Work Text:
The first time Rio Vidal gets a full profile and a photoshoot she's wearing the navy jersey of the New York Valkyries and trying very hard not to look as nervous as she feels. At twenty, she's already the youngest player ever signed by the franchise.
Everything in her life is happening too quickly: one moment she is focused on this one match in New York and the following second she is thrown at the sponsorships, the meetings, the interviews. Suddenly strangers know her name. Suddenly there are headlines everywhere calling her “the future of women's basketball”. Sports channels won't stop replaying her debut in the WNBA draft. Fans gather outside every practice hoping for an autograph.
Rio still isn't used to any of it. She actually has a bit of anxiety, she is definitely not used to feeling this “vertigo”.
Alice, the voice of reason, insists she needs a proper feature before the season officially begins. It will boost her meteoric career, bla, bla, bla. Or that is what every manager says when trying to convince their superstar.
One thing Rio has learned for sure, is that her best friend's intuition never fails. So if Alice says what Rio needs is something more personal rather than another article full of statistics and predictions, she will agree to do it (even when they had a full disagreement about this).
Alice, knowing her best friend and how much she does not like to press, promised that having a piece- or “a lil something” that lets people meet Rio instead of simply admiring the athlete from afar will make the fuzz quiet down a bit.
"Don't overthink the interview," Alice tells her as they walk out of the elevator. "She's one of the best photojournalists in New York. She'll make you look good. You just have to smile, say the answers we practiced and be polite. Easy peasy." Rio just rolls her eyes, trying not to bite her nails as they are guided by a member of the production team to the studio.
Rio is immediately welcomed by a large, crowded space. Studio lights cover the entire visible ceiling; people are walking back and forth non-stop, and backdrops in every colour imaginable are piled up along the sides. On the opposite side to all that chaos is a spacious area filled with props, decorations, chairs, sofas and fabrics capable of bringing any set to life.
That is how Agatha Harkness walks into her life. Or, to be exact, that is how Rio Vidal enters Agatha Harkness’ orbit.
In the center of all that hustle and bustle, a tall, slender figure, dressed in high-waisted suit trousers and a white shirt that highlights her curves, is calmly observing the white backdrop in front of her while two light techs prepare the set up. A black leather harness hangs from her back, which expertly hugs her waist and ties two cameras to her body frame, one on each side.
As if sensing that someone has entered her territory without permission, she turns to the door and immediately clocks her eyes on Rio. Ice blue eyes stare into hazelnut ones and Rio forgets how to breathe for a second. The tall young boy who is guiding them visibly gulps as they cut the distance with the woman in front of them.
“Hi, erm, Miss Harkness… Here are…” the boy pauses to look at his notebook before continuing without freaking out. “Alice Gu Gulliver, manager and PR, and NY Valkyries star Rio-”
“I know who they are.” The woman cuts him without casting a look at him. She is looking directly at Rio, evaluating her. “Get me a double expresso.”
They boy gasps “Oh! Y-yes, right away.” He turns and as he passes by Rio he mutters. “Good luck.”
Rio raises an eyebrow, but before she can reply, a voice cuts in. “Welcome to my studio. I’m Harkness, Agatha Harkness.” She introduces herself with a confidence Rio immediately envies, and shakes her hand. It's an ordinary handshake but she can feel how Agatha is evaluating every move she makes.
Rio doesn't find her voice and coughs: “R-Rio Vidal.”
“Mmm yeah, I know you.” She briefly keeps staring at her until looking at Alice and shaking her hand firmly, “Nice to meet you Alice.”
Alice returns the handshake with practiced ease. "The pleasure's ours. Thank you for agreeing to this."
Agatha hums, though her attention has already drifted back to Rio. It is unnerving, the way she looks at people; Rio feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Agatha's eyes are fixed on her, not with the detached curiosity of a journalist searching for a quote, nor with the artistic gaze of a photographer hunting for good light.
She looks as though she's trying to solve a puzzle. "You look terrified," Agatha says matter-of-factly.
Rio blinks, taken aback by the sudden observation: "I—"
"She's not," Alice cuts in smoothly, stepping beside Rio before she can dig herself into a hole. "It's just her first major profile." Agatha arches an eyebrow not believing her.
"I wasn't talking about the interview." That makes the air grow thick with sudden tension.
Rio feels her ears warming, not knowing why suddenly she can't form long phrases. "I..." She clears her throat. "I'm fine."
"Sure." Agatha doesn't sound convinced but starts walking around Rio, evaluating her in any possible angle. Rio feels like she is a prey and her photographer is a hawk, looking to discover any weakness to attack.
The way Agatha moves is not intimidating but commanding, the air seems to shift around her. She has this calm confidence, she knows what she is looking for and does not care what others think about it.
When Agatha looks directly at the shirt appearing below her jersey, she becomes fully aware of how she has presented herself in the studio. The jersey suddenly feels too tight even though it's oversized; her trainers may seem a bit too dirty, her hair too wavy.
Agatha halts again right in front of her, that pulls Rio out of her thoughts. "Who dressed you?"
Rio glances down, then back up, feeling again how her ears feel too warm. "...The team?"
"Mhmm."
Alice exhales through her nose. "Please tell me you're not planning to insult my client before we've even started."
"Oh, I don't have time for that. I'm insulting the stylist, not the athlete." Alice arches an eyebrow and smirks, somehow liking Agatha's response.
