Pairing: Cordelia/Misty

Synopsis: Cordelia dies. Misty brings her back.

A/N: So a friend gave me this idea. It's only a one-shot because I don't have a laptop of my own to dedicate to any Foxxay chapter fics, but rest assured I will be writing chapter fics whenever I get a new laptop. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for the incredible support. I haven't stepped out into a new fandom for at least a few years, but I love Misty and Cordelia too much to stop writing about them. Also, I'm sampling lyrics in this particular fic from "Lady Love" by Robin Trower. If you haven't listened to him, as a Foxxay shipper I feel that you must. It gives me psychedelic vibes but also very much Misty/Cordelia sexytimes vibes.

###

"It's true, I am afraid of dying. I am afraid of the world moving forward without me, of my absence going unnoticed, or worse, being some natural force propelling life on. Is it selfish? Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do? I don't mean the world ending with respect to me, but every set of eyes closing with mine." - Jonathan Safran Foer

Dying felt a lot like falling asleep, or sinking under the surface of the ocean. Cordelia could hear the distant cries of disbelief, the shattering of glass, but she could not see who made what noise. It was more peaceful than she might have believed, and there was no panic when it happened. She thought she would've been more afraid; Cordelia had been called timid more than once. She preferred the term 'cautious.' She didn't see any angels of death, though she had secretly hoped to see such a creature (curiosity, you know). She only heard panic, and sobs.

She'd been shot through the head. Cordelia thought perhaps it had been Hank, but really that didn't matter now, did it? She felt a pang of sadness as she realized she really was dying, almost dead. She had spent her whole life caring for others, ensuring the happiness of others, and she didn't remember the last time someone had embraced her and really meant it, or kissed her on the mouth just to taste the soul of her. Dying made her sad now. She wondered if her eyes were filling with tears and trailing down her cheek, or perhaps it was a stream of blood.

She'd felt heavy, initially, like someone had replaced her blood with cement. Now though, she felt light. She thought someone was shaking the body – not her body anymore, just a body she once inhabited.

And then she was gone. Cordelia winked out of existence.

###

Cordelia woke up. She wasn't supposed to; she remembered being dead, remembered a sort of hallucinogenic oblivion where it was impossible to ever see anything that happened on earth. (All that nonsense people told about others looking down on them from heaven turned out to be a lie, unless Cordelia hadn't earned a ticket through the pearly gates.)

"Did you do it?"

"Don't rush her."

"She's listening to you guys. She knows it wasn't any of us."

Cordelia felt Nan probing her mind. It took a while for cognitive function to return, and even longer for physical function to return. She kept trying to will her fingers to move, any part of her, and it would not. Her eyes wouldn't open, for all her trying.

"Her soul is like – it's like some kinda bonfire," a reverent voice wondered, and Cordelia felt two fingers touch her cheek. She was glad the first physical touch she had upon resurrection was a pleasurable one.

Who brought me back?

Nan caught the projected thought, and though Cordelia herself couldn't hear Nan's inner-response, she knew the girl had heard her question. "She wants to know who you are," Nan informed the witch who'd breathed Cordelia's soul back into her body.

"She's awake?"

"No motor function yet, but she's trying."

Cordelia wished desperately to wake up. She felt as if her limbs were aching.

"Maybe if I – " the girl didn't finish her sentence, "give me some room," she instructed the others, and Cordelia heard the shuffling of feet. Cordelia became aware of a palm gliding over her arms, and then massaging each one carefully. Getting the blood to circulate.

Slowly, Cordelia started to feel like she might be able to move.

"It's working," Nan confirmed aloud. "She feels like she might be able to move. Try her hands."

Each finger was massaged with what could only be perceived as great care, and each palm as well.

"Can you open your eyes?" The accented voice inquired nearer to her face. The witch had stopped massaging her hands, and grazed two fingers along Cordelia's cheek, stopping near her eyes. "Try."

Cordelia felt breath come easier, and finally was able to open her eyes no matter how heavy they seemed. It took time for her eyes to adjust – however, it didn't take long to realize she was in her greenhouse. The figures around her were all somewhat blurry, and her body was slow to react. However, after a few moments of staring at each blur, she saw the witch who had brought her back. It was a young woman close to her own age, however youthful her bright eyes seemed. Never mind the loose blonde curls and the Stevie Nicks shawl, it was the open concern and curiosity that was a little hypnotizing.

