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deliasbabe · 4 months

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I'll Travel Far Beyond the Path of Reason (Take me back to Eden)- Cordelia x reader (Part 1)

You and Cordelia get into a fight and you are attacked by witch hunters. If you couldnt tell by the summary, heavy HEAVY angst.

I've been working on this for over a year and if I don't post it now I'll continue to tweak it until the end of time. Enjoy babes and I'll see you for part 2!

Words: 8.6k

Warnings: Violence, Blood, ANGST, drugging, drug & alcohol use, PTSD

How could you have been so stupid?

It had started off innocently. You had always played the good cop to your supreme’s bad cop. She dispensed the punishment, stern but always loving, and you spared the girls from it as much as possible. It had become sort of a banter between the two of you, the way you would intercept the issues before they ever reached her office door, correcting the situation so well she only ever heard about it months after the fact in hushed whispers. She would always scold you, but there was a hint of a smile only you could see, and she never was mad for long. So, when the girls called you the other night and admitted they messed up, you climbed out of bed and drove across town without a second thought, and without waking your sleeping girlfriend.

You thought it was simple, they snuck out after curfew, went to a party, and drank a bit too much. But when the cops knocked on the coven’s door two days later, your girlfriend was blindsided, and you had learned their little screw up wasn’t so little.

Grand theft auto, to be exact. Seems they had left out the part where they took some asshats car for a joyride and crashed it, but that was after he had been a little too handsy with the youngest and tried to spike her drink. You called it penance, but your girlfriend called it-

“A felony, Y/N.” She spat, “They committed a felony, and you kept it from me.”

“I didn’t know all of the information.” You argued, “All I knew was they snuck out and needed a ride.”

“You still should have told me. I’m responsible for those girls.” Cordelia fumed, “I know I let you get away with it before, but this is too far. What am I supposed to tell their parents? That their own teacher helped them leave the scene of a crime?”

“Once again, Dee,” You lamented, “I didn’t know. They kept that tidbit of information private.”

It was supposed to be date night, the one day a month you could manage to drag your workaholic girlfriend from her office and away from her responsibilities. But she was seething over her glass of red and you couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise, so you quickly came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t going to be a pleasant evening, even if you were at one of the nicest places in town.

“You know that doesn’t matter.” She spit, “They could go to jail.”

“What would you have done if you’d known?” You asked, already knowing the answer, “If I had woken you up, what would you have done? Woken Mallory up so she could reverse time and make sure the whole thing didn’t happen? Magically move the dented pieces back into place? You couldn’t have done anything.”

“Don’t be condescending.” Cordelia growled, “You aren’t supposed to keep secrets from me, that’s not how this works. Especially when it comes to the girls. You should have said something.”

“So you could yell at them for sneaking out? So, when they did it again, they’d be too scared to call?” You asked, Cordelia shaking her head.

“They still lied to you,” She bit, “So your plan seems to have some flaws.”

“They were scared.” You argued, “They knew if they told me everything, I would’ve come to you.”

“You should have come to me regardless.” Cordelia spat, “I’m the headmistress of this academy and your supreme.”

“And I trust you with my life,” You said, “But right now you aren’t really showing your level head.”

And oh boy, if her eyes could shoot daggers, you’d be bleeding out on the floor. She scoffed, her jaw clenching and grinding as she mulled over her response. Normally, she would roll her eyes and grin at the joke, but she simply shook her head and grabbed her things, leaving the restaurant without another word.

“Delia…” You called after her, but she didn’t turn around, and your waitress was on you before you could even think to go after her, “I guess I’ll take the check.”

When you reached the parking lot, your car was gone, and you lolled your head back and let out a frustrated grunt as it started to drizzle. The symbolism wasn’t lost on you, walking across town in the rain only to come back with your tail between your legs. She was putting you through the ringer for this one, and while you couldn’t really blame her, she also wasn’t being completely fair. Not telling her the girls had snuck out was on you, one hundred percent. But you weren’t a mind reader, and you had absolutely no way of knowing the girls weren’t being truthful, you were just as surprised as she was. But still, you knew she needed someone to be angry with, now that the damage was done.

Still, an hour long walk in the now pouring rain seemed a bit excessive. The woman was blessed with the ability to transmutate but still left you stranded just to prove a point. You were lucky you had been in the city long enough to know your way around, especially at night. The choice to avoid the French Quarter added about twenty minutes to your trek, but it was the smarter option, given the string of muggings that seemed to plague the location, although the extra time didn’t help you escape your thoughts.