Agatha still looks at Rio in a way she can’t describe. The only thing Rio does is try not to burst laughing due to her nerves, she feels so observed. That 's it. That is when Rio realises Agatha is not judging her (well, aside from the comment on her clothes), she is observing. The look on those deep light blue eyes is bright yet focused. “She is already working.” Rio thinks, “She is planning how she wants to take the shots.”
That makes Rio really look at Agatha, and sees the frown on her forehead, her eyes quickly scanning every detail and angle. Rio suddenly feels a deep respect for her, she is not a simple photographer. Rio can feel how Agatha is crafting the photos, already one step ahead, knowing all the technical details before she even picks up the camera.
Without a warning, Agatha reaches forward and her long fingers brush against the collar of Rio’s jersey, straightening a fold that Rio hadn't even noticed. The athlete instinctively freezes, she was so deep in though she hadn't realised Agatha was moving until she was close to her and her fingers brushing her skin. The touch lasts barely two seconds but she feels like the air has left her lungs and Rio's heartbeat stutters.
And Agatha notices, of course. Her expression shifts almost imperceptibly, and between all that focus and professionalism, something else crossed her eyes. But as soon as it comes, it vanishes. "There," Agatha murmurs, taking a step back. "Much better."
Rio has completely forgotten what breathing is supposed to feel like. Alice, on the other hand, notices everything: the way Rio can't breathe and how Agatha is staring. It lasts no more than a heartbeat before Agatha claps her hands once, instantly slipping back into work mode. “Let’s do five different looks, starting this one. I want to have a book with different auras and perspectives.” Then she turns and shouts: “Someone give Vidal a ball!”
Agatha picks up the camera hanging from her right shoulder, checking the settings almost absentmindedly. “Get in position, the blue mark on the floor.” She gestures toward the white cyclorama.
Someone gives Rio a basketball and she walks to the said mark. She is in front of a white cyclorama, with several lights directed towards her. “Ok. Let’s see what you got, superstar.” Agatha snaps, looking directly at her, one of her cameras in hand.
Rio recognises the challenge hidden in her words, and smirks. “You’re challenging me, boss? Game on.”
The photoshoot starts way better than Alice expected. Agatha completely understood how Rio functions and by challenging her, she makes the athlete feel comfortable enough to start doing tricks with the ball to impress the crew, or even put on some music. By the third change of outfit, Rio has decided to put a Residente playlist just to start rapping in Spanish when “Bienvenido a Mi Mundo” of Calle13 starts to play.
They start with the outfit Rio came with; the oversized team merch. Then the studio stylist comes in fuzzing around her makeup, hair, and clothes, and ends up in a full Balenciaga costume. Then, she changes to a beautiful red gala dress (to be honest she never felt so pretty in her life). Afterwards she is gifted with two outfits from NIKE, one of the team’s biggest sponsors. The last outfit is a light blue suit with an ocean blue top and an oversized jacket.
Rio is seated on a comfortable sofa as they shoot the interview, which is also being filmed as part of the profile. The cameras are already rolling by the time Agatha settles into the armchair opposite Rio. The air in the room shifts into something quieter.
For the first time since they met in the morning, Agatha is not wearing her black leather harness for her cameras. The woman standing in front of her is still the same—same crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, same impossible confidence, same piercing blue eyes—but there is something softer about her now, and Rio notices the change immediately. She crosses one leg over the other, balancing a leather notebook on her knee. A pen twirls lazily between her fingers.
"What?" Rio asks, shifting on the sofa, the way Agatha stares at her makes her a bit uncomfortable.
"You've been performing all morning."
Rio frowns, suddenly a bit nervous at being caught. "I've been taking pictures."
"No." Agatha shakes her head, says with confidence.. "You see, you've been performing. And there is quite a difference between being seen and acting."
The distinction hangs in the air, but not like an accommodating truth, but as “I want to see the real you.” Rio opens her mouth to protest before realizing... Agatha isn't entirely wrong. Every smile has been a little wider than usual and every joke slightly louder.
Agatha notices the realization crossing Rio's face and smiles to herself. "There she is. The real Vidal."
Rio blinks and chuckles. "I guess you are right. But note you challenged me, and I delivered."
Agatha smirks, and closes the notebook. “I did. I recognise a competitive person when I see one.” She takes her time to speak again, letting Rio know by her words that she has had her how and where she wanted her all the time. That somehow makes Rio even more nervous. “I won’t bother you with boring questions, that is not what I expect from this.”
Agatha leans back in her chair. "What scares you?"
Rio lets out instinctively a nervous laugh. "That's not exactly where I expected this interview to begin."
"No?" Agatha hums, as if she was reflecting. “I just told you I won’t bother doing boring questions.”
"I thought we'd start with basketball."
"I already know about basketball." Agatha tilts her head. "I want to know about Rio."
For reasons Rio can't explain, those six words land somewhere beneath her ribs. Agatha expects Rio to show up, to really be herself. But for her, it’s too soon, too quick. Actually, she has no other option but doing as the photographer says… answer honestly. Not like the brightest rookie in the WNBA draft, but as Rio. “She has me again where she wants me.” She thinks nervously, but another thought follows the previous one. “Oh, she’s challenging me again; she wants to see if I show up for myself.”
That calms her down; she knows what she has to do. She has to trust herself, speak for herself, but to do so, she has to trust Agatha and how she conducts the interview.
