forthsofar | I can wear no adequate protection, everything comes crashing in

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sabrina

I can wear no adequate protection, everything comes crashing in

It's a wet day, full of cold and bluster and unpleasantness, and Rosie's more than glad the two of them have decided to stay in for the duration. They have no concrete plans aside from curling up beneath as many blankets as they can pile on Sabrina's bed, watching movies and eating junk food until they're absolutely sick of both. Later, Nick and Charlie may stop by to share in some of it, but for now it's a girl's afternoon and Rosie can't think of anything more perfect.

"I'm only saying," Rosie says as they both go into the kitchen, "that if we alternate watching one of your terrible monster movies with something a bit lighter, we'll be able to...appreciate the contrast more." She grins. "And even if that's not true, you have to agree it's a convincing argument."

Turning away, she starts opening the pantry cupboards, looking for more snacks to bring back to their little nest in Sabrina's room.

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"Your spirit doesn't feel lighter when you see an obviously fake giant snake try to eat people?" Sabrina pursues cheerfully, both the conversational topic and the pretty girl in her kitchen. "Or what about gorillas killing to protect diamonds?"

She's perhaps on a kick about jungle and tropically located movies; maybe it's a desire to see a different climate, though she hadn't even been to the ocean before Darrow.

"Or," she drawls, watching Rosie with a mildly besotted sort of intent, "we could choose from each other's most loved genre--"

There's a bug crawling on the counter, black and bigger than it should be. It's so close to Rosie.

All it once it feels like strings she wasn't even aware of have snapped free and she's darting over, striking the bug with the flat on her hand and feeling it burst against her skin. She stands there, her shoulders heaving with breath, her eyes wide.

"If it's diamonds you want," she retorts, looking over her shoulder at Sabrina with a soft, adoring light in her eyes that matches the faintly awestruck look on the other girl's face that Rosie will never get tired of bringing out in her, "there's that brilliant mystery film I told you about, where they get a band of thieves together and--"

She stutters into silence as Sabrina rushes at her, slamming her hand down on the counter with a loud slap that almost echoes through the room. For one long moment, then another, the two girls just stare at each other, frozen in place.

"What was..." Rosie says, turning the rest of the way to face her. "What are you doing?"

Sabrina can only hear her own breathing for what feels like an eternity, though she's sure it's only a few seconds. "There was a bug," she says, sounding small and helpless. "It was so near you..."

She turns over her hand, revealing a smashed black bug and slimy ichor coating her palm.

When she turns her face toward Rosie, she looks absolutely stricken, somehow panicked and heartbroken at the same time. Tears spring hot and fast to her eyes, and she feels them drip to her cheeks, then hears them hit the counter.

"It was so close to you," she says, and then, without further preamble, she bursts into loud, ragged sobs.

The last time Rosie can remember Sabrina seeming this upset, this small and feeble, was at the end of the summer; that long and terrible month where Nick was not Nick and everything had nearly come crashing down. Her heart lurches in her chest, even as confusion still wheels a bit in her brain, searching for some kind of explanation why this time around.

"A bug?" she repeats, disbelieving until Sabrina turns her hand palm-up, revealing shattered carapace and that dark smear of fluid. "Oh, no, it's...I'll..." she murmurs, already moving to get a paper towel from the roll. "We'll clean it up, and then--"

It's at that moment that Sabrina bursts into a flood of tears, and Rosie moves on some kind of instinct, forgetting entirely about snacks or paper towels or even the disgusting remains of the insect on the other girl's hand as she throws her arms around her, holding her close.

Sabrina's aware that she's weeping as if her heart's broken, and maybe it feels that way, and she's not entirely certain why, only that it's all coming out of her, this awful torrent of feelings. She's stiff and frozen in Rosie's arms, for a few moments while she tries to work out what's wrong.

And then the warmth that always comes from being held by Rosie melts her enough that she turns and presses her face into Rosie's shoulder. The hand that's clean finds its way to clench in the hem of Rosie's shirt, and the hand that's not simply hangs at her side.

She might not be entirely certain why she's crying, but it feels strangely good, and freeing, to sob against Rosie, safe in her arms, there in the kitchen.

Sabrina's rigid in her arms for a minute, shaking and sobbing, and all she can do is hold her and wait. When she collapses, it's almost all at once, a quick sag against her as her face drops to the crook of Rosie's neck, and she only holds her tighter, resting a hand at the back of her head, her fingers pushing a little into the moonstone-colored curls. She doesn't say anything beyond a few soft, murmured noises of comfort; things without shape or word, just feeling.

They stay like that, holding each other, until the hitch in Sabrina's breath has calmed to something occasional. "Sabrina," Rosie says, her hand rubbing a gentle circle along the small of her back, "let me clean you up, okay? We'll do that, and we'll go to your room. Or stay here, whatever you like."