You and Cordelia had never fought like this. Sure, you bickered, but all it took was one well timed joke and the feeling was fleeting, replaced with poorly hidden smiles and ticklish sides. The arguments were meaningless, spurred on by minor miscommunications or the occasional poorly timed joke, never like this, if anything they were humorous. You knew Cordelia was protective, that she’d do anything for her girls, and you had grown to love her mama-bear tendencies, but she had never turned them on you.

You turned down an empty alley, a shortcut that would spit you out a few houses down from your destination, your desperation to get home overpowering your hatred of tiny, cramped, dimly lit spaces. You walked quickly, looking over your shoulder at every step, terrified that you would turn around and someone would be chasing you with an axe like the movies.

You glanced forward, a few more steps and you would be free, but as soon as you approached the exit, two men stepped into your view, and you stopped on a dime, “Going somewhere, witch?”

Witch Hunters.

Since the coven had gone public, more men were willing to join their ranks, and you turned on your heel and booked it the second they stepped in your direction. You never were a star athlete, though, and soon enough you were being pulled to the ground and restrained. You fought against it, earning a set of knuckles to the left side of your face, and you felt his ring scratch down your cheek as you tasted blood. You felt their hands everywhere, holding you down as three more blows hit, your stomach, the side of your ribs, and another to the face just for good measure. You tried to focus, but complete panic overwhelmed all your senses. You knew how to handle this. Cordelia had worked with you and trained you until you could do it in your sleep, but with the adrenaline pumping and the blood rushing through your ears you couldn’t seem to remember it at all, all you knew was that you had to get home to Cordelia to warn her, you couldn’t keep something from her again.

Somewhere in the haze you caught a flash of silver, a searing pain, and then the hands were gone. You didn’t remember pulling yourself up, but as you were dragging yourself back towards the house, you did remember having to dislodge your feet from under the dead bodies. It hurt to breathe, to stand, to move, but you mustered up what energy you could as you pulled yourself up the steps of the academy, wiping at your face as you spotted your car in the driveway, only for your hand to be covered in blood.

Your vision grew hazy as you reached for the doorknob, and you clumsily felt around till you were met with the cold, metal object, unable to trust your own eyes. You pressed your weight into the door, practically falling through and barely catching yourself on the entryway table. You spotted your lover in the kitchen, her back to you as you attempted to right yourself, “Dee…”

“I’m not talking to you.” She said shortly, shaking her head.

You lost your balance once more, falling into the wall this time. “No, Delia…” You tried again, your voice sounding strangled.

At the drop in your tone Cordelia was alarmed, shoulders squaring as she whipped her head around to meet your eyes. You didn’t think it was all that bad until you saw her expression, the way her eyes bugged out in horror, mouth gapping as she traced your form up and down, before her eyes landed on your stomach. You followed her gaze only to see a knife, and suddenly you were falling down, down, down.

You were pulsing in and out of consciousness, the world turning into a stop motion film. You saw her moving towards you, then she was on top of you, mouth forming around words and phrases you couldn’t seem to comprehend.

“What… Can you… Hold on… Stay with…”

You felt hands, first two on your face, tracing your cheekbone and calming you down. Then, you felt them everywhere, lifting you, and you fought against them with whatever strength you had left, deep laughs invading your mind as you felt those hands grip tighter and tighter. But then the rest of the hands were gone and there were those hands again, on your face and so soft, shushing you and lulling you into some limbo you didn’t know if you ever wanted to reach, running through your hair and grabbing your hand as you finally let the dark win.

“Just let it happen.”

Murmurs of familiar voices drew you into some semblance of consciousness. You couldn’t identify who was speaking, and for whatever reason, your eyelids felt like lead, unable to let even a sliver of light in.

But you could hear, the rustle of hair brushing against fabric, the tap of shoes.

“Not now.”

“You need to eat; it’s been two days.”

Then, a tone you recognized, still pleasant, but just enough bite to get the point across.

“I said not now.”

You tried to wiggle your fingers, flex your hands, show any sign of life, but there was some sort of disconnect between your body and mind, and it drove you nuts. Were you dead?

At the sound of the voice again, you wanted to reach out, to provide some comfort, but you couldn’t, and it made you want to scream. You were always claustrophobic, but this was a million times worse. You could feel your panic rising, the heat in your body constricting your lungs until you felt like you were suffocating. You heard a sound you couldn’t recognize, then the shuffling of feet.

“What’s going on?”

Then that voice, high pitched and panicked, “I don’t know.”

“Is she in pain? Do I need to get Mallory?”

That name, you knew that name, but why?

There was a pinch, then every nerve in your body was searing before going numb, the voices fading as you were desperately trying to claw your way back, losing your grip and falling into nothing once again.