She takes some time to look for an answer. Rio looks down at the basketball still resting beside the sofa. "I guess..." She pauses, trying to breathe. "I'm scared of disappointing people."
Agatha doesn't interrupt, just gives Rio some space to elaborate. The silence stretches just long enough for Rio to continue on her own. "When I got drafted..." she says quietly, "...everyone kept telling me I was making history. But at the same time it’s all so chaotic, and I don’t feel I’m on solid ground anymore."
She smiles faintly. "I don't think anyone stopped to ask whether I was ready. I feel so many eyes on me, hopes of people I don’t even know. But what I fear most is… not disappointing the masses, that is not what this is about. I… I don't want to disappoint my family. I want them to be proud of me."
Agatha's pen never touches the paper, her full attention is on the woman across from her, seated on a couch.
"My mother always says pressure is a privilege," Rio continues.
"I've heard that one." Agatha swiftly says.
"I hate that saying."
Agatha laughs. "I do too."
Rio looks up, surprised.
"I mean..." Agatha shrugs. "It sounds great framed on a motivational poster." Rio lets out a soft laugh. "But pressure is still pressure."
Rio feels herself smiling, feeling understood. “Yeah and it weighs heavy on the mind.” The athlete hears a soft hum, Agatha nods, almost like forgetting they are being recorded.
Somewhere behind the cameras, Alice quietly smiles to herself. This is exactly why she'd wanted Agatha. Not because the great pictures Alice is sure will come up with the profile, but because she had an incredible ability to make people forget they were being interviewed.
The next hour drifts by almost unnoticed. The conversation wanders far beyond basketball, they do not even mention it. They talk about music after Rio mentions she likes to sing, and how she showed off earlier rapping in spanish. They talk about her childhood in Puerto Rico or when she moved to Spain to study and pursue her dream basket team at that moment. They also talk about fame and the strange loneliness that comes with becoming recognizable overnight.
At one point Agatha asks what Rio misses the most. Rio doesn't even have to think. "Going to the grocery store without someone asking for a selfie."
Agatha laughs. "That's heartbreakingly specific."
"It happened three times this week!" Rio deadpans with a groan.
"I'll add 'buy groceries in disguise' to your survival guide."
"You'd write a survival guide?"
"I'd write anything if it had a good ending." The words leave Agatha's mouth before she can stop them. For the first time that afternoon, she looks surprised, even caught off guard by herself.
Rio notices. Agatha looks directly at her and somehow, maybe it’s the gaze in those hazelnut eyes, that makes Agatha realize she has been seen. Not as the award-winning photojournalist, not as the intimidating woman everyone in the studio tiptoes around, just her. For a brief, almost imperceptible moment, Agatha smiles, a small, quick smile, only lasts a second. But enough for Rio to catch it.
She clears her throat, glances down at her notebook—still blank—and mutters almost to herself, as she gets up and walks towards the young athlete. "...You're going to make this article impossible to write."
Rio tilts her head, smiling. "Why?"
Agatha looks at her closely and replies: "Because every answer gives me three more questions." And for the first time that day, neither of them notices the cameras still recording. “Then I’ll be delighted to keep answering.” Agatha reaches a hand. This time, Rio does not hesitate and shakes her hand with a secure but soft touch. They lock eyes and time seems to stop around them. A loud crack in the universe happens and then…
SNAP.
*************
The studio falls quiet long before Agatha Harkness, the two times Oscar winning actress, arrives, but still there is this quiet buzz in the air. Hair and makeup artists finish arranging brushes and stylists steam the final outfit; and Rio is reviewing a third time with the lighting assistants every light and angle one last time.
So she has quite a few reasons to be almost vibrating with nerves. Even though by now she is a very skilled photographer and has worked with the socialité. She has photographed all kinds of actors, from legends to newcomers, musicians, politicians, even the English Royal Family. She has traveled the world through her lens, and somehow, one only actress makes her legs wobble.
She has one thing very clear: treats everyone the same once they step in front of her lens. The camera has a way of stripping away status; it only cares about truth. That certainty stays with her right until the studio doors slide open and someone from the production time rushes in. Rio adjusts the focus on her Hasselblad, barely listening to the conversations around her. Every producer she knows has warned her about Agatha.
"She's impossible." "She's charming until she isn't." "Don't let her take control of the set."
Someone announces that Agatha's car has just arrived and the photographer assistant Rio has this term, mutters nervously, "Showtime."
Then the studio doors open and Agatha Harkness walks in wearing oversized sunglasses, black tailored trousers and a cream silk blouse tucked effortlessly into her waist. She carries her Oscar-level confidence like it weighs nothing at all. People move out of her way, like she has an invisible force that repels anything that is not of interest.
"Good morning, everyone." she says to the room. Half the crew immediately straightens, even the tall skinny boy Rio has for an assistant.
Rio looks up— and forgets what she was about to say, she almost drops her camera. Something twists inside her chest, a familiar sensation but she cannot pinpoint what it is exactly. Because it's not attraction or gay panic. It’s the vague feeling of knowing someone, like if you just had a deja vú.
Agatha removes her sunglasses and blue eyes immediately find hazel ones across the room. And she opens her eyes almost imperceptively, like she recognizes Rio’s face but can't remember where she saw her.
"You." Rio blinks, taken aback by just one word, frozen almost like if she was a statue. Agatha crosses the studio until she's standing in front of her. "So you're Rio Vidal."
