Chapter Text
A soft staccato rapped against the closed door, drawing Scylla’s attention away from the book spread out on her desk. She set down her pen on the tiny notebook filled with delicate yet crisp handwriting and stood up. Her brow furrowed a bit as she peeked out the window. It was still a bit early, nowhere near meal time. Dusk was barely settling in. Through the open window she could hear the pounding of footsteps as cadets jogged in formation and the random shouts of drill instructors egging their charges on.
Approaching the door, she swung it open to reveal an exhausted looking Raelle. The blonde was slightly hunched over, palm flat against the door frame. The tenseness in her arm and shoulder showed the hand was supporting her more than she would let on. Dirt streaked her face and what looked like dried blood worryingly clung to the spot right behind her ear.
The same spot Scylla loved to tease with soft lips when they were alone.
“Raelle?” she couldn’t hide the concern in her voice.
“Hey,” Raelle tried to straighten her stance. She winced at the movement, barely hiding it with a muted grimace. Her training uniform was stained dark brown and tiny droplets of reddish liquid...she hoped it was water...clung to her eyelashes and shirt. Her jacket was no where in sight.
“What happened?” Scylla ushered her in with gentle hands.
“Hand to hand today.” Raelle limped into the room, as Scylla shut the door. The brunette quickly turned back around as she continued, “Outside in the Pits. Abigail and Swythe decided it was the perfect time to remember they pretend to hate each other.” A shrug, “Libba’s unit jumped in.”
“And you couldn’t let High Atlantic handle it herself.” Scylla concluded.
“Unit unity, right?”
Scylla shook her head, walking up and placing her hands on Raelle’s shoulders, “You look terrible, why haven’t you gone to the infirmary?”
“You should see the other guy.” Raelle tried to joke, but it came out as more of a pained grumble. “And, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Tired and bleeding.” she touched the flecks of dried blood. She chewed on her bottom lip as she felt the small cuts, healed but still there.
“It’s nothing. Barely a scratch back home. Not even worth talkin’ ‘bout.” Raelle tried to assure her. “Just need to walk it off.”
“Rae,” Scylla swiped her thumb against the curve of her jaw, “You can barely stand. You’re not walking anything off.” Her eyes roamed over the other girl, checking for any other visible injuries, “How did you even get here?” The Pits and training grounds were nowhere near the Necro barracks.
“Wanted to see you,” she blinked at Scylla’s look, “Tally and Glory might have helped me.”
“Of course they did.” because everyone knew Raelle would have dragged herself over there anyways. At least the other two cadets didn’t let her be a complete idiot and end up face down in the middle of the road somewhere. “Where was Bellweather?”
“Shit talking Swythe’s Unit about how a fixer kicked their blaster and knower’s asses even after they tried to jump me from behind.”
Unit Unity. “Come on, Collar. Let’s get you out of these clothes and in bed.”
A wicked grin, “Best orders I’ve heard all day.”
The eye roll could have been felt a mile away. It probably was, “You’re in no shape for anything. You need to rest, and you’re filthy.”
“You like it a little dirty.”
Scylla quirked an eyebrow, leaning in to let her whispered words brush against her ear, “I like it when you can’t even make it to my bed because you need me so badly. When you pick me up and I can feel how strong you are, feel every single muscle in your arms, when I know you’re going to make me feel so good.”
Scylla pulled back to see blown pupils focused on her. Raelle tried to bend in, hands already reaching for her face, when Scylla held a hand against her chest, “I also like it when you don’t look like someone beat you up and can actually stand without being in pain.”
“W-What?” Raelle blinked slowly, mind not catching up.
Scylla pushed her back gently, “Raelle, you couldn’t lift a feather right now, let alone me.”
“I could lift a feather.” Raelle muttered.
An exasperated sigh, “Come on,” she tugged at the bottom of the mud caked shirt and pulled it up and off, leaving her only in her sports bra. Her hands absently tossed the garment to the floor as they slid down a slightly bruised chest.
“You smell nice”
“I’m not covered in mud.” she made quick work of the belt and helped Raelle shimmy out of the rest of her pants, boots, and socks. “Go lie down.”
Raelle only nodded, easing herself over to the bed and dropping onto the cool sheets. She landed on her belly with a groan.
Scylla scooped up the discarded clothes, moving them over to a pile in the corner before plucking out a fresh shirt. Leave it to her girlfriend to get into an actual fistfight over something that didn’t even involve her. Of course Raelle would jump into the fray headfirst without a care that she might get hurt. She could easily see the younger girl throwing herself into battle, taking on the entire other unit. Necros didn’t really work with units the way the other soldiers did. They didn’t fully understand the sense of...camaraderie they possessed. And Raelle had told her more than once about how Bellweather was an arrogant brown noser who thought she was better than everyone else because of her last name. But, she also had seen how Raelle started to become friends with Bellweather and Tally. How she cared about them. And, even if she hadn’t, Raelle was loyal.
She had proven her loyalty to Scylla more times than she could count.