When your eyes opened, the light blinded you and made your head throb, forcing you to shut them again. Slowly, you cracked one open at a time, trying to make sense of your surroundings. There were a pair of heels discarded by the bed, and the steady pounding of footsteps, one right after the other, a pause, and one right after the other again. You tried to lift your gaze up, only to be met with the glaring reflection of the sun rays in the mirror, and you shut your eyes and burrowed deeper under the covers. The footsteps stopped at the sound, stuttering against the hardwood, only to pick back up a moment later.

You cracked open one eye and looked down at the end of the bed, your girlfriend traversing the length of her bedroom, arms crossed, and a red thumbnail pinched between her teeth as she stared at the floor. You watched her for a moment, hair mused and lipstick smudged, wearing your favorite dress, and it almost brought a smile to your face, but then she turned around and you saw the dark maroon stain and everything came rushing back as your eyes snapped open.

She hadn’t changed, hadn’t washed her hands. The shoes discarded by your bed were the ones she was wearing, probably chucked to the side once the pain of the pacing had become too much to bear. You bit back tears, swallowed down the terror, and tried to speak, but your throat was dry and hoarse from the screaming. Your mouth moved over empty words, trying again and again until something finally fell out.

“You need to eat.”

Her gaze met yours, hands falling to her sides, but just as quickly as the relief had come, it was replaced by something haunted. She stepped towards you, arms reaching for you, then falling, then reaching again, until she settled on grabbing the sheets next to you, fingers fidgeting in the cotton. She met your eyes, looked away, looked back again, before choosing to stare at the headboard, “How are you feeling?”

You went with a joke, hoping to ease her discomfort, “Like I got stabbed.”

There was no laugh, no smile, not even a twitch at the corners of her mouth. You reached for her hand, rubbing your thumb along the back, but she pulled it away, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress as she stepped back. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Delia…” You called after her, images racing through your mind of the last time she left you alone, causing your heart to bang in your chest, but she was already out the door, her feet tapping on the stairs, growing quieter with each passing second.

When she finally returned, it felt like an eternity had passed. She handed you the glass without even sparing you a glance, searching the room for a moment before she returned to your side with full hands. The glass between your lips was quickly replaced by a thermometer, a blood pressure cuff slipped up your arm and squeezing as you whined in protest.

“Shh,” She chided you, her voice absent of any of the warmth that used to feel like coming home, “Your blood pressure is still elevated.”

“You need to eat.” You said again, only for her to ignore you, so you settled for questions, anything to make her actually talk to you. “How long was I out for?”

She glanced up at you, looking perplexed for a moment before shaking her head and refocusing on the task at hand. “Four days.” She finally said, her hands reaching for the nightstand and coming back with a vial.

“Is everyone ok?” You asked, watching her draw the liquid from the vial up into a syringe.

“The girls are fine.” She answered, too focused on checking for air bubbles to even spare you a glance. Something was wrong, you felt it in your bones, but she ducked and weaved through every emotion.

“Are you ok?” You asked, reaching for her but coming up short as she stepped back.

She looked at you then, eyes hazy as she shook her head, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” You challenged, only for her to glare at you.

“You need rest.” She said, her eyes leaving yours once more, lifting your blanket and repositioning your leg, “You’re still healing.”

You felt tears burning behind your eyes, the fear still lingering that if you dared to sleep, you wouldn’t wake up. “I want to talk to you.” You said, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked as you grabbed her arm, halting her movements.

Her face fractured then, but only slightly, and you swore you heard her sniffle back tears. You thought you had her, but then she was reaching and prying your fingers off of her, the alcohol wipe drying your skin and burning your nostrils. “You can,” She murmured, shaking her head once more, “After you rest.”

You shook your head as she uncapped the needle, trying to wriggle out of her grasp, but within moments you were frozen in place, the needle pinching your skin and warmth quickly spreading through your veins, making your body go limp and your eyes droop. “But…” You began, fighting to keep your eyes open, your mouth moving. She shushed you, bringing her hands to your face and pressing her lips to your forehead, but you knew it was only to placate you, to give you a sliver of hope that everything was alright.

Over the next few days, you barely saw her, despite being stationed in her bedroom. The girls came and kept you company, but every time you would ask about Cordelia, they would dance around the subject, sharing glances you couldn’t quite understand and making some excuse about paperwork before changing the subject entirely. They did their best to keep your spirits up, but they knew they weren’t who you wanted, and you tried to ignore the pitiful looks they threw in your direction when they thought you couldn’t see them.