"Uh, yeah ...You've heard of me?"
"I've seen your work." She tilts her head, and looks at her with a spark in her eyes. Rio doesn't know if she is humbled that Agatha Harkness has seen her work, or is terrified because of it. “Let's see if you are as good as everyone says.”
Smirking, Agatha turns towards where hair and makeup artists are waiting for her. She doesn't let Rio say another word, instantly dismissed.
Agatha greets the makeup artists by name after hearing their introductions only once, apologises to catering because she'll probably steal all their pastries before lunch. Without much effort, everyone around her has a smile on their face and it's meticulously working to make her even more beautiful than she already is.
Work comes easily after that; Agatha understands the language of cameras almost instinctively. After almost twenty years acting, cameras don't have secrets for her. She is an expert on what she does and it’s confident in her own skin, and that reflects into her poses, her confident movement around the studio, her defiant look.
Rio barely has to offer direction before the actress adjusts her posture, follows the light or changes an expression with effortless precision. Every photograph seems to tell a different story before Rio has even pressed the shutter.
It should make the day easier; except it doesn't. Not because the actress didn't cooperate, quite the opposite, because she is really invested in the shoot. She wanders over between wardrobe changes, discusses with the makeup artists, and approaches Rio a couple of times asking why she prefers one lens over another, and wants to know why photographers always seem to hold their breath before taking the shot.
Rio simply knows. She knows which result each lens can provide, and how to play with different angles, focus and focal lengths. But gets really invested in explaying her favorite lens, and Agatha nods and listens. It’s like a really easy fluid conversation between set changes.
The crew slips naturally into its rhythm. Stylists adjust fabrics. Makeup artists chase away the shine left by the studio lights. Assistants move reflectors across the floor with quiet efficiency while music drifts lazily through hidden speakers, Agatha had chosen a random FleetwoodMac playlist.
The teasing only gets worse as the afternoon goes by. Every time Rio asks for a pose, Agatha exaggerates it just enough to make her laugh. "Like this?"
"No."
"This?" Agatha does weird things with her hands and arms, like if she was trying to dance
"What are you doing?” Rio lets out a laugh. “Get back into position, I got a perfect shot with the afternoon light from the window.”
"What about this one?"
"You're impossible."
"I've heard that too." The crew has long since stopped hiding their amusement. But Agatha winked again in Rio’s direction. “Finally I made the girl behind the camera laugh!”
The photographer rolls her eyes as she finishes cleaning the camera lens. “Do you flirt with everyone all the damn time?"
"No." Agatha looks directly at her, she does not address the assistant who is finishing tying her dress. "Only photographers who blush this easily." Continues once said assistant drifts back.
Rio feels heat creeping all the way to her ears and senses like the entire studio seems to disappear around them. Now there are just the last portraits and those beautiful ocean eyes. The photographer takes a bit more time to try and take the shots she needs for this particular set.
By the final setup, exhaustion has softened everyone around them. The studio has grown quieter, sunlight filters through the tall windows, mixing with the artificial lights until the entire room glows gold.
Agatha sits on a wooden stool while the stylist makes one final adjustment to her jacket. When everyone steps away, she remains perfectly still, ready for the camera.
Rio lifts her beloved Hasselblad, through the lens, the rest of the world falls away util Agatha is the only thing she can focus on. Now she was not looking at the camera, her gaze is lost in the horizon, thinking. Rio feels herself holding her breath, this is it. This is the shot she has been looking for the whole shoot.
Agatha is looking out of the window, leaning slightly against the frame, with one arm crossed over her chest and the other resting there, her hand holding the glasses which, absent-mindedly, had been resting on her lower lip. Whatever the actress might have been thinking, she looked stunning in that black dress that accentuated her curves. The light catches perfectly the edge of her jaw, the softness in her eyes and she is even smiling a bit, a smile she hasn't realised she's wearing.
Rio presses the shutter. Once. Twice. Then stops when Agatha hears it, and turns to her. She has been caught. Agatha doesn't seem to bother as she smirks.
A loose strand of dark hair has escaped from behind Agatha's ear. It shifts every time she breathes, catching the light before falling gently across her cheek. Without thinking, Rio lowers the camera and stares back at the actress. "You've got..."
Agatha raises an eyebrow. "What?"
Rio doesn't reply, just moves on instinct. She steps closer. Close enough to catch the faint scent of jasmine and expensive perfume. Suddenly, she feels very nervous. She's done this countless times before: adjusted collars or straightened jackets, but this seems more intimate.
Her hand rises slowly between them, Agatha doesn't look away, she can't, Rio’s eyes are like magnets and she cannot focus on anything else that is not her. Neither of them seems capable of breathing.
Rio's fingertips hover just above the loose curl, with all the softness in the world— and suddenly the entire world slows. The hum of the lights disappears and the music fades.
Then it happens, a flash appears in front of Rio’s eyes: a basketball jersey, pair of blue eyes looking at her exactly like this. Agatha inhales sharply, as though she has seen it too. Neither of them understands why tears threaten to form. Rio's fingers caress her softly as she adjusts the curl into position, her hand staying on her cheek for a moment longer than necessary.
And it happens again, the reality fractures. A thin crack races across the studio floor, the windows splinter into impossible white light and the world disappears once again with just one sound.
SNAP.