Cordelia's body hurt a little, and moving her limbs was difficult work. She reached a stiff hand to the stranger beside her, feeling a protective arm slip around her almost immediately, and with her help she was able to sit up. She noted how dehydrated she felt, and lifted her free hand to touch her forehead. The wound was gone, however that had happened. Mud was on her fingers when she drew her hand away, dry and crusted. She frowned a little.

"My swamp mud. Heals anything," the newcomer spoke, the explanation ringing with apologetic undertones.

"Are you feeling okay, Cordelia? We didn't know if it was going to work. It's been two days already and," Zoe's voice entered Cordelia's awareness, however distant and panicked it seemed. She blinked her eyes again; she wished her vision would clear a little more.

"Who are you?" Cordelia inquired, her gaze turning to the girl whose arm was wrapped around her, holding her up in a seated position.

"Misty Day, ma'am. Miss Cordelia. I'm Zoe's friend."

"The witch who was burned?"

"Well, I was, I guess, but I'm not dead anymore," Misty observed. "Been hidin' in my swamp. Quieter there. Ever since I came back, I'm not exactly the type to go lookin' for friends. Last friends I had killed me."

"I am sorry for your suffering, but I am glad that Zoe found you," Cordelia murmured softly. She felt weak and tired and wondered how that could be so when she had been dead. Wasn't that restful enough for her body? She was leaning heavily against Misty, and found the only strength she had was concentrated on balling her fists in Misty's clothing.

"Do you feel okay?"

"I feel very tired," Cordelia gave a grateful smile.

"We should take her upstairs," Zoe suggested, glancing aside to Nan, who nodded.

Attempting to adopt her authoritative posturing, Cordelia tried to stand. Her knees went weak, and she would have fallen had it not been for Misty's arm wrapping tightly around Cordelia's waist. The taller woman took Cordelia's arm and looped it around her neck, her hand grasping at hers to hold it around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," Cordelia apologized a little groggily, and directed her gaze carefully at the taller girl, her eyes lingering there for only a moment; it did not go without notice that the girl seemed at a loss for words when Cordelia looked at her.

Zoe distracted the moment, flanking Cordelia's other side. Sandwiched between the two girls, Cordelia walked carefully up the stairs and noticed that each girl, except Madison, was following behind the trio in order to ensure Cordelia's safety.

Misty, being apparently the strongest aside from Queenie, helped Cordelia into bed and covered her up, touching her forehead briefly and then her wrist, as if to check her pulse. "I can stay with her a while," Misty turned her gaze to the others, eyebrows expressive as she reached a hand to touch the sheets just beside Cordelia.

"Are you sure?"

"I have more experience, bringin' people back and whatnot. I just wanna make sure she's healin' up alright."

There were murmurs of agreement. Each girl took a moment to give Cordelia a reassuring squeeze and then filed out of the room. Cordelia felt weak and subdued.

"Almost couldn't get your spark back, 'cause it was so close to crossin' that divide," Misty confessed. "Then when I saw it, and I mean it was really like a big bonfire. Never seen anything like it. Or – well I guess felt, since I don't really see anything when I'm bringin' someone back."

"I am amazed that you yourself are alive. We'd all thought there was no hope. I've never heard of someone using the power of Resurgence on themselves."

Misty seemed abashed at Cordelia's praise, and waved a hand dismissively, "That's the word you use for it? I mean, I'm not even totally sure how I came back. I just woke up and I was in the swamp again, only safe 'cause they all thought I was dead 'n gone. And I lived in my little shack with Stevie and all my plants and it's really beautiful. I'm gonna take you so you can see, when you're feelin' right again, 'cause Zoe said you got a greenhouse and I think you might like it."

There was something endearing about the way Misty spoke, and Cordelia found herself smiling a little weakly in her direction. Her eyes lingered on the expressions that passed over Misty's face. Her thoughts moved away from her own death, and to the safety of the Coven. Keeping these girls safe kept the future alive for witches. "I wouldn't ask you to leave your home – but you must know it's not safe out there for any of us right now," Cordelia spoke to her the way she would have any of the girls. She never forced them into anything, only coached and guided them.

"I got nowhere else," Misty shifted in her seat.

"Misty," Cordelia spoke the name with a sort of intense insistence, "this is a place where witches come to be safe. To learn, to grow. This home is as much yours as it is any of the others."