The only time you saw her was when she was administering your medication, coming up with every excuse to not be able to stay during the day. She promised you more time in the evening, only to knock you out the moment you dared to ask about anything outside of the weather.

She wasn’t sleeping, you knew this because you lived in her bed and she wasn’t in it. That, and you had spent enough time studying her face over the past week that you noticed the bags under her eyes becoming darker and darker. She had finally changed her clothes, but you didn’t know how, given that she avoided you for a majority of the day. Maybe she was grabbing them after she forced you into unconsciousness, or maybe she stockpiled them in her office. You grew to hate the sunset, the orange haze making your skin crawl at the thought of what was to come. You felt violated from being forced into submission, and as the days dragged on, you couldn’t help but feel the fear that lodged itself in your throat every time she would appear.

A week in, you broke, curled into a ball with tears streaming down your face as you begged, but she just reached for the vial once again, murmuring something about how your body needed rest, always more rest. She reached to stabilize you and you retreated, pulling your legs close to your body and pushing further and further up the bed every time she would bridge the gap, almost knocking yourself to the floor in the process.

Cordelia didn’t understand, brow pinched together as you begged, “Please, just talk to me.” She shook her head imperceptibly, eyes blank as she reached for you again, and you shrieked, launching yourself off the bed and onto the floor, “No!”

Cordelia stared at you in shock, her eyes scanning your face for some semblance of reason, but you weren’t even looking at her, eyes trained on the syringe as your face contorted in fear. She followed your line of sight, then looked back at you, her stoic expression splintering as the realization dawned on her. The syringe clattered to the floor, and you finally tore your eyes away, staring back at her with that same terrified expression as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.” She choked, shaking her head as she forced herself to look away, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I can’t do this.”

You didn’t say anything as she walked out, couldn’t bring yourself to stop her, and as you sat on the floor and waited for someone to find you, you finally came to terms with your new reality, with the idea that even if you wanted it to, things would never be the same. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there, but eventually Mallory picked you up from the floor and got you back into bed, foregoing your nightly medication. As the night drew on with no sleep in sight, you found you craved it, at least it was peaceful, unlike the war raging in your mind.

Something changed that day. The oblivion you once fought tooth and nail to stay out of had become your safe haven. By the time Mallory had visited you the next morning, you had demanded it, morning, noon, and night. You didn’t see Cordelia once in the week that followed, although with how much you were sleeping, you wouldn’t have noticed even if she had payed you a visit, although you doubted she did. Your supreme had always prided herself on her communication, but you knew her well enough to know that when it came to the hard things, it was the first to go. You didn’t know what you would say if she did decide to talk to you, didn’t know if there was anything to say.

Once they were sure you could manage to get around on your own, they let you return to your room, forcing you back into reality and removing every coping mechanism you had. You kept to yourself for the first few days, downing Benadryl like it was water and sleeping through most of the day. On the third day, you managed to stumble down for dinner, only for the seat at the head of the table to remain empty the entire time. The girls were all thrilled to see you, talking your ear off about all the things you had missed, but in your haze you could barely pay attention.

From the little you did hear, it seemed your supreme had found a way to solve your dilemma, convincing the man to change his story and drop the charges in exchange for a brand new, much nicer car. A quick and dirty fix that was so unlike her, you had to wonder what state she was in when she gave the green light. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that what was done was done, but when you went back to your room it was all you could think about, staring at the ceiling for as long as you could manage before you were reaching for the Benadryl once again.

You ran out on day four, and with it, so did your patience. You had cried and wallowed and overthought for weeks on end, an endless pit that did nothing but drag you down. You couldn’t live that way anymore, so you left your room, taking up residence in the common area and hoping the chatter would keep you grounded. You talked and laughed with the girls, but no matter how hard you tried, it all felt forced, a failed distraction from the emptiness that took up residence inside your chest. The harder you pushed, the worse it felt, and by the time dinner rolled around, you had reached some fucked-up form of acceptance, resigning to the fact that you probably wouldn’t ever feel whole again.

You saw her then, at the head of the table, talking quietly with some of the younger girls, and you forced yourself to keep your head down, pushing at your food, afraid that if she met your eyes, she would bolt again. It didn’t matter, she didn’t look in your direction once, not even when your youngest student, Lottie, called your name and asked you both to watch an incantation she had just learned, or as she called it, “A magic trick”. Despite the tightness in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile at the innocence there, the way everything was still so new to her and full of wonder. You wished you still had that, like you had when you first came to the academy, before you learned of the consequences.