***********
Rio Vidal spends her days behind a camera, though this time it isn't fashion campaigns or Hollywood premieres that have earned her recognition. After years freelancing for newspapers, independent magazines, doing filmmaking, shooting big brands commercials. Every assignment has led her somewhere different, every photograph another attempt to understand people she will probably never see again. And finally, she has landed the position she has dreamed about since she first picked up a camera when she was 14.
VOGUE. She still catches herself staring at the giant letters on the building every morning, half convinced security will eventually stop her and explain there has been some terrible administrative mistake. But they never do. Her badge every morning gives her access to one of the most prestigious magazines in the world and one of the very finest looks of the sky of Manhattan.
It's always the same controlled chaos: editors drift between offices carrying mood boards tucked beneath their arms. Stylists disappear into wardrobes overflowing with garments and expensive clothes, worth more than their apartment. Assistants weave effortlessly through the ocean of desks, balancing coffee trays and bags with the precision of dancers.
A couple of years in, one ordinary morning between all the chaos, while she edits the pics for the next number of the magazine, her editor calls her to jump on a quick meeting. Assuming there will be more ideas the designers had for the next number, she enters the office quite relaxed. What she did not expect is what her editors say: "I've got your next feature and this one is big."
“Uh! That was quick, I just started editing the shoot we did yesterday for Burberry.” Rio laughs softly. “What do you got, Lilia?”
The woman just hands her a folder. “Take a look.” Rio in one swift motion, grabs the folder and drinks her coffee while she opens it. Written in capital letters is one name. “MERYL STREEP”. Rio almost spills her coffee and coughs violently.
She half laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” It is the kind of assignment photographers wait years to receive. “H-how…?”
Lilia just smiles, enjoying the shock on the photographer’s face. “You earned it. We’ve been receiving really good feedback from clients and… this is your big chance to ascend.”
She is still processing the name, the opportunity they are giving her, when her editor adds another almost absent-mindedly. "Oh, and you'll be working with Agatha Harkness. So we expect this to go for the cover of the big number of the season."
The name lingers, Rio knows her work long before she knows her face. But before letting her mind drift with the thought, something else catches her attention. “Wait. You mean this shoot will be the main cover for the autumn season? That means my photos will be- oh my god!”
Rio gets up almost instantly. “This is amazing! I’ll bring the best photos we’ve ever taken. Thank you, Lilia.”
She laughs and adds: “Just make sure not to kill Agatha in the process!”
Her editor goes back to her office and Rio is left with a big fat folder, full of information about previous work the magazine has done with Meryl. She fully dives in it, she wants to be as prepared as ever.
When she does her break for lunch, her mind goes back to one thing in particular. Or more accurately, one person. Agatha Harkness, a living legend in VOGUE.
There is a certain kind of profile that only Agatha seems capable of writing. Articles that begin as interviews and somehow end as biographies of the soul. Celebrities trust her with stories they have never told anyone else. Readers swear they can hear her subjects breathing between the lines.
Rio has admired her writing for years, but she also despises her completely. She has wondered what kind of person could ask questions that make strangers reveal so much of themselves. But the times she has crossed words with her, her experience hasn't been quite good. She has fought her with teeth and claws in the editorial meetings, and more than once she has pushed back her work.
She hates the woman behind them, or at least, Rio has convinced herself she does. Harkness has the annoying habit of being right far more often than Rio would like. Nowadays, editorial meetings inevitably become battlegrounds the moment the two of them disagree—which is often.
Rio will always fight for more images because her storytelling is made by photographs, and now more than ever you have to make it visually strong to convince the public to read your article, but Agatha every time pushes back. She is old-school in that sense, you won't convince her otherwise, written stories should be the center of the attention, not the contrary. "You're making the photo to cover half of the page and it does not show a thing! This piece has to have the title on the centre, not the lower half, you idiot!"
"And you're writing four thousand words because you don't trust the photograph!" Rio snaps back at her, loosing her patience. “You don't trust me. You're not letting my photo breathe! And you know it is the strongest opening we can have for the piece at the Milan Fashion Show!”
"No! You cropped the best frame, this barely shows anything"
"The last one wasn't the best frame, this one is!"
"It was."
"It wasn't." Rio confronts her. “Don’t you dare tell me how to do my job. I am the photographer here. This is the best shot. Period.”
Lilia has learned to schedule their meetings with at least fifteen extra minutes and has an emergency ibuprofen blister on her desk when things get too far and they trigger her migraines. Not because either woman is unprofessional, but because both of the care too a bit too much about their work and neither of them knows when to stop arguing and give a small victory to the contrary.
They challenge each other relentlessly, picking apart every decision until someone else eventually steps in before the discussion turns into an hour-long debate about composition, narrative or design.
For months, that has simply become... normal, and the team half of the time listened to them and the other half just ignored them completely. Sometimes it was even too normal that some coworkers just call them crazy wives to then switch to the divorcees. Yeah, that summer they didn't have gossip around the office and had to invent something. Neither of them liked it but neither denied it. Agatha always thinks gossip makes her lose her time in a moment where she has to be very much focused on her work. On the contrary, the photographer does not mind the gossip and is often gossiping with Alice.
Even when they have this push-and-pull dynamic, Rio thinks there is something strangely enjoyable about arguing with Agatha, though she will never say it aloud. She would rather break her camera on purpose than saying Agatha is right on something.