"You really want me to stay here?" The uncertainty painted on Cordelia's face spoke volumes. Misty wanted acceptance as much as anyone else, wanted people to belong to.

"You saved my life. And if all I can offer in return is a place for you to be safe and protected, surrounded by your own kind, then you most certainly are welcome to stay here." Cordelia was sincere, and she watched the curly-haired blonde shift her knees to her chest and bite back a grin.

"I think I'd really like it here. I mean, I love my swamp, but maybe here I won't be so lonely. And I can always go back when things are safe again, right?"

"You are free to come and go as you please," the older witch gave a brief smile. She had never enforced many rules on any of the girls that passed through these halls, "I would just like to know when you leave, and when you expect to come back. We have many enemies, and the last thing I want is to be worried sick about another girl."

Misty's smile faded a little, and she tucked some hair behind her ear, "Of course, Miss Cordelia."

Cordelia tried to get comfortable, wincing a little at the lingering stiffness in her body. "I apologize if I come off intimidating or overly formal, but you must know that my duty is first and foremost to you girls. You're old enough to take care of yourselves –"

"No, I don't mind at all," Misty interrupted with a vehement shake of her head. "It's – it's been a long time since anyone really looked out for my well-bein'."

Cordelia's gaze softened and she found herself silent just long enough to catch the insecurity playing over Misty's face. "Come sit beside me a moment," Cordelia did what she could to shift, beckoning with a hand as she made space for Misty to sit next to her.

Misty hesitated just long enough to reveal that she had spent far too long in isolation to feel certain about any social interaction. Her brow furrowed in the dim bedroom light, and she regarded Cordelia curiously before moving across the room to sit beside her. Her ringed fingers were clasped at her shawl when she sat down.

Cordelia touched Misty's arm with a feather-light ghosting of fingers, encouraging the girl to meet her eyes, "We have many enemies, and you know this. You've died at their hands. You have no enemies here, Misty Day. Not a single one." Of course, she wasn't entirely sure she trusted Madison or Fiona but she would deal with problems as they arose. Particularly with the young witch's power of Resurgence, this put a target on her back. "Not in this room, especially. You saved my life and for that I am in your debt."

"You don't owe me nothin', honestly, Miss Cordelia –"

"Let me finish," Cordelia hinted at a stern tone, "because this is important. Even if you had not saved my life tonight I would protect you as if you were my own flesh and bone. We have no one if not one another. I won't let any harm come to you, and I will look after you."

Something glinted in Misty's eyes as she looked up at Cordelia. The headmistress touched Misty's arm again, her expression sympathetic, "Miss Cordelia, I – " Misty's mouth closed and she shook her head.

"You are not alone anymore," Cordelia insisted. She squeezed Misty's arm tightly before letting go. "Do you understand?" It was as if she could feel the ache in her own chest. She knew Misty was gripped in her own emotional reaction. Misty only nodded in response.

Silence passed between them, Misty fidgeting, long and slender fingers rubbing the shawl on her shoulders, rings clinking softly together. "I'm gonna stay with you tonight, Miss Cordelia. Just to be sure you're feelin' alright by the morning. Normally it don't take long, and luckily you didn't have anythin' wrong with you besides that bullet in your head," Misty gave a half-hearted grin and her eyes flit to the place where the hole had been.

"Thank you, Misty. I cannot say that enough," Cordelia let out a quiet sigh and shook her head, "as I was laying there, and felt myself slowly dying, I was overcome with such sadness. As if I had missed out on so much and would never experience things as I had wanted to." She didn't disclose any further, feeling as if it was somehow distasteful spilling her problems in the lap of a young woman she'd only just met.

Misty reached over, rubbed Cordelia's back, and pushed her just gently enough that Cordelia got the hint and knew the miracle-worker wanted her to lay down. "Well, no reason to be sad now. You still got a chance," the playful grin on the blonde's face made Cordelia smile.

She rarely let her mask fade, her aura of impenetrability, but as she lay looking up at Misty she felt as if she were in the company of someone she could trust. She felt as if she could have been vulnerable without feeling unsafe. Cordelia could find no proper expression to voice this.

Misty seemed to notice the attention, her cheeks flushing a little red. She shrunk away from Cordelia's gaze, getting off the bed; however, instead of sitting in the chair across the room, she pushed it far closer to the bed's edge, and curled up in it.