Cordelia was the first to leave the table, and the tension was palpable. You could feel everyone’s eyes drift to you, only to look away without a word. You grabbed your dish and headed towards the kitchen, depositing your untouched dinner in the trash and your plate in the sink.

“Well look who’s back to the land of the living.” You heard Madison call out from behind you, turning to face her. Madison was never one to beat around the bush, and you waited for the question to cut you like a knife, “Did you and Foxxy break up?”

You ground your teeth, jaw muscles flexing and releasing as you contemplated your answer, only to be hit with a punch to the gut when you realized you didn’t have one. You thought you had accepted it, whatever it was, but your eyes were glassy against your own volition, stomach twisting into knots as you spit out, “I don’t know.”

Madison’s smirk fell, the prideful look in her eyes replaced with something you couldn’t read. She didn’t push like you expected, she just nodded, and that was all you needed for your world to crack open, any strength you had left spilling out and vanishing. You grabbed your shoes and keys, heading for the door as they called out for you, saying you couldn’t leave, you weren’t strong enough yet, you could get hurt, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care if your stitches ripped and you bled out in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t care if you were hit by oncoming traffic and left to die by the side of the road. You didn’t care if you fell off a cliff and they had to fish your body out of the river. Everything, your entire life, your entire world, was gone. There was nothing left for you, it was taken, and you didn’t care what happened next.

You arrived at the swamp with nothing but a bottle of whiskey. Misty had taken you out there once to gather mud, told you how sometimes it was the only place she could go to clear her head, her sanctuary, and you thought it might help, but as you downed the bottle and laid on her bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were desecrating sacred land. You didn’t know how people did this, how they just kept going and moved on no matter what horrors they faced. You laid down and stared at the stars and cursed the world for spinning, for time moving, because you hadn’t moved in weeks. No matter what you tried, you were still trapped in that alley, in that bed, and nothing could pull you out of it.

Well, something could, or someone, maybe, if they tried, but even that wasn’t a sure thing. You would be an idiot if you didn’t acknowledge that this was more than just an issue with Cordelia, that even if you did talk, even if you did work it out, it wouldn’t fix everything.

But at least you wouldn’t feel so alone.

When you walked through the doors three days later, she was talking with a student at the foot of the stairs, her head raising involuntarily at the sound and her eyes locking with yours. You looked away quickly, leaving your muddy shoes by the door and depositing your keys on the counter, and by the time you went to head up the stairs to shower, she was gone.

She didn’t come to dinner that night, nor the night after, and despite the girls knowing enough to not ask questions, you could hear the faint whispers when they thought you weren’t paying attention. Lottie, however, wasn’t privy to this social knowledge, and she told you everything. Apparently, the three days you were gone was the most time that anyone had seen the supreme in a month. She was back to her usual self, she even started teaching classes again, but the second you came back, she disappeared once more.

You booked a ticket home that night for the following week, quietly packing your things over the course of the next few days. You didn’t know what the future for you held, but you did know you wouldn’t find any closure here, and you weren’t willing to continue subjecting the girls to whatever this was. It was too much, and you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to get out.

You did your best to avoid telling the girls, not wanting to cause yet another spectacle for them to gawk at, but they seemed to figure it out anyways, and you weren’t sure how. They asked questions about your return, you did your best to dodge them, and for a few days it worked, until the older girls cornered you two days before you were set to leave.

“When are you coming back?” Zoe asked, trying to be delicate as she rephrased the question for the 50th time.

You sighed, “I told you, I don’t know. This isn’t as big of a deal as you guys are making it out to be. I just have some things to take care of.”

“Cut the shit, bitch.” Madison sneered, rolling her eyes, “We’ve all seen the way you and our dear supreme have been skulking around. Are you coming back or not?”

You didn’t want to tell them the truth, knowing if you did then Cordelia was sure to find out about it. You didn’t know what would hurt worse, knowing you left and didn’t give her a chance to fix it, or her finding out and doing nothing. But these were your friends, and despite wanting to have control over the situation, wanting to have the chance to break your own heart, you couldn’t lie to them. “I don’t know.” You finally said, “I don’t think so.”

Madison stared at Zoe with a raised brow, the two having a seemingly silent conversation over your head, but Zoe simply nodded and smiled at you, “Ok, that’s all we needed to know.”

They helped you pack, spent every meal with you, and even slept in your room, wanting to see you as much as possible before you left. It was a little strange to you, but you didn’t necessarily mind it, especially once you realized that the more time they spent with you, the less time they had to talk to Cordelia. They planned a movie night send off for you, gathering all the girls in the living room and handing out popcorn and snacks. After the first movie, you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, Madison calling out for you.

