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Time had never been kind to either of them. Sabine felt like it was particularly vengeful towards her, though she could never rationalize that feeling.
If she could go back and change one thing, to adjust one pivotal moment of her new life, it would be that conversation that they had on that cold and rainy night, six months into her employment with the Valorant Protocol. Though she had found her own steady feet beneath a weary body, six months had not been enough time for her to truly adjust to the burdens of authority and command; Wei had it even worse, having joined only two months later.
It was Wei who had come to her, not the other way around. Of course that was how it played out — since when would Sabine Callas, of all people, seek comfort in the flawed advice of a peer? She had been minding her own business, and had hoped that the measured footsteps on stone tile behind her belonged to another. She did not move a muscle as Wei's perfume — comforting sandalwood and soft vetiver — enveloped her, even as its strength faded from the day's exertions. She did not even dare to speak until Wei opened up to her.
I need your help, Sabine.
She could have evaded the strike if it weren't so personalized. There was no way she could escape this, though.
I'm struggling. I don't know how to even say it. But I can't do this much longer.
Sabine remembered offering only a sharp sigh and a shrug of her shoulders at first, the dissipating strands of smoke off her cigarette vanishing as though seeking to escape the uncomfortable scene, doing something she could not. It would have been easy enough to offer a palatable boilerplate, to assuage Wei in the moment, and then never speak of this again. It would have been so simple.
She made her own life more difficult by turning and facing the healer and giving Wei her full attention, in spite of her reservations. That was the pivotal moment; there was no turning back after that. How could she turn away, when she saw how Wei's normally stoic eyes had become so plaintive? How could she forget this moment, when she realized just how much exhaustion was contained in those bloodshot eyes? How could she not extend a hand, when Wei's were shaking just as hers did?
Say something Sabine. Please.
Sabine had been silent for far too long, but she was not ignoring her. Rather, she was calculating. Even now, in the grip of rising emotions that she had long ago sought to permanently bottle up, she could not escape her planning instinct. She was reviewing all possible outcomes here, and trying to choose the best response that would not turn Wei into a sobbing mess on the second-floor balcony overlooking the silent little courtyard below with its fan palms and blooming bromeliads.
After what felt like forever, she failed. There was no perfect plan for her here. It was impossible to intuit how such an intimate and complex little scenario would play out. This was never what she planned for — especially not when ambushed in the dark like this. This was not her forte.
But she would not remain silent.
She took Wei's hand first, and that was a mistake. Quickly, she shuffled her fingers up to the woman's wrist, and then her forearm — don't make this worse, she scolded herself, but it was too late for that. Wei was looking up at her now, a fresh warmth in her eyes, turbulent waves subsiding in intensity as the storm that drove them lost its power. She gripped Sabine's forearms with her own fingers, and they dug in much more deeply, making her wince.
Be as kind to yourself as I've seen you be to everyone else.
That was all Sabine could offer in the moment. She wished she could offer more — a thousand promises, a lifetime of safety, a long-overdue kiss on the lips — but in the moment, she could only wrap Wei up in comforting words. She did not even really believe her own advice, thinking it was far too trite, but the effect it had on Wei was immediate. Her grip on Sabine's forearms loosened and the shaking subsided, her eyes brightening as the impact of her words was felt. Sabine did not think it that profound, but the effect on Wei was that and more. It was a pivotal moment.
Some days, she wished she had turned her back and returned to her cigarette, and left Wei Ling Ying to her own devices. It would be easier than falling in love. The only thing more difficult would be falling out of that same love, and she judged that was now impossible.
Her mind rarely wandered when it was fixed on work, but today was an exception. The escalating pattern of violent confrontations with their mirrors was in the rearview mirror, but it was difficult for her to leave that strange and frantic period behind. The missions themselves had been one thing, but the scars they left were another.
Dead. Wounded. Civilian casualties. Damaged equipment. Lost opportunities. Sleepless nights. Was it all worth it?
It was difficult to assess just where they stood, and the fatigue and headache did not help her much. She could always fall back on old habits, but the moment those measured footsteps tapped along the linoleum outside of her laboratory office, she knew that would be a bad idea. Much as she might like to toss a few pills down the hatch and wash them down with copious amounts of caffeine, she knew it would ultimately be passing the buck along. She grit her teeth and turned to face the visitor at her door, who entered without knocking.