Cordelia considered allowing the girl to lay with her, but by the time she'd argued herself one way or another, she'd fallen asleep under the watchful gaze of the Cajun witch.

###

By morning's arrival, Cordelia was feeling normal again. She had almost forgotten about Misty until she realized that the girl was passed out in a very uncomfortable position in the chair, laying underneath the cover of her shawl. Cordelia tested her muscles as she stretched a little and sat up in bed, feeling nothing abnormal about the way her limbs moved. In a moment of fear, she touched her forehead, found it free of bullet wounds or scars.

"Misty," Cordelia murmured the name softly, climbing out of bed and leaning over Misty. She lifted the shawl a little from the woman's face, brushing blonde curls away from her eyes. "Come on, you should get into your bed," they had not yet established where Misty would sleep, but the nearest room to her own seemed favorable. She would be better able to protect Misty from Madison's bile and Fiona's murderous intent.

Misty hummed sleepily in response, blinking a pair of confused eyes open. "Oh, I'm – I didn't mean to fall asleep, I shoulda stayed awake –" and suddenly the Cajun was in a bit of a panicked state.

Cordelia laughed, "Nonsense," was all she managed to say before grasping Misty's forearms gently and helping her stand. Sleepily, Misty stumbled down the hall beside Cordelia, supported by the older witch's arm around her waist.

Cordelia tucked Misty in, lingering only a moment before making her way downstairs to make breakfast.

###

Lady love, I heard a voice and it soothed me, a simple tune and it moved me; move me, and soothe me.

Robin Trower rasped over the radio – a little known guitarist and singer that Cordelia happened to love a lot. During her times in the greenhouse she would sometimes put him on and simply enjoy the escape alchemy provided her. Cordelia hummed a little as she worked, eyes occasionally closing to enjoy the music.

A flower bloomed at her fingertips, and Cordelia touched its leaves gently, then the petals. It was late in the afternoon. There had been no ominous signs in the last two days – since Misty had arrived – of witch hunters or further attacks. Perhaps, for now, things had become quiet. Aside from teaching the girls, Cordelia had realized that in the afternoon she had opportunity to spend time alone.

Misty had fit in almost right away with Zoe, and while Madison slung her usual barbs and Queenie her skepticism, it seemed that the Cajun woman was getting along well with her peers. Despite their initial exchange the night she'd brought Cordelia back to life, it seemed as if the girl was somewhat avoiding her. That was to be expected – Cordelia always tried to be the authority figure, attempted to keep some façade of strength for them. None of the girls really felt like they could let loose under Cordelia's watchful gaze.

Lady love, the man's a fool to be leaving dreams of love, passing by like the seasons; maybe I'll wake up, oh tell me I will, and find you there waiting, lady love.

However, she had to admit that a part of her was disappointed that initial sense of bonding had fallen away. Cordelia suffered from great loneliness herself; it was partially self-imposed and definitely necessary to keep herself separate. If she had learned anything it was that leadership took a balance of humanity and authority.

"I heard music and I just had to come and investigate," a voice announced from the doorway. Misty Day, draped in her shawl, looked entranced. "I used to dance to my Stevie in my garden, you know," her smooth Cajun accent slipped amongst the guitar and rasping of Robin Trower, and when Cordelia met Misty's eyes, she felt a strange electricity travel along the surface of her fingertips and up her arm. "This guy ain't no Stevie, but it sure is nice," Misty asserted, her hips swaying as she moved into the greenhouse. "You don't mind some company, do you?"

Cordelia only shook her head, found herself smiling in a quiet way, eyes following Misty's trail across the room. The woman touched plants as she went, a veritable mother earth, and some plants actually seemed to bloom a little as she did so. Misty emanated power, and Cordelia could feel the hum of it in the air. The edges of her shawl swayed as Misty moved to the savory beat and psychedelic guitar.

"You look like you belong at Woodstock," Cordelia murmured, grinning and failing to realize her hands had ceased the work they were doing.

"Woodstock?"

Cordelia chuckled, "A concert of sorts, back in the 60's. I wasn't even an adult then but I remember watching the coverage on the news, seeing people who looked – blissful."

"Music makes me feel blissful," Misty echoed the sentiment, closing her eyes. "You always play music when you do your work?" She danced, swayed and twirled a little more before she circled the edge of the table and came close to Cordelia's side, bringing with her the scent of lavender and musk. She bowed curiously in front of the plant Cordelia worked on, examining it.