But she also knows why the journalist snaps back again and again. She is always asking clever questions and notices when something is missing in a photo. It is so damn exhausting, but it makes Rio better. And she thinks she does the same for her, every fight makes her writing more sharp. Which only annoys her more. Any of them could walk away, but neither of them wont. They are just really stubborn, they both know they like it, and that is why it happens every time.
The first planning meeting for the Meryl Streep feature goes exactly as expected, and is an absolute disaster.
"I don't want another super-duper glamorous cover." Agatha doesn't even sit before saying it.
Rio raises an eyebrow from the other side of the conference table, smirking. "You haven't even seen my moodboard.”She folds her arms. There she is, the Agatha she knows: biting even before sitting down. “Besides, we're talking about Meryl Streep. It is physically impossible for that woman not to look glamorous. She IS the definition of the word."
Agatha hums as she sits down opposite to the photographer, acknowledging the last part of the phrase, that was true. But she is not going to back down. "I've seen enough moodboards to know what Vogue usually does."
Rio leans forward across the table, her intense gaze one that, if it could, would make her take back her words. But it is Agatha she is speaking to, so it has no effect whatsoever. "So you've already decided mine is unoriginal?"
The journalist shrugs, bored. "I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
Agatha doesn't hold back a devilish grin. “Oh, I absolutely did, honey.”
A long sigh escapes from Lilia as she pinches the bridge of her nose, Rio rolls her eyes. "Good morning to you two as well."
Neither of them acknowledges her. Rio reaches for the neatly organized pile of reference photographs she'd spent the whole week looking for and printing, and slides them across the polished conference table. "I'm thinking of natural light rather than strong vibrant ones.Let her presence do the work."
Agatha barely glances at them, opening her notebook with several pages written in her styled calligraphy with ideas for the piece. "Better think about how we want to do the interview before taking photographs, shall we? Let’s see what we want from her."
"You always think about conversation first, but this time images will tell the same story, it will be filmed. So it's logical to think now about the visuals."
"Because people aren't mannequins or models that can wait for you while you adjust the lighting." Agatha retorts. “They like to talk about themselves, to hear their own voice. You get nothing if you go there and wait for something to happen, unprepared.”
Rio lets out a quiet laugh. "They're also not novels."
Agatha smiles, the photographer has seen her point. "No, they're something better. Walking stories, legends even. And that is why we have to be sure to have a solid interview with Streep."
Rio hates when she smiles during arguments, mostly because it makes her want to smile back and she always has to bite it back to prevent it from happening.
Preparation lasts almost three weeks. In that period, moodboards become shooting schedules and wardrobe fittings become location scouts. Every afternoon, Rio and Agatha engage in a new argument about how to proceed with Meryl's profile, until someone has to tell them to cut it off and go home. They never do, even when they disagree constantly about almost everything: colours, light, framing, outfits, locations, interview schedule… So, little by little, something changes; arguments begin lasting longer, yes, but it's because they want it to be perfect and they match each other's efforts for the same goal.
The day of the shoot arrives before either of them feels ready. Three weeks of preparation have disappeared in the blink of an eye. And Agatha has written more questions than usual just to have them crossed out and rewritten, over and over.
After arguing about every minimal detail of the interview, they are in this beautiful palace in near London. Tall ceilings, spacious rooms, beautiful gardens with a great variety of flowers, it all makes it the perfect location for the photoshoot. Every discussion has ended exactly the same way—with Lilia reminding them that they are on the same team. But turns out every argument has led to an extensive pre-production where everything has been planned with great care. Somehow, every disagreement has made the project better.¡
Rio is already inside one of the biggest halls of the palace, the one they've built a set in, one hour before the call. She always prefers having an hour before everyone else to prepare in absolute silence her cameras and lenses and to go through her moodboard to make sure she makes all the shots she needs.
Photography is a strange craft. The shooting final image may last a fraction of a second, that is the time the sensor is capturing light, but every photograph is built from hundreds of tiny decisions made long before anyone ever stands in front of the camera.
She walks through the set one last time. She makes sure everything is in place and ready to go. The backdrop has exactly the texture she wanted, minimal furniture, enormous diffusion frames covering the windows, allowing the late morning sunlight to spill inside in long, gentle beams. Natural light, making the space a bit more warm, exactly as she'd imagined. Satisfied, Rio lifts her camera and takes a few test shots of the empty set to do the white balance correctly.
She does not hear footsteps approaching her. "Don't you trust your own lighting?"
She doesn't need to turn around, she keeps her gaze fixed on the parameters on the camera screen. "I trust my lighting," Rio answers with a confident voice. "What I don't trust is the London weather, it can change any minute, and my camera has to be ready."
Agatha walks past her carrying two coffees and a leather notebook already overflowing with sticky notes. She places one of the cups in the flycase beside Rio without asking whether she wants it. Rio notices, but pretends not to. Instead, she takes a quick glance at the woman beside her. Dressed in a blouse and dark purple suit pants, is the journalist, memorizing once more the questions she will ask.
"You've colour-coded your questions." The photographer observes.
"I've organised them."
"Looks like a rainbow.” Taking a sip of the coffee, she deadpans: “I didn't take you as a person who wants to wave a pride flag in her journal." It has a bit of cinnamon, damn it, Agtha notices everything.
"What can I say, if it helps, it helps." Agatha shrugs, but her lips curve into a small smile.