While Sabrina's only beginning to understand, as the tears pour out of her, why she might be suddenly so upset, she knows she's safe and held. The sobs become less wracking and harsh, and slowly, she's able to breathe in the warmth and comfort that comes with Rosie's embrace. By the time Rosie's really speaking to her, Sabrina's able to nod a little, reluctantly disentangling herself.

The urge to apologize rises, but she lets it fall away. This is her Rosie, and she knows that her Rosie, her boys, they would rather she fall apart with them, than to make herself go through it alone. She wouldn't have understood a thing like this even a few months ago, but she's sure now.

"Okay," she whispers. "And then back to my room. I just want to curl up in bed with you."

"Then we'll do that," she says, her hand finding Sabrina's clean one, their fingers linking as she leads her to the sink. She turns on the water, dampening a paper towel and gently reaching for Sabrina's other hand. The remnants of the bug are still disgusting, making her stomach turn, but she wipes up every trace. Once done, Rosie puts Sabrina's hand beneath the faucet, adding soap and scrubbing gently until she's fully clean. Turning off the water, she finds a soft kitchen towel, using it to dry her hand off.

The brittleness she can still see in Sabrina's face, the hush of her voice and the deep and miserable well of her eyes, is almost more unsettling than the sudden, sharp reaction that had preceded everything. As they go back to Sabrina's room, Rosie watches her carefully, only speaking once they're back within the warmth and comfort of the bed.

"What happened?"

She watches Rosie intently, as if some great secret could be gleaned from the way Rosie carefully cleans and dries her hand, and it's true that her whole heart hurts in the very best sort of way at letting Rosie fuss over her.

Climbing back into bed, wrapping herself around Rosie, she's suddenly exhausted without without being sleepy. She doesn't answer for a moment, pressing her face back into Rosie's neck for a moment to breathe her in, and then, after a shaky exhale, she does.

"I saw the bug on the counter, and it looked like-- like one of the ones from when Marcus was possessed. I know it wasn't. I'm actually pretty sure it's just some random bug that's survived the winter." She makes herself breathe, in and out. "But it looked like them, and it was near you, and I just needed it dead. And then I was looking at it, and I was just so sad."

Sabrina curls herself around her, arms wrapping around Rosie's middle as her face goes back to the soft curve of her shoulder, and Rosie arranges the blankets over them as best as she can without dislodging her. She waits, holding her close, letting the silence play out for however long it needs to--and when Sabrina starts to talk, she listens to every word.

Rosie hadn't been privy to everything with Marcus, but she'd known it was awful, maybe even worse than that word could really describe. She'd worked with Nick and Charlie to find a way of helping Sabrina when the time came, and had trusted that it would work, but once it was done and Marcus was recuperating the four of them had flung themselves into the end of the term at school and the brighter, happier distractions of the holidays. It had all seemed alright at the time, but looking at Sabrina now, Rosie wishes they'd done something other than cover Nick's flat in chintzy decor and pretend everything was fine.

"It wasn't one of those bugs," she echoes, tucking a strand of Sabrina's hair behind her ear. "Those bugs are gone, they're not...I'd tell you it's safe, and I'd know it was true, but it didn't feel that way just now, did it?"

Sabrina closes her eyes, already feeling the sort of ache that comes from really, truly crying, and turns her face into that gentle touch. Her throat works a little as she swallows, grounded by Rosie's breathing.

"It wasn't one of them," she agrees. "They disappeared when the demon did. I just-- sometimes I worry about you all so much. It doesn't seem like I can possibly-- and I know I'm not meant to just protect you all from everything."

But it seems a fair trade, for how much danger she attracts just by existing.

"I keep almost losing everyone I love," she whispers. "I couldn't bear it."

"Oh, Sabrina," Rosie breathes, a low, sharp pain of grief in her chest as she listens to the sad whisper of her friend's voice. They've had months of danger, of needing to sacrifice for one another in so many ways--big and small--and for a moment the enormity of it almost overwhelms her too. Even though they'd come through each instance somehow better and stronger than they'd been before, Rosie can't say that means they should have gone through any of it at all.

More than that, neither should Sabrina. Swallowing hard, Rosie squeezes her tight before pressing a firm, fierce kiss to the center of her forehead. "You protect all of us, in so many ways," she says, because denying that is something she knows she couldn't do. "Not just with magic. I'd mind those rumors about the four of us a whole lot more if I didn't have you and Charlie to walk to class with, for one. But that's not all you should be. That's not all you are, to any of us."

Rosie takes a deep, sighing breath, letting it steady her a little further. "You haven't lost any of us, even after everything that's happened, but...you know we couldn't bear it if we lost you, either."

These aren't new concepts, and Sabrina's heard the words before, in different forms-- somehow, it's here, in this moment, with Rosie acknowledging the constant battles, the sometimes horrible things she's done, that she hears it more fully. Rosie's given her something to think about, to learn, and she peers up from where she's been hiding her face off and on-- no longer embarrassed by the depth of her feelings.

She knows they couldn't bear to lose her. She knows it.