"Sometimes. It depends on my mood," Cordelia gave a brief smile. "How are you getting on with the girls?"

"Fine, I guess," the little twang when she said 'fine' was somewhat endearing. Misty shrugged a shoulder, one hand resting on the table as she shifted and leaned her back against it, glancing aside at Cordelia. There was a distinct lack of personal space, and Cordelia wondered at it momentarily. "It's not like when I had that conversation with you though," Misty leaned a little, swayed in her spot. She always seemed to move, the way air ghosted over skin on a warm summer day.

"Oh?" Cordelia inquired, subtly encouraging Misty to continue with wherever the sentiment was going. "Why is that?"

"It's like –" Misty sighed in thought, her hand remaining on the table beside Cordelia. The girl brushed behind Cordelia, her hand touching Cordelia's hair for just a moment as she passed and then continued on to the other side of the room, looking at all the plants. "It's like I know you already," Misty concluded.

Cordelia's eyes were drawn up by a questioning gaze, saw Misty playing with a leaf in her hand.

"That's not weird, is it, Miss Cordelia?"

Cordelia only shook her head, but to avoid the strange and sudden feeling of attraction – in both a physical and metaphysical sense – she glanced back down at her work, "I think it's likely perfectly natural, once you've brought a soul back, to feel as if you now know that soul."

"This is different," Misty hummed a little in disagreement. "This is like," she gestured in the air as she circled around the room and came near Cordelia again, "like when I touch a plant, when I'm growin' somethin', I feel it like it's a part of me, like I got all these little pieces of me scattered on the ground all around my feet but just 'cause they ain't attached it don't mean they aren't part of my own body." Misty seemed to be searching for some kind of approval, some affirmation Cordelia felt that same spark of connection. She was leaning carefully near Cordelia. Had someone walked in, they would've perhaps thought Misty was curiously examining the work Cordelia was doing, but as Cordelia's gaze trailed from Misty's fidgeting fingers and up to those very intense eyes, the older witch found herself nervous.

Lady love, I need some warm and tender nights of love, sweet and fine to remember; maybe tomorrow, your fever will find me.

Cordelia, for whatever reason, could not look up. Even her fingers had stalled on the roots of a plant and she was very conscious of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

"I don't mean to make you nervous, Miss Cordelia," Misty apologized, "I only mean –"

"Please, don't feel sorry in any way," Cordelia finally spoke, taking measured breaths. "I have a lot to work through in my mind. I've been through a very great deal," she admitted and while she straightened beside Misty, she could not yet look her in the eye. Instead she looked at her own fidgeting hands. "And I'm not sure what's up or down at the moment, but I can at least admit I do feel a connection to you."

This seemed to be enough for Misty, who grinned and bounced a little. "So we're friends, right, Miss Cordelia?"

Cordelia grinned to herself, glanced over at the enthusiastic Cajun witch, nodding. At least in the safety of the greenhouse, she could drop the façade of authority. "Would you like to learn a few things?" Cordelia inquired, stepping away from the table and letting Misty take her place. She guided her hands over the plant.

###

"Intention," Cordelia instructed firmly. It had been only a week and already Misty had mastered the art of channeling her powers into non-sentient life. She could bring dead plants back to life (likely far less complicated than bringing back people and animals) but she no longer depended on her usual methods.

Misty murmured an intonation of Latin, eyes focused on the plants before her. In a semi-circle around her, each plant bloomed to life in order, creating a sort of beautiful visual for Cordelia to take in. As always, Misty beamed at Cordelia proudly before forgetting herself and forcing Cordelia into a celebratory embrace. Cordelia willingly pulled Misty to her, elated to see her student growing and learning more. None of the girls took an interest in her art, but she knew that she would rather have Misty than any other.

A loud and sudden clatter startled them apart. Cordelia immediately grasped Misty by the arm and half-pushed the taller witch behind her. Something about the crackling of the air around them was not right.

"Honey, I'm home," Hank's sinister voice grated her senses, and fear struck at the very heart of her. He was twirling a dagger in one hand, his gun in a holster right at the edge of his jacket. "I heard that you were alive again, and that means I didn't finish my job." He didn't even seem to notice Misty, whose hand had Cordelia's arm in an iron grip.