"I know you're busy."
"Sage…"
"I was working, too. Don't think it was easy for me to get away."
"I'd never imagine it."
She did not think that either of them could ever truly rest easy. They were working women, after all; and even though the turbulence of the past year had abated, their world was still not entirely safe. She felt like there would always be something lurking just on the other side of the horizon, waiting for her to lower her head and take a moment's rest. The consequences of slipping up like that could be fatal not only for her, but for all the others she was responsible for. She did not think she could ever truly rest.
"You look like you've had a long day," Sage said, then quickly bit her tongue. "I did not mean for that to-"
"No offense taken," Viper reassured her dryly.
"…it's just that you're tired, Sabine. I can tell. I can see it. Even if you try to hide it."
Her visible alarm at the unexpected use of her real name did not deter Sage from proceeding. Far from stepping back as though realizing the mistake she made, she walked forward, penetrating the sanctity of Viper's space with alarming confidence. Viper should have told her to halt, or better yet evicted her before she could feel her fingers around a weak spot and dig in there, but she was at a loss for words. Sage had completely caught her by surprise here, and she had no way of coping with it.
"You've been working early mornings again, haven't you?"
"Not that early," Viper lied, swallowing her worry.
"You've been up late as usual, too."
"Of course," she said stiffly.
"Remember what we talked about? We talked about that."
Viper did not know how to respond to all of this. A part of her felt like Sage was scolding her the way a frustrated mother would to an unruly child, but a more rational part of her knew what was driving this. She had not been taking care of herself, and Sage knew. Sage had her ways — she always did, and no matter how Viper tried to hide her bad habits, she would ultimately let something slip. She already knew what it was today — the coffee pot was cold from last night's brewing. She had gotten sloppy, and Sage had noticed when she entered.
"You told me you weren't going to do that anymore," Sage continued, her tone still stern but the concern showing through her otherwise sharp words. "It's not necessary like it used to be."
"Maybe it still is," Viper grumbled half-heartedly, not even convincing herself.
"For what reason? Do you think they're going to spring up out of the ground and return from the dead? We killed them, Viper. It's done."
Though she understood the finality of it, those words hit her like a brick to the back of the head. We killed them. Even though it was a collective effort, she bore her share of the responsibility, an iron shackle whose cold hands she could never unclasp, forever branding her skin as a reminder of the definitive nature of their work. She had no lingering regrets, but even still, it was difficult to kill yourself even under the best of circumstances. She had lost count of how many nights she had woken up, bejeweled by misty droplets of sweat that gleamed in the frigid mercury light of her alarm clock, the bloodied and battered face of her mirror — all too much like hers — still visible in the darkness. She was not afraid of ghosts, but this one haunted her more than she would like.
"I know it's done," she said, through gritted teeth. "I'm just busy."
"I don't like it when you lie to me, Sabine."
"Stop calling me that. We're at work," Viper insisted.
"No one else is around to hear. You never let anyone into your lab, anyway. Even Killjoy has been complaining that she doesn't get to see you as often."
"I've been busy."
She could not even pretend to herself that she was a capable liar. In front of Sage, she might as well have been a wet paper bag: transparent and crumbling, she could not keep the front up for long. Her hands began to shake. Sage placed her own on them, pinning them gently against the desk.
"I know it's hard to move past," Sage said, "but you have to. And if you can't do that here, then we'll find a place."
"What do you mean? Are you-"
"It won't be more than just a few days, I know you have projects running," Sage reassured her, as if that was the real problem here. "But a few days away won't kill you."
"It might," she sulked.
"You promised me you would take care of yourself. You're not going to break that promise, are you?"
She was sorely tempted to. It would be better than admitting that she needed help — or worse, time away. Vacation was just a word, a distant concept whose existence she acknowledged every time she ticked that box on someone else's approval form, deeming them more deserving than she. She would never take that time for herself. Now, she was going to be made to take that time.
"Of course you won't break your promise." Sage was now behind her, dipping long, muscular arms over her shoulders and locking them across her chest. "You wouldn't want to make me sad, would you?"
