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Gideon took a deep, shuddering breath, sitting up and stretching. That was still really fucking weird, needing to breathe. She was fuzzy on the details, but she had confirmed that she was really, truly alive again. Her first order of business had been to take a nap, which she'd just awoken from. Now, with her head pounding, she got up in search of something to eat. Real food, because if she ever had to go back to eating snow leeks again, she might find another fence to fall on.
Okay, probably not. Dying had sucked, and she was pretty sure she'd piss off at least one person if she did that again. A person she was not avoiding, thank you very much. She was just not really sure what to say to Harrow, and had other things to focus on first.
Like a body that was very much getting used to living again. And being allowed to wear whatever she wanted.
That was why, on her way through the confusing halls of the space station she was pretty sure Harrow's girlfriend had taken over or some shit, she ducked into an empty room when she heard footsteps approaching her. There were a few other people on here with them; Pyrrha was here, which she had complicated feelings about, ditto Paul, she'd heard Ianthe and Coronabeth were here somewhere, and maybe others were running around too.
She slipped behind the door, leaving it open but pressing against the wall so that she would be hidden even if someone looked in. Whoever was out there, she was not in the mood to chat right now. Only once she was sure she was hidden did she glance around the room. Where she spotted Harrowhark, dressed all in black, seated at a table and looking at some paper. Fuck.
"Griddle?" Harrow stood hastily, the veil over her face covering up whatever expression she was wearing.
Gideon winced, her shoulders tense. Since coming back to life, she'd realized just how intense being alive was. Everything was stronger. Her feelings included. Were they this strong before? How had she never noticed? There was a sinking feeling in her chest as she looked at Harrow. She expected anger, for Harrow to march right over and start yelling or pick a fight or one of any number of other things that didn't include the way she was actually pulling her veil back to look up at Gideon with Gideon's eyes and—was that a smile on her face? What kind of evil was she planning?
"Hey, Harrow. Good to see you. I totally didn't mean to come in here and interrupt you. Looks like you were doing something important, so I'll just get out of your way," she said, edging around the door in an attempt to get out of the room.
"Gideon, wait," Harrow said, slim hand reaching out to grasp the edge of Gideon's jacket. It was blue, and a size too small, and as far from anything she'd had to wear for either the Ninth or the First as she could get with what they already had on the station. "I've been waiting for you."
"Look, Nonagesimus, I'm not really in the mood for a fight right now. Okay? We can have this fight another time, like… after I've eaten. I'm sorry I fucked everything up for you. It seems like that's just my life, one big fucking fuck up after another. I haven't figured out what I want to do with my, what is this, third chance? Fourth? Nine hundredth? I'm not sure if any of the times I definitely died and came back as a kid count, you know?" Gideon tried to escape her (former?) necromancer's grasp.
"Shut up, Griddle." Harrow's voice wasn't icy or unkind like she expected it to be. She held fast to Gideon's jacket, not letting her go. "I'm not trying to fight you. I want to talk to you. It's been too long since we've talked."
Yeah, right. That was a trap if Gideon had ever heard one. "Where's Alecto? Figured you'd be pretty much glued to her side."
Harrow shrugged, looking up at Gideon searchingly. Gideon didn't know how she felt about that look. What was she looking for? What did she want? "She has left the station. She said she had things to do. I'm not her keeper, nor do I possess the ability to prevent her from doing anything."
Gideon sighed, looking away. She'd wanted to make some sarcastic comment, but it wouldn't leave her mouth. "Yeah. Okay, look. You're not going to let me go, and I don't know what you want other than for me to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, Harrow. I knew it was the worst thing I could do but what other choice was there? I'm sorry that everything got all fucked up."
"Why are you apologizing? Quit that immediately," Harrow answered sternly. "You don't have anything to apologize for. I'm the one who got you killed and continued to use you after your death. I've missed you. Life is meaningless without you."
"Ugh, don't start—don't talk like that. It'd be better if you just shoved me down and summoned a bunch of skeletons to kill me. Easier, even." She sank to the floor with her back against the wall, still not looking at Harrow. Guilt and fear gnawed at her. How was this going to go wrong? How was she going to fuck this up?
Harrow, surprising her to the point that her heart nearly stopped again, crawled into her lap. She pressed her head to Gideon's chest, right over her heart, and sighed. "It really worked… Griddle…"
That was the absolute last thing Gideon had expected her to do. Hesitantly, her arms wrapped around Harrow, half expecting to get told off for it. But Harrow just snuggled into her arms, sighing. "…If you ever do that to me again, I'm going to track down every last bit of your soul and contain it in a stapes that I will wear on a string over my heart."
For a Nonagesimus threat, that one was pretty mild, Gideon had to admit. "I don't plan on doing it again. Is this—what are we doing?"
Harrow didn't answer right away, letting the quiet sounds of their breathing fill the room. Someone walked by, and only after they were gone did she get her answer. "Anything we want, Gideon."