“I left a twelve pack of coke in the greenhouse,” She yelled, “Can you go grab it? We’re almost out and I’m too lazy to get up.”

You rolled your eyes but complied, shaking your head as you wandered out toward the greenhouse, smiling to yourself for the first time in weeks. With the way the day had gone, it had almost made you feel guilty for leaving, almost made you change your mind, but the second you stepped through the greenhouse door, a familiar pair of eyes reminded you exactly why you were going.

When she glanced up at your smiling face you swore you saw a flash of happiness, but it was gone in a moment, replaced with that same look that had been haunting you for weeks, like you were intruding on something, but you still hadn’t figured out what. You felt your cheeks catch fire as you cleared your throat, not wanting to make this any more uncomfortable than it had to be, “Sorry, I just need to grab something, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Cordelia nodded, eyebrows furrowing as she glanced back down, and you felt your nerves prickle beneath your skin, anger swirling in your gut at her display of confusion, like she was clueless.

Still, you didn’t want to cause a scene, didn’t need the added weight to carry with you, so you bit your tongue, heading towards the opposite side of the greenhouse once you spotted the red cardboard. You walked back towards the door with your head down, trying to leave the situation as quickly as possible, hand on the knob and pulling, only for the door to not budge, smacking your head on the glass. You stepped back, grabbing the knob and tugging again, but the door still wouldn’t move. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not wanting to ask for help with something as simple as opening a door, but when you heard the blades of grass shuffle and the hushed whispers, you audibly groaned.

Cordelia glanced up, but only momentarily, “Is there something wrong?”

You sighed, “The door won’t open.”

You glanced back right as Cordelia looked up, her tone airy in that slight tell of annoyance, “Just open it.”

You glared back at her, “You try it then.”

She shook her head, “Just unlock it.”

“I can’t.” You huffed, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

Cordelia sighed, “I meant…”

“I know what you meant.” You shot back, obviously annoyed. You were doing your best to keep it together, to act cordial, but it was difficult when Cordelia was treating you like a first-year student. “I can’t. My powers have been…” You explained, biting down on a sigh, “Temperamental, lately.”

That seemed to peak the supreme’s interest, her head tilting as she took a step towards you, “Temperamental as in you’re going to rip the door off its hinges?”

You huffed, choosing to stare anywhere else that wasn’t her, “Temperamental as in they don’t work.”

You didn’t think much of it when you heard her start to walk closer, knowing she wanted this conversation to be over just as badly as you did and was probably looking for a way to get you out of there. You didn’t expect to feel her cold fingertips graze your stomach, finding the hem of your shirt and tugging up as you whipped your head towards her, instantly batting her hands away. She glared at you, reaching for the hem once again with one hand, “We might not have gotten all the silver out.”

You grabbed her wrist, halting her movements, and glared back, “I seriously doubt that’s the issue.”

She sighed, pulling her wrist from your hand as she stood up straight, and you swear you saw her roll her eyes, walking towards the locked door and focusing. You could hear the lock click, but when Cordelia went to turn the knob, it wouldn’t move. She tried again, jiggling the knob in case it was stuck, but it still wouldn’t budge, so she resorted to yanking, only to hear Madison call out, “We enchanted the locks, bitch!”

Cordelia stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before you heard her also groan, and you couldn’t help but snicker at her frustration, at realizing what you had already known. She turned briefly towards the sound, before sighing and returning to her workstation and resuming whatever she was doing.

At some point, you started pacing the length of the room, arms crossed as you waited for the girls to give up, knowing they likely were standing outside and listening to the whole thing. You didn’t know how long it went on for, but your patience was growing thin and your steps were becoming firm, stomping back and forth, back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Cordelia finally sighed, glancing up with her jaw pitched forward, another tell of annoyance.

“Contemplating murder.” You sassed, Cordelia shaking her head as she tried to focus.

“Could you stop?” She asked in that same airy tone, “You’re distracting.”

You chuckled darkly, “What are you going to do? Knock me out again?”

She rested her hands on the table, her face unimpressed and her tone painfully even, “You needed the rest.”

Another snide laugh fell from your lips as you turned on your heel, still pacing as you mumbled, “Don’t tell me what I fucking needed.”

“You were seriously injured…” Cordelia sighed, like she was scolding a child.

You whipped back towards her, eyes blazing as you bit, “I needed you.”

“I was there.” Cordelia said, shaking her head for what felt like the millionth time.

“No, you weren’t.” You shot back as the supreme sighed.

“I’m sorry if I offended you or hurt you…” She began, but you couldn’t stand to hear it.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Cordelia.” You interjected, Cordelia throwing up her hands.