"…no."
"And you want to spend time with your girlfriend, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
Sage locked her arms tighter and leaned in to give her a kiss just below the ear — her favorite spot. The shivers that raced from head to toe and back again nearly caused her to black out momentarily. How long had it been since they had last shared even a remote shred of intimacy like this? She had denied herself, and her partner that.
"Then let me make the plans."
"You?"
"Unless you want to plan the first real vacation of your life," Sage laughed lightly. "And I don't think you want that…"
"I don't even know how."
"Exactly."
She could figure it out, given enough time. She didn't want to waste time doing that. She was cornered, sandwiched between two powerful and loving arms buried beneath a cream-colored robe, and there was no escape unless she let herself go.
Would it really be all that bad, though?
At first, she thought it might. Within her first three hours away from the Protocol base, she called Killjoy twice — on her third attempt, Sage took custody of her phone with a single fell swipe.
"She'll handle things fine," Sage reassured her stiffly. "She and Raze have looked after your lab before, when you had to deploy for long missions."
"That was different," Viper insisted, surprised to hear how plaintive her tone was in her own ears.
"Do you think Raze and Killjoy are any less capable of stewarding your space when they aren't in mortal peril?"
"It certainly helps," Viper grumbled.
But she would not fight Sage any longer. She was beginning to annoy even herself, and she knew that was the sign for her to lean back in her seat, close her eyes, and shut up. She might not enjoy doing so, but she would at least grant her girlfriend peace, and by extension relieve herself of the suspicion that she herself was becoming a burden.
Their flight to the mainland was pleasant at least — she wouldn't sleep, but she could certainly rest and not feel the immediate prickle of survival instinct, urging her to stay awake and aware. Having Sage next to her, alternating between holding her hand and laying gentle fingers on her clothed thigh, helped lull her into a sense that everything might be okay. While she might not believe that definitively, she could at least relax in the moment and appreciate what she had with her, and around her.
And then as if in the blink of an eye, she had traded the artificial and carefully-managed environment of the airplane for a vast and wild countryside beyond the cityscape. Everything inbetween had been a blur. She was taken by surprise when it finally dawned on her.
"It's this far out?"
She had paid uncharacteristically little attention to their surroundings amid their departure from the airport. Almost in a fugue state, she had followed the one person she recognized — her eyes latching onto a bright cream-colored jacket and midnight-black hair and never letting go. Wei had led, Wei was now driving.
"It's pretty far out," she said, not taking her eyes off the road. "It was Skye's recommendation."
"Skye comes out here?"
"A couple of times," she said, as though they had already discussed this. "It's close to one of her favorite hiking spots. It's a bit of a journey, though."
"I'll say."
She didn't mean to sound as grumpy as she did. It was sort of a natural state of being for her — what she fell back on when she did not know how else to express herself. Here and now, being driven out into the wilderness to some rustic cottage in the middle of nowhere with no idea what to do with her spare time, she truly lacked the words to describe how she felt.
Good? Bad? She was somewhere inbetween. She was grateful that Wei did not ask any further questions or try to engage her in conversation for the remainder of the drive. It was difficult enough to process this without further inputs; any additional stimuli risked unexpected and potentially detrimental reactions. She imagined herself a collection of molecules, churning away in some enormous reactor whose dimensions were impossible to calculate, and this was just one big project that she was a little piece of. It was oddly comforting to reduce the idea of vacation to numbers and words, and chain them together slowly but surely as they wound their way up into the mountains. It gave her something familiar to hang onto as she entered into the strange and novel experience of personal liberty.
The first day was the most difficult, and she struggled most with her free time then. The moment that she woke up just after dawn and realized she had nowhere to go and nothing to do, she nearly panicked.
Breathe, she snapped at herself, over and over until she did just that. Lay back down. Stay still. You're incorrigible.
Wei was still asleep, though she was stirring beneath her blankets on the other side of the bed. Sabine was used to sleeping in a queen bed alone, and felt that her space was oddly constricted with another body even in a larger bed. She chalked the feeling up to an untreated case of terminal neuroticism, decided it was not worth further diagnosis, and forced herself to get up. That was the most difficult part of the day — getting up to wait seemed like an exercise in futility and absurdity, and she wondered how long it would be before she went insane here.