"You're not gonna finish nothin'," Misty began pushing around Cordelia, trying to assert herself as Cordelia's protector, but Hank reached in the distance between them and grabbed Misty by her dress, shoving her against the wall.

"This is between me and my wife," he snarled.

Cordelia felt pain in her chest very suddenly, and realized Hank had reached forward and was in the process of choking her. The pain in her chest was from a lack of oxygen.

Too late Hank realized that he did not have the upperhand.

Cordelia smelled burning flesh, the scent of it singing her nostrils. As she was thrown against the wall, head smacking with an audible crack, she saw Hank's clothing engulfed in flame. His screams were deafening.

Misty's shadow lurched through the flame, and the witch had lifted Hank midair. "You bastard," she spat, "how dare you touch a woman! How dare you come back here like a damn dog to a carcass," Misty seemed invulnerable to the flame – perhaps because she was manifesting it – because she had taken Hank's knife from him and driven it through the flame and presumably into Hank. The man howled in agony, and as Misty flung his burning body from the greenhouse, Cordelia just managed to recover herself.

She stumbled out into the yard, saw Misty crouched over Hank, and watched as the man's neck twisted beyond human capacity.

"Witch hunter," Misty cursed.

Cordelia felt a strange mix of fear and relief – fear of Hank, relief that she herself had not met Death again. She moved in the space between them, caught Misty's arm with a trembling hand and pulled her away from the body.

There was no doubt Hank was dead.

Cordelia was staring in abject horror, but she felt Misty's arm slip from her grasp and was encompassed soon in the familiar embrace. She buried her face in Misty's hair and cried.

###

"Damn," Queenie stated as Zoe threw the last pile of sand, rock, and dirt over Hank's burnt corpse. "You really did a number on him," she praised Misty, clapping the girl on the shoulder and pulling her to her side.

"I could've done it," Madison rolled her eyes a little, inhaled on her cigarette.

Cordelia shot the young witch a look, "This is no competition. This is death. This is war. This –" she grabbed Madison by the arm and pushed her fiercely to the grave, "could just as easily happen to any of is. Forget the petty squabble of trying to be better than your sister witches. This is about protecting each other."

Misty's eyes lingered on Cordelia's, and even in the midst of others, Cordelia wished more than anything to comfort Misty.

"Death is horrifying, regardless of whose death it is." Her ex-husband's. "It is a fate any one of us can – and probably will – meet. And if you roll your eyes one more time, Madison, I will be sure that you understand exactly what I'm saying."

The group, properly mollified, silently departed the gravesite, and as they walked Cordelia felt a hand at the small of her back.

"You alright, Miss Cordelia?" Misty inquired quietly, searching Cordelia's eyes in the way that made her feel so very vulnerable.

Cordelia nodded, "As well as can be expected," she offered.

"I'm sorry," Misty mumbled, touching ringed fingers to her forehead, "I know I got outta control and I'm just … I saw red when I thought he was gonna try'n kill you and I just thought I can't lose her –"

Cordelia caught Misty's gaze in a way that was meant to silence her and comfort her at once, "Say no more," she implored softly. Though some part of her ached, wished to cross that uncrossable gulf, wanted to take Misty's hand in her own merely to comfort her, she couldn't. Especially not in front of the other girls. Instead, she looped her arm through Misty's and slipped her fingers around the younger witch's wrist. "How many times must you save my life?" Cordelia teased.

"As many as it takes, I guess," Misty played in return, though her eyes betrayed how seriously she took these words.

Cordelia tugged Misty's arm tight against her side as they walked.

###

Misty came to Cordelia's room that night, and without warning climbed into bed with Cordelia. It startled the woman so much she had nearly jumped out of bed, despite being half-asleep.

"Jesus! Misty! What are you thinking? You scared me half to death," Cordelia clutched the sheets around her. She had been listening to music and trying to rest despite the thoughts racing through her head about witch hunters and imminent death, and thus had not heard Misty knock or come in.

"I'm sorry, Miss Cordelia," Misty apologized with a sheepish look. "I was just – I can't sleep – I keep smellin' … and then I think about when I burned and I just – I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I put someone else through that," Misty had started to get up when Cordelia immediately flushed with sympathy.

"No – no, I'm – I should be the one apologizing. I was only startled," Cordelia reached out a hand, left her palm open and waited for Misty to take her hand. "Please," she pulled the covers back, allowing room for Misty.