“What do you want me to say?” She asked, like you were being unreasonable.

You stood your ground, digging your heels in as you fired back, “Something that doesn’t sound like you’re reading from a script would be nice.”

“I’m not!” She yelled, throwing her head back as you resumed pacing once again, trying desperately to keep yourself in check so you wouldn’t explode.

She watched you pace, back and forth, back and forth, waiting for what she knew was coming, what she couldn’t avoid. It took you longer than she expected, a million questions pilling up on the tip of your tongue, one after the other until they all started to slide out like an avalanche.

“Are you still pissed off at me? Is that what this is?”

“No, I’m not.”

You turned on your heel, staring at her once again, your tone exasperated and snappy, “Then what the hell is it? Because you can barely stand to look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“No, you aren’t.” You shot back, “You haven’t for weeks, you haven’t talked to me…”

Cordelia sighed, asking again, “What do you want me to say?”

“Something.” You spit out, your volume increasing, “Anything!”

You stared at her for a moment, waiting, but she just stared back, mouth gaping like she couldn’t even begin to fathom how you both got into this situation. You turned away again, biting down on a scream of frustration and resisting the urge to bang your head against the wall until you knocked yourself out. You didn’t know if you wanted to burn the place down or burst into tears, but you could feel the pressure building in your chest, and you were terrified of the outcome. The words fell out of your mouth before you had the time to register them, “Is it because I failed?”

You could hear the confusion in her tone, “What?”

You swallowed down the tears that threatened to fall, cursing yourself as you turned to face her, “I failed. You taught me how to deal with witch hunters. We went over it time and time again, and I still couldn’t…”

She couldn’t stand the sight of your watery eyes, training her gaze on the table as she croaked out, “No, god no…”

“Then what is it?” You asked again, whatever fight you had left in you disappearing, “Because I’ve been wracking my brain for weeks now, looking for some kind of reason...”

You watched her crack, just a bit, nose twitching against the ghost of tears as she shook her head and stuttered, “It’s not your fault, none of it is your fault. It’s…”

She stopped and shook her head, bracing herself on the desk as her chest heaved. You gave her a moment, not wanting to screw anything up when you were so close to getting the answers you had been searching so desperately for, but when she didn’t move to continue, you prompted her, “It’s?”

She looked up at you then, really looked at you, with tears in her eyes, moments away from spilling over, and you stepped toward her on instinct. She looked back down, clearing her throat as she tried to right herself, “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

You stepped toward her again, not sure you heard her right, “What?”

“It’s my fault you got hurt.” She clarified, and you shook your head, unable to speak, but she silenced you regardless, “I took the car, I made you walk home. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and you had to pay the price.” You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, but then you heard hers, weak and broken, “And I can’t ever express to you how sorry I am for that.”

“You didn’t know…” You squeaked, “You couldn’t know…”

She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. It’s my job to protect my girls, all my girls, and I failed. I failed to protect you.”

“You- You saved me.” You stuttered, and the supreme shook her head.

“I fixed the damage I caused.” She sneered, but you knew her tone wasn’t directed at you.

“Delia...” You tried, taking another step towards her, but she held out her hand.

“If I can’t prioritize the safety of the girls over my own emotions, I’m no better than my mother.” She spit between gritted teeth, looking away to wipe at a tear once she saw your hurt expression.

You shook your head, “You could never be your mother.”

She shook her head, but didn’t respond, so you stepped forward, closing the gap between you and reaching for her, but she pushed you away, and that’s when it hit you.

She wasn’t trying to hurt you, she wasn’t punishing you, she was punishing herself. All this time you had been flipping your brain inside out, trying to find the meaning behind every look, every blank expression. But she wasn’t looking at you in disgust, she was in pain.

But the way she was looking at you now, you knew that look, had seen it time and time again, when she wanted something but couldn’t bring herself to ask for it, so you did. “Delia? Kiss me? Please?”

The look morphed as her brows pinched together, her eyes going dim as she shook her head. You begged and pleaded, wanting nothing more than for that look to return, for her to touch you and hold you and for everything to be ok again, but she wouldn’t relent. As soon as you started pleading, she stepped back and looked away, unable to bear the sight of you.

Something finally snapped, and everything you had been pushing away for the past month came rushing in like a tidal wave. You felt it buzzing in your chest, creeping up and up and up, spreading out to your limbs and making your entire body burn. You stalked towards the door, tugging on it again and again and again, bracing your feet on the walls and putting your whole body weight behind it. You looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t care.

At some point, Cordelia must have turned around, watching you struggle for a moment before she finally spoke, “It won’t open.”