She had to admit, the place they had rented was pleasant and comfortable and in some ways even luxurious, offering modern standards of comfort without feeling alienating and adapting rustic elements of old fashions without feeling gauche. She prepared a small breakfast and brewed coffee the old fashioned way and found hardcover books on various topics from cross-country travel to geology, and before long she found herself lost in the present. It was easy to fall into the niche, the way a wayward quarter might slip through the cracks of a couch to be lost in the dark, but she soon felt anything but lost. She felt grounded, alive, present in this little space that she shared with only one other person.
Wei woke up significantly later, almost an hour after she had gotten dressed, and did not rush anything. She understood the assignment of this vacation thing better than Sabine ever could, judging by how effortlessly she went about a very different morning routine without a single moment of hesitation. Sabine watched her the way a starving cat might warily eye a stranger enticing it to food, not trusting that it could be this easy or without a hitch. But the more she watched Wei, the more she realized that she was holding herself back deliberately, afraid of what might happen if she broke down those barriers and indulged. There was nobody else to blame but her.
That whole morning she stewed, isolating herself until she was fed up with her own inhibitions. When the seal finally broke, she sought Wei out first, and offered her appreciation the only way she knew.
"Oh, what's this?"
Wei feigned surprise at the hug from behind, when she had probably been expecting it all morning. She knew Sabine well enough, and understood her love language perfectly, and had probably anticipated all of this to play out exactly as it did. And yet she made no indication of any foresight, and instead pretended that this was an unexpected development.
"Are you feeling alright, Sabine? This isn't like you."
"Shut up."
"You're holding onto me awfully tight."
"Can't you just enjoy it?"
"Who says I'm not enjoying it?"
Wei, who had been standing at the kitchen island mincing sausages and crushing up fresh herbs for a makeshift lunch, now turned her attention fully to her partner. Turning on the spot with a crisp shift of her heels, she pulled Sabine in even further and returned the favor with interest — a kiss on the cheek, then another on the lips, each brief but thoughtful. Anything more would have been overwhelming; anything less would have felt like neglect. It had taken them time to reach this equilibrium where they understood how to mesh with each other best, but once they reached it there was no turning back. They were fated to evolve and grow together like the intertwined roots of two stubborn trees.
"Hey, wanna do something together today?"
Sabine could not imagine what that might entail when Wei asked her. She drew only blanks. Her frustration must have been evident, because Wei gripped her tightly and smiled confidently.
"I have some ideas, don't worry," she promised, with a hint of implied mischief. "Just you hold tight, alright? We'll have some lunch."
Wei enjoyed caring for her in little ways. She centered acts of service in her life and had her own long history of that — no matter what it had cost her body or mind — and even on vacation, she did not absolve herself of duty. The lunch she prepared was simple but robust, and Sabine appreciated every part of it. It was the thought that counted most, but the execution mattered too. And by the time she was tired of holding tight, Wei was ready to take her hand and lead her outside.
"Just a short walk," she promised. "It won't be like one of Skye's hikes."
"I could handle one of those," Sabine grumbled. She sometimes went hiking and even jogging with Skye, though those trips had become few and far between. "I don't mind something longer."
"I just want to see what's around. And I'd rather not get lost," Wei admitted sheepishly.
"Let me lead the way, then."
She was confident enough to offer a brief smile, her reservations few. She had proven an exceptional navigator, keenly observant of the landmarks around her and blessed with a good sense of position even when deprived of familiar spaces. Sabine enjoyed flexing her abilities for the benefit of them both — never boasting, but always showing just how skilled she was. Once she felt like she was in her comfort zone, today was no exception.
The walk was not long, as she did not want Wei to feel uncomfortable or lose sight of their cabin. She led the way down a game trail, across a narrow and very shallow but excited brook, skirted a grove deeper within the forest, then followed said brook back up a low rise to the plateau on which their cabin sat. It all felt so neatly arranged that it could be artificial — but she knew this was just the perfect spot. Skye really did know how to pick them.
"Well, that was invigorating," Wei whistled, catching her breath after the uphill climb. "And look at you! You're smiling again."