"Touché." Rio watches her for a second longer than she should. She looks different outside the office, not because she's dressed differently but because she is calmer. Ready for whatever comes next, with a confidence that Rio secretly envies. The silence stretches comfortably between them for the first time.
Then Lilia appears from the shadows. "Morning. If you two have finished flirting through passive-aggressive comments, hair and makeup will be here in 10, stylists are already bringing the costumes and Meryl will be here in 30. Get ready."
"We're not flirting." They answer simultaneously.
Lilia snorts, not caring if they see her laugh. "...Sure, ladies." She walks away before either of them can object. Rio, with her face warm, pretends to adjust one of her lenses and Agatha suddenly finds her notebook fascinating.
Meryl Streep arrives ten minutes early. She somehow manages to make entering a set feel like walking into a friend's kitchen. She is wearing a navy suit, perfectly tailored and neatly prepared for her. She greets every crew member and then she extends her hand to Agatha Harkness.
“Agatha Harkness, a pleasure." She smiles warmly. "You're the one who's going to ask all the difficult questions."
Agatha laughs softly. "I'll try not to."
"Oh, no, please do.” Meryl's eyes sparkle. "The interesting interviews are always the difficult ones."
Agatha returns the smile, suddenly glad she has full freedom to ask all the relevant questions she has spent weeks preparing. Within five minutes, everyone has relaxed, even Rio which is something rare. Meryl greets her by complimenting a series of documentary photographs she took for the Magnum Agency in the African continent. Curiously enough, Meryl's comment makes Rio more confident, leaving the nerves behind.
The first setup is effortless. Rio barely speaks, she does not need to. Seems like Meryl and her speak the same language, almost based on instinct. She sometimes gives small directions: "A little towards me." "Hold that." "Beautiful." But sensing what she is going to say, Meryl somehow understands every instruction before Rio finishes saying it.
Between shutter clicks, Agatha quietly observes from behind the monitor. She does not look at the photos that appear second after second on the screen, but looks at the woman behind the camera. She watches the magic unfold right before her eyes, the complete transformation that happens when Rio reaches for one of her cameras. She becomes more confident with her skills, completely focused on what’s in front of her. She is one with the camera, like an extension of her own body.
Every trace of the woman who enjoys arguing over designs disappears. This Rio barely speaks, she watches patiently, waiting for the right moment and when she finally presses the shutter, it always feels inevitable. Like it is the perfect shot. Agatha finds herself admitting she's impressed.
The interview begins during a wardrobe change, and a cloud of human hands are retouching every angle of Meryl’s face, who is completely unbothered by them. With more than 75 films under her belt, she knows all the ins and outs of filmmaking, press tours, countless interviews and thousands of photoshoots. Her patience has been honed throughout her long career.
Agatha sits across from Meryl with her notebook resting on her knee. She doesn't look at it once, she knows where to begin. "So," she begins. "You've spent decades playing women people remember long after the credits roll. What makes someone unforgettable?"
Rio is changing lenses nearby, just behind one of the studio lights. Without meaning to, she pauses and listens. She was not expecting that as a first question for an interview, yet it feels like a strong start.
Meryl considers the question carefully. "They're contradictory. They're never only brave, or only kind." Rio glances up from her camera. "They all have a wide range of emotions. They can be frightened; they may be selfish or generous. That contradiction is the humanity within each one of us. My job only consists in bringing that truth, that humanity, that emotions to the light; let the people connect with the character. They don't remember the character, they remember what they made them feel.”
Silence settles between them, letting the answer breathe. Rio realises she's stopped pretending to organise her equipment, at some point she really starts looking at Agatha. She is doing what she promised: letting a living legend tell her story. There is a certain kind of profile that only Agatha seems capable of writing. As the interview unfolds, Rio thinks that the journalist is somehow not only interviewing a phenomenal actress, but exploring, mapping her soul. There is a certain kind of profile that only Agatha seems capable of writing, and maybe Rio understands now why her editor assigned this profile to her.
Agatha notices, she feels this shiver in her neck, the feeling of being watched. She knows she is being watched and by who. She doesn't acknowledge it.
Hours pass almost without anyone noticing, portrait after portrait, question after question. They move though the whole palace taking advantage of the location with different outfits, backgrounds, colours. The shoot settles into its own rhythm: Rio photographs, Agatha interviews, the crew moves around them with effortless precision-
Every now and then, Rio catches Agatha watching the monitor after a particularly strong portrait. Every time she pretends she wasn't and every time Rio pretends she believes her.
Late afternoon sunlight pours through the windows in thick golden ribbons. They are almost finished. She lowers the camera as she walks up to her editor. "I want one more setup."
Lilia looks at her watch. "We're already twenty minutes over."
"I know." Rio exhales, as she grabs a bottle of water. “I have this feeling that I need one more portrait in the garden. Just one.”
Lilia looks at her just above her glasses, studying her. “Go get Meryl, quickly. Just 5 minutes more Rio.”
Rio thanks her and runs towards Meryl, who is now about to enter the palace again. "Meryl!” She speaks a bit out of breath but with a big smile. “Five more?"
Meryl laughs. "For you?" She turns to her and winks. "Sure. Let's make sure you get the photo you're thinking of."
While the stylists smooth the last few creases in Meryl's jacket before she gets in position again, Rio kneels beside one of the monitors, reviewing the photographs. She just needs one more picture that captures the essence of Meryl. A shadow falls across the screen.