Misty hesitated, but climbed in. At first she seemed shy, but when Cordelia slipped her arms around Misty's shoulders, the taller woman slowly lay her head down on Cordelia's lap. She sifted her fingers through Misty's hair and wondered when exactly they had arrived at this level of familiarity. Yet, as she lay touching Misty's hair now, she did not want to retreat into a space where she felt she couldn't touch Misty. She felt her shivering, and pulled the covers over her.

It took a moment to realize Misty was crying. It was silent, but the persistent caving of her shoulders gave it away.

"Misty," Cordelia insisted. When she received no response, she forced Misty up by the shoulders, "Misty," she repeated, lifting Misty's tear-filled gaze to level her own. "I am not going to say that what you did was right," Cordelia admitted, "but you did what any witch would have done in that situation. Death is a heavy burden, but we must protect ourselves, and one another. No matter the cost. You have lost a part of yourself, as you do each time life is taken, but you have to realize who you are has not changed, do you understand me?"

Misty covered her face with her hands, canted forward and buried her face in Cordelia's nightgown. Her trembling hands slipped around Cordelia.

"You are the kindest woman I have ever met," Cordelia brushed loose curls away from Misty's ears, pressed her lips to her temple. "You are radiant, absolutely compassionate and enchanting and you would never harm anyone unless you found it necessary. You are a good person, Misty."

Misty's fists were balled in Cordelia's nightgown, her mouth near enough Cordelia's collar bone that she had an awareness beneath her active thoughts of the way Misty's warm breath felt against her skin.

"Snap out of it," Cordelia coaxed a little firmly, "or you will weaken yourself with this regret you're carrying," she forced Misty to look at her again.

Misty's crying had subdued enough that she could force a nod. Her hands were clutching Cordelia's legs – the easiest part to reach – and Cordelia had to bat away the impulse to put distance between them because this was terribly inappropriate.

About a half an hour passed, more of the same, before Cordelia could coax Misty to lay down. She felt the warmth of the woman next to her shift closer, and she untucked her earbuds and iPod from beneath her pillow. "Here," Cordelia offered, and when Misty looked confused at the offered earbud, she grinned a little and tucked the rubber bit into Misty's ear. Cordelia pressed play, watched Misty's smile return triumphantly.

If you stand in the light you get the feel of the night, and the music plays in your ears; in your voice you can hear, a voice so sweet and clear and the music that plays inside your head as it flows up from the ground, taking all who hear that sound; close your eyes, it's about to begin.

The music washed over Cordelia in similar sensation, and she lay on her side, trailing her fingers over Misty's hair to lull her into a calmer state. Somehow, she needed to comfort Misty, assure her that what she had done was for the right reasons. The greater good.

Misty's eyes lingered on Cordelia, a smile still playing at her lips. "I need one of these," Misty insisted. Cordelia grinned and nodded. She tried to ignore how her heart raced when Misty's eyes remained on her own. It was nearly impossible, considering that she could not look away no matter how frightened she felt.

Cordelia bit her bottom lip, a moment of uncertainty tainting her expression. Misty frightened her. Not because she was a powerful witch, not for any other reason than the fact that she was very consciously attracted to Misty, drawn to her in a way she had never been with anyone else. She was connected to her inexplicably, and Misty's comparison to having pieces of your body that aren't attached came to mind.

She felt a shifting beneath the covers, and felt tentative fingers find her hand, draw it up from the covers, and Misty seemed entranced with tracing the lines in Cordelia's palms. Occasionally that thoughtful gaze would meet her own and Cordelia would fight the urge to hide herself, make herself small and invulnerable.

Their fingers played at one another in the moonlight, the music playing on.

Hardly daring to breathe, a new life you perceive, you try hard not to break the spell; all at once it seems both so far and yet so close. If you reach out to touch it, it will be gone.

Cordelia's breath hitched in a way that betrayed her intent to say something, anything really, but she could not. She felt confused; ethically this seemed wrong. Misty was close to her age but to all the others, Cordelia was akin to a teacher. An authority figure.

Misty acted like her equal. Her counterpart. And it seemed right.

Cordelia felt silly, being so entranced by the simplicity of meeting fingers and palms, but flexing her fingers through the spaces between Misty's and grasping her hand, she understood that sometimes love made one feel silly.

Attraction. She tried to correct herself, