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Veklin stands there, trembling, the sound of the door thudding shut behind her echoing down the corridor. Her eyes sting and her cheek is throbbing dully. She can’t tell if it is blood or tears dripping down her face and soaking her collar. Her cardinal's words rattle round her mind, refusing to obey her commands to shut up. Veklin sets her jaw and squeezed her fists, relishing the prick of her nails in her palm. The human would pay for this, this mess she'd landed her in.
She strides through the corridors, hearts thudding loudly in her ears. Her eyes stay fixed ahead of her, her mind drifting to what she will do to Leela, and not on how familiar the path to her quarters feels. She didn’t bother to check anywhere else first. Leela would be here, she was sure of it. She always kept to her quarters after a mission.
Veklin reaches her door and wavers. Her armour weighs heavy on her after today and her muscles are begging for rest. No. Her lip curls slightly. This comes first.
She raises her fist and hammers on the gleaming door. A moment later, it slides open, and Leela barely has time to take a breath before Veklin steps over the threshold and takes hold of the fabric of her shirt, shoving her back against the cold metal of the wall opposite.
Leela stays silent, but her eyes glitter with amusement as she looks down into the snarling face of Veklin.
"You—you—" Veklin growls like the dog she is. "Because of your kindness, we failed the mission. If you hadn't—"
"All I remember is your explosives failing to go off," interrupts Leela, her eyes flicking to the thin red scratches on Veklin's cheek. She didn’t recall her having them when they'd arrived back on Gallifrey spans ago.
Veklin’s fists tighten and she is breathing harder, grasping for a response. This failure was not on her. "I don't—"
Leela doesn't let her finish. She leans down and swiftly drags Veklin into a kiss, sharp, and sweet with the faint taste of blood. Before Veklin can react, she has wrenched her wrists down away from her shirt and twisted round to slam her against the wall, one arm pinned above her head.
The clang of her armour hitting the wall is loud, but Veklin doesn’t flinch, instead kissing her back, deeper, her free arm grasping at Leela's shirt until she finds purchase on her sleeve. Leela's teeth grazing her lip, sharp enough to draw blood. Veklin tastes it, savouring the pain, and takes the opportunity to twist her arm free and slip her hands into Leela's loose waves of hair.
A growl rises in Leela's throat and she forces Veklin's head back against the wall, before she breaks off and meets her narrowed eyes. Veklin's head is hazy, pounding dully, but she shoves the pain away and pull Leela back in. Their lips meet messily, Veklin's hands tightening their grip in Leela's hair.
The room is hot, and Veklin's muscles are aching even more now. She doesn't care. She will win this. But Leela grabs her arms, fingers digging into her skin hard as she tears them away. A split second later, Veklin is in Leela's arms, the blade of her knife held against her throat. She freezes.
"Remember, Commander," Leela hisses in her ear. "You are nothing to your Ollistra. I've seen the way she looks at you. Her eyes hold no warmth, no care for—"
No. She won't hear these lies from the alien. Veklin jabs her elbow back sharply into Leela's stomach, but it isn't enough. Cold metal bites skin and now warm blood is trickling down her neck from the shallow cut. It stings, but she's had worse.
"You won't kill me," she sneers, or tries to, in between panting breaths, and aims a kick behind her at Leela's unprotected shins. At her failure, Leela lets out a short laugh, and Veklin grits her teeth, letting out an infuriated little growl. She scratches at Leela's arms, jabs, kicks, and eventually they end up on the floor, Leela underneath her, the knife flung across the room, far out of reach. It is impossible to tell who's blood is smeared across who's face now. Veklin snatches another kiss, rough and metallic, holding Leela's arms down.
They stay like that, absorbed in their trivial battle, exchanging taunts and bites and punches, for spans. When they both finally rip apart, it's a stalemate. It always is. How can there be a winner when there is nothing to win?