Sabine immediately moved to rectify that. "Am not," she insisted. "Why do you care?"
"Why wouldn't I care?" Wei asked back, unruffled.
"It was nice," she admitted.
"And that's all I needed to hear," Wei said. "See? Taking time off to go elsewhere isn't such a bad thing after all."
Sabine did not like to be reminded of it, but she wouldn't argue either. Though there would come moments where she felt like she was wasting vital energy on idle nonsense, she was beginning to feel the tension in her body unravel. Months and months of ceaseless work, wearing herself thin for no purpose but to avoid feeling her feelings, had accumulated in her tissue and blood like a colony of parasites. If she had kept at it, she would have drained herself dry. This was ultimately necessary, and ultimately enjoyable, and even if she tried to hide her smiles from Wei, the effort would prove fruitless. Wei knew how to eke them out of her.
The second day was easier. She still woke up with a heavy sense that she was missing a crucial piece of her life, but she got over it quickly with a cold shower and a fierce, frantic morning routine.
Drowning her irrational fears in coffee and sunlight, she took a walk on her own and explored a little further than they went yesterday. By the time she had wandered back to the cabin, Wei was up and grinned at her as she stepped back inside.
"Finding your place already? We have a whole week here."
"I figured some fresh air couldn't hurt."
"There's a lot of things that won't hurt you, Sabine. I'm glad you're figuring that out."
She wanted to be slighted, feeling patronized, but she knew that Wei was coming at this from a place of frustration. They had bickered over her health endlessly. It had taken this much time for her to be okay with opening herself up and changing her routine and indulging a little, and even now she hesitated. She still needed that push to keep her going.
"What do you want to do today?" She made the first move. "You'll probably have more ideas than I do."
"You sound almost too eager," Wei teased. "Maybe I just wanted to hang out. Would that be alright?"
"That would be okay.
It would be more than okay.
She liked it once she was seated, a few feet of open space separating her from Wei to allow her to feel independent without leaving her feeling alone. Wei knitted and she read. Wei drank tea, and she drank coffee. Wei was almost preternaturally still, while she slouched and shifted and moved ceaselessly. And yet in spite of their differences, they shared the space without conflict or concern, simply existing with each others' presence with silent acknowledgement of the value therein. It helped Sabine a lot to just be present and there and let the hours tick by, knowing that they weren't wasted even if it felt that way. By the time her stomach began to stir, eager for another one of Wei's simple lunches, she realized that she had needed this for so long. She was glad that she had been dragged out here.
She didn't quite know how to say it, but she expressed her gratitude the same way she had before. The simple hug from behind caught Wei by surprise this time — it was far more vigorous, Sabine's embrace tighter and more difficult to escape, and it came with a kiss and a sigh over the back of her neck.
What's gotten into you? was what she thought Wei would say. But Wei said nothing, skipping the opportunity for teasing to appreciate the gesture, however brief it might be.
The third day was just like any other.
She rose without fear, dressed without worry, and existed without purpose. She meandered from one room to the next, appreciating the scenery with her coffee in hand, attending to little necessities and fussing over tiny details.
When Wei awoke, they lay together on the couch for some time. Sabine thought about initiating something more intimate with her, but decided against it, preferring the simple pleasure of coexistence. Wei seemed to agree, judging by her relaxed posture and steady breathing and the little muffled purrs she made every time Sabine touched her lower back or hips with gentle fingers.
And when they went for their walk together, they explored new spaces together, taking their time when they wanted and picking up the pace as they felt appropriate. Wei took greater interest in the birds and buzzing insects, and Sabine found more value in the hardy local flora, but they both shared in each others preferences and engaged with one another over the duration of the long hike, which lasted well into the afternoon and found them returning to the cabin sweaty, tired, but happy and healthy.
And that night when they lay down together, skin to skin and breaths intermingling, Sabine felt a deep sense of satisfaction and comfort that rarely had visited her before. She did not think about it too hard — knowing she could risk overthinking it — but instead lost herself in the moment, and in the embrace of her girlfriend. It was nice to let herself go.
She wondered if she could do it more often. The days went by, after all. Maybe it wasn't so bad.