“Awake?” Scylla gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed near Raelle’s hip, “Want to put this on? I can get you some water.”
Raelle mumbled into her pillow.
Scylla couldn’t help but smile at the cuteness, “Sleep for a bit. Then, you should take a shower. It’ll help you feel better. And, you won’t stink so much.” She tenderly rubbed her palm up and down the path of Raelle’s spine and placed the clean shirt on top of the locker near the bed, knowing Raelle was too worn out to change into it.
Raelle turned her head, squinting one eye up at her, “Take a nap with me.”
“I need to finish this, first.” she had to complete those notes for training later that night, “And we barely fit on this bed. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Wouldn’t hurt me.” the words sent a bolt of guilt through Scylla, because hadn’t she already? “Finish what?” she groped blindly at the bed until Scylla offered her hand. She barely tilted her head, peeking over her shoulder, “Shit, were you busy? You were doin’ somethin’.”
Scylla rubbed the pad of her thumb over Raelle’s cracked knuckles, unable to stop the burst of affection inside of her as the southern drawl became more pronounced. “Just a few notes.”
“‘M sorry.” Raelle let her head fully turn back into the pillow, “Go’n. Finish. Didn’ mean to interrup’.”
Yeah, Raelle was two seconds away from falling asleep. “You didn’t.” She bent over, pressing a small kiss to the back of her shoulder, “Rest, baby.”
Raelle was out before she finished her sentence.
Allowing herself a few moments, Scylla gazed fondly down at the soldier. Her back rose and fell evenly with each breath. There were a few patches of blue and purple on the otherwise flawless skin. Hair not tied up in braids was damp and tangled. The chain of her medal flashed as the sunbeams filtered in.
Scylla traced the cut of her shoulder blade, letting her fingertips trace a line down to the band of her boyshorts. Her other hand held Raelle’s, not wanting to break the connection the simple touch created. She cradled it as if it were the most sought after treasure in the world.
It might have been.
A warmth sparked inside of her. It grew into a comforting blaze. Like a crackling fire on a cold winter’s night. She could stay there forever. Watching over this headstrong temperamental woman who skipped the infirmary and dragged herself all the way across Base just to fall asleep in her bed.
Raelle more than once told her she liked it. Liked to be where Scylla was. Be able to wake up in her arms and see her smile before heading off to training.
Raelle was so battered and bruised inside. Held so much hurt and pain. Scylla could feel it. Knew it just as well as she knew her own. Understood what it was like to be broken. Yet, Raelle was there. Warm and soft and no longer wanting to get herself killed.
Scylla shuddered at the thought of Raelle dying on the front lines for an oppressive and unjust army. Having her life taken from her because she was different. Special. Because of who her parents were.
The military took and took, and they never cared. Never gave a damn about what it cost. About the shattered lives left behind. About the cruelty inflicted on people just because they had values and opinions of their own.
People, who went about their days, not caring that witches were forced to protect them. Taking for granted that every day a witch died so that they could act as if nothing was wrong with the world. Like they weren’t the savages forcing witches into a sick sort of blood sacrafice for their own satisfaction. Slaves sent to battle so they could stay home and drink wine and feel good about themselves.
Raelle was training, her body bruised and bleeding, and all so she could participate in some military industrial complex that targeted her from birth as another body to be sent to slaughter.
Whether they burned at the stake or burned on the battlefield, they still burned.
My pop is a civilian.
My mama died.
Raelle knew the costs. Had already borne them. And, past all the reckless rebellion and questioning of authority, she still took the oath. She still talked about her dad like he was the best man on the planet. Her mom was her hero. She questioned the army, but was still there. She secretly held a kernel of optimism that they could have a life together. She and Scylla.
She didn’t turn her hatred against those who took from her.
She turned it inside.
And then she let it be replaced by Scylla.
Scylla, who was supposed to recruit her. Bring her to the Spree. Show her how she could use all the pain and grief inside to exact revenge and bring about true change in this world.
Bring about freedom.
Scylla believed in the Cause. She would never forget how the army brutally murdered her parents. She would never accept that forcing young women to fight in other people’s battles was right. Was ok.
But, something inside of her was shifting. She felt love more than anger. Happiness more than grief.
She felt love for Raelle.
Who was asleep in her bed after fighting someone else’s fight. Because that’s who she was.
She silently wished Raelle would never have to die for someone else.
“Scyl?” a sleepy voice pulled the necro out of her thoughts.
“Yeah, Rae, I’m right here.”
Raelle squeezed her hand, “Didja finish?”
Scylla swallowed, “Yeah, babe. I finished.”
“Good.” she shifted, “Come to bed.”
“Ok.” Scylla kicked off her boots and stretched out on the bed. She snuggled into a sleep warmed body.
“Stop thinkin’ so hard, beautiful..” Raelle ordered as she began to drift back to sleep.
Scylla let her eyes close, burrowing deeper into the embrace.
The way out is in.
Maybe the way out...was in Raelle.