it.' Then they were up on wobbly legs, faces stained with fallen tears, and the itchy little bits of hair were tediously brushed from each other's shoulders. There were no working showers there, but gentle hands and some new clothes would get the job done well enough.
And when all was said and finally done, they made their way back downstairs, where the rowdy four made it impossible to dwell on the haunting past.