But hearing it said aloud so plainly, at this time, sends fresh tears down her cheeks, for reasons she can't quite understand. "I've had to go so far already," she whispers. "Engagements with Dark Lords, and embracing the Morningstar in me. Nearly killing Nick. All for good reasons, for the best reasons, but what-- Rosie, what if I have to go further? What if I take on more and more darkness?"

The real questions hang unasked.

Will you still love me?

How much darkness would be in me for you to stop?

Rosie had all but expected that new wave of tears, but the sight of them still twists her heart a bit. She kisses the shining track of each as they course down Sabrina's cheeks, the touch of her lips soft and soothing and the bitter taste of salt on her tongue by the time she pulls away. "No matter how far you go," she says, and the sudden steel in her voice surprises her, the quiet ferocity behind her words, "the light in the rest of us will pull you back."

Once it's out, Rosie realizes how true it all is. They're all beacons for each other, in a way; her and Charlie most of all, lacking the connection Nick and Sabrina have to the Dark Lord, but each of them have some shining pull, something to draw the others out of wherever they might sink. She'd felt it in the touch of Nick's hands as he murmured an incantation to ease her pain during those dark days in the Kagura throne room; in Charlie's quiet, listening expression on the nights they go out to dinner when the other two are on a date; in Sabrina charging up the steps of David's house while clouds swirled ominously in the sky.

They guide each other through, and keep each other safe, and Rosie knows something like that will never stop no matter what else comes their way.

Sabrina's long since strayed from the Path of Light; she doesn't suppose there's any such thing beyond what people call themselves, the paths they walk. It's all names.

But she believes in the light that Rosie has, that Charlie has, that she knows to be in Nick and herself co-existing with darkness. She believes in their bond, and there's a benediction in the way Rosie kisses away her tears. "I believe it," she whispers, leaning in to taste the salt on Rosie's lips. "When that day comes, you'll bring me home."

The words feel more like an oath than anything else, one exchanged before them and sealed with the salt of Sabrina's tears, the sweetness of Rosie's mouth. She's felt like this before, standing and holding Charlie's wounded hands in desecrated church.

They've exchanged a lot of kisses--and many of those in this very bed, wrapped up in blankets and each other's arms just like they are now--but this one now, the soft press of Sabrina's lips against hers, feels different from any of the others that had come before. There's an importance there, a pledge and promise, and Rosie means to live up to every bit of it.

"All of us will," she says. "Charlie, and me, and Nick. Whatever home we have here, or will, it's only complete when it's the four of us."

It feels like something new sliding into place, something she'd known at the back of her mind for months, but hadn't found the ability to articulate until now. Inevitably, the four of them will find a place, will come together in one spot and stay. They have that now, using Nick's apartment as a home base of a kind, but the other three of them have places of their own, too; roommates and guardians, family and friends, bedrooms full of their own clutter. If they stay, if Darrow lets them stay, to grow older together and start new lives, it only makes sense for it to be together.

Sabrina shivers. It's a bit of prophecy, she thinks, but the best sort.

"You're right," she says softly. "I can almost see it now. A house in the countryside, maybe, with lots of rooms, for whatever we want. We can give that to each other, that home. No matter what it looks like."

She knows she'll be able to leave here when it's time, because Dan is here with Marcus now-- even if it's not quite time yet. After a moment's thought, she ends up pressing another kiss to Rosie's lips, her eyes still dark but far more lucid.

"I have an idea. Just for right now. Because I'm a little cold, and sticky from crying."

"Not too far in the countryside," she says, chancing a smile now that they're on easier, more comfortable ground again. "I mean, wherever we move, whenever, somebody's going to have to teach me to drive anyway, because it's probably an absolute pain getting out there on the bus."

Sabrina kisses her then, relief and reassurance and love poured into the gentle press of her lips, and Rosie sighs out a quiet breath. "What are you thinking?" If Sabrina has an idea, Rosie knows too well it could be just about anything, but better to ask now instead of waiting to be surprised.

Sabrina hums thoughtfully. "I suppose I should learn how, too. It was never on the list of things I needed to learn, before. But it makes sense, we should all know how." Poor Charlie, she thinks, as she's doubtful Nick knows either. "I just like the thought of a big, maybe slightly spooky house."

Like the one she'd left behind.

But they're talking about her idea, and Sabrina presses another kiss, as sweetly as possible, to Rosie's lips. "Nothing big at all. I'm just thinking we could both easily fit into my bathtub, with or without magic. A hot bath."

"Of course it'll be a little spooky, you and Nick have your magical reputations to think of," she says, the words murmured a little against the other girl's lips as Sabrina kisses her once again. "At least decorating for Halloween will be easy."

On another day--and even on this one, a little--Rosie might have suspected an ulterior motive in Sabrina's suggestion. But a bath sounds soothing and warm, something that will restore what remains of the balance they'd lost when that bug appeared, and it's easy to nod her agreement. "I think you might be right. It's worth trying, at the very least."

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I can wear no adequate protection, everything comes crashing in

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