“I don’t care.” You seethed, “It needs to.”

You settled for sitting on the ground, bracing yourself against a table and kicking with your feet, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” You spat, punctuating each word with a kick. When that didn’t seem to work, you settled for throwing your entire body against the door, hoping if you couldn’t break the lock, then you could at least crack the doorframe.

“You are still healing.” Cordelia said, walking towards you and reaching, but you batted her away, “You shouldn’t be doing any strenuous activity for at least another two weeks.”

You finally stopped, your body vibrating as you stared Cordelia down, “I don’t care. I have a plane to catch tomorrow.” Her brow furrowed, and you turned back towards the door, banging on it with your fists, “I have things to do!”

“Where are you going?” Cordelia asked, arms crossing.

You turned back towards her, throwing up your hands, “Home, Cordelia. Where else would I go?”

You watched her face contort, watched the hurt flash across her eyes, and you couldn’t stand it, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Cordelia scoffed, beginning to grow defensive, “Didn’t you want me to look at you?”

“Not like that.” You bit, “You don’t get to look at me like that, like I’m hurting you. Not after what you did.”

“According to you, I didn’t do anything.” She snapped, and you knew she was baiting you now.

“Exactly. You did nothing.” You spit between gritted teeth, whipping around and punching the door as hard as you could.

“You’re bleeding.” Cordelia stated, staring at the smear of blood on the door, then glancing at your busted knuckles.

“Good.” You bit, punching the door again, and a third time for good measure.

“Stop.” She called out sternly, but you were too far gone to listen, hitting, scratching, clawing, and kicking the door repeatedly as you lost it completely, “Stop!”

“I need to get out of here.” You huffed, “I need to go home.”

Your face smacked against the door as you slammed against it with your shoulder, tasting blood as you swallowed down the tears that were forming. Memories ripped through your mind in quick succession, a blow to your face, a kick to your ribs, and then the room constricted in time with your lungs, the walls moving closer, and closer.

You started screaming at some point, you felt it, but you could barely make it out in between the gaps in your heartbeat that was pulsing in your ears. You threw yourself against the door, harder and harder as the tears flowed in lava rivers down your face. Cordelia reached for you, shushing you and grabbing the empty space as you pulled away, screaming about home, how you needed to go home, get on a plane and never come back. How she hurt you and she didn’t care, she never cared, how all of this was a mistake, how you were a mistake.

You felt her hands grab you quickly, spinning you around before you could bat her away, and then her lips were on yours and she was kissing you hard, hand pushing and pulling and grabbing anywhere they could reach, leading you away from the door and bumping into anything in your path. She kissed you like she was starving, teeth clashing and biting, nails scratching and pinching and ripping, but you were the same, and now that you had her, you couldn’t let her go. You let every part of her invade your senses, her wet cheeks pressing against your own, her gritty hands and cold rings and the taste of red wine on her tongue.

You didn’t come up for air until she pushed you against the opposite wall, lungs burning and desperate for oxygen, but even as she pulled back, you leaned forward, not wanting to face whatever came next. Your chests heaved into one another as you both stared wide eyed, and in that split second of nothing it all came crashing down. You watched her, watched her watch you, felt her chest push against you and a sob tear out of her throat, and you followed right behind her, closing your eyes as you braced for her to pull away, leaving you cold and empty once again.

Instead, she rested her forehead against yours, whimpering I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and I love you over and over and over again as she pressed her mouth to yours, pushing air into your lungs and sucking it right back out, her hands on your forearms, anchoring you in place. You held onto her hair like a lifeline, your legs giving out from exhaustion and suddenly you both were falling, but she didn’t let go.

You landed on your knees and collapsed into her, her arms wrapping around you as she pulled you to her chest, her lips pressed to your forehead and fingers carding through your hair as she whispered that same mantra, over and over and over again. You didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know if she knew what she was doing, but with every pull of her fingers it felt like your memories of the past month were being extracted one by one, racing across your vision as the tears gave way to wails of anguish, her own cries increasing in time with yours. You felt it all over again, every ounce of emotion like it was the first time, and you didn’t know how she was doing it, or why.

When it was over, you had nothing left, no tears, no voice, no screams, nothing. You looked up at Cordelia in a daze, but she just smiled sadly back at you. You tried to speak, but your brain was fried, exhaustion quickly taking over your senses. Cordelia looked down at you knowingly, her fingers running down your cheeks as she shushed you, but you shook your head, afraid that if you gave in, you would wake up alone. She shushed you once more, kissing your forehead as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, it’s ok.”

#reblogging for the daytime peeps

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