"They're beautiful."
Rio doesn't look up immediately, smiling softly. "I know."
"So modest." Rio rolls her eyes as Agatha crouches beside her anyway. Close enough that Rio catches the faint scent of lavender mixed with expensive perfume. Something warm but not strong, comforting even. Their shoulders brush and either moves away pretending not to notice
Agatha studies the photographs in silence and finally she exhales. "You were right."
Rio looks up. "Uh?...About what?"
"The natural light." The admission surprises both of them.
Rio blinks, suddenly lost of words. "I wasn't expecting you to say that."
"I know." Agatha smiles softly. “But if they are good, that’s it. Period.”
"You usually make me earn compliments."
"Yeah, I do” The journalist snorts and then she jokes: “If not me, who would torment you?” A beat passes. "They're still a little too bright. You gotta work better."
Rio lets out a loud laugh, surprising some crew members nearby. "There she is. The woman who is physically incapable of complimenting someone without immediately correcting them."
Agatha's mouth twitches again into a small smile. "Hey, I have a reputation to maintain."
"You absolutely do. A tremendous one, by the way" Rio shakes her head, looking at her and picking up her camera once again. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile this much. I think I finally cracked the armour and made the invincible journalist smile."
Agatha opens her mouth but nothing comes out, she closes it again. Because, suddenly— She's actually looking at Rio, not the photographer, not her insufferable coworker, just Rio. Rio and the tiny crease beside her eyes when she laughs or the stubborn strand of dark hair that refuses to stay behind her ear and the warmth in those impossible green eyes.
Something inside her ribs, shifts, something she cannot explain blooms inside her, making her feel less in guard. Like she is somewhere safe, she does not have to carry her armour around because it's not necessary with Rio, as though she's remembered someone she has never met.
Rio feels it too and her smile slowly fades. The studio grows strangely quiet and the rest of the world fades. She feels this shiver in her spine, her neck, her hands. She looks to the blue eyes and she sees it like flashes: the echo of a basketball bouncing, camera hanging in a black leather harness, laughter, a blue jersey, someone posing near a window with a beautiful sunset.
As it comes, it's gone before it can become a memory. Agatha frowns almost imperceptibly, like if she has seen it too. They stay like that, staring at each other, finally realising who is the person in front of them.
Rio feels it too and her smile slowly fades. The studio grows strangely quiet and the rest of the world fades. She feels this shiver in her spine, her neck, her hands. She looks to the blue eyes and she sees it like flashes: the echo of a basketball bouncing, camera hanging in a black leather harness, laughter, a blue jersey, someone posing near a window with a beautiful sunset.
As it comes, it's gone before it can become a memory. Agatha frowns almost imperceptibly, like if she has seen it too. They stay like that, staring at each other, finally realising who is the person in front of each other.
Without thinking, Agatha reaches up on impulse. "You've got..."
Rio blinks. "What?"
"A strand of hair." The words leave Agatha's mouth before she understands why she's saying them.
Rio freezes, not because of the gesture, but because something inside her lurches so violently it almost hurts. Her heart suddenly recognises Agatha, it remembers her.
Another flash. Her hand reaches towards a familiar face. Agatha's face. Someone laughs in the background. Again, in a second it’s gone.
Agatha's hand hovers beside Rio's face, close enough that Rio can feel the warmth radiating from her fingertips. Neither of them breathes, blue eyes locked in hazelnut ones. Then, impossibly gently, Agatha tucks the loose strand of hair behind Rio's ear, her fingertips brush warm skin. And Rio feels again that same shiver run through her body.
This time the world doesn't stop, nothing dramatic happens. But somehow they both feel how everything changes. They feel as though a knot in the universe – one they didn’t even know existed – is being untied. They feel relief and at the same time they recognise each other.
Rio forgets how to breathe, her heartbeat impossibly fast. Agatha's hand lingers for half a heartbeat longer than it should before she pulls it back, almost startled by her own impulse. "There." Her voice is quieter now. She has done the same thing Rio did to her, somewhere, somehow, in another time. “You… we… know each other. I remember… you.”
Rio swallows hard, her face completely flustered. "... It is always you." Neither looks away nor neither seems capable of moving. Around them, the studio continues exactly as it has all day, except it doesn't feel the same anymore.
A voice finally cuts through whatever invisible thread has wrapped itself around them. "Rio?" Lilia is looking at them with a disbelieving look. "We're ready."
The spell snaps. Rio comes back to her senses a little too quickly, lifting her camera as though it might anchor her back to reality. “Oh! Yeah, yes, I’m on my way. ”Agatha clears her throat, opening her notebook despite not reading a single word on the page.
"Everything alright?" Lilia asks, looking between them with a disbelieving look.
"Fine." They answer in perfect unison.
A few metres away, Meryl watches the exchange with quiet amusement. She smiles to herself before stepping back onto the set, knowing, understanding what just happened before her eyes without explanation.
Rio prepares herself in position and raises her camera to her eye. Only then does she realise she isn't fully focused at the composition or the photo anymore. She's more focused now on Agatha. And when Agatha meets her gaze from across the garden, with the sunset light pouring over the sky, she has the feeling that, somehow this is right. Whatever is changing between them is right. The universe, after countless attempts, finally decides to let the moment happen.
And somehow, they both know that whatever has just begun… It didn't begin today. It simply found them again. And finally their stories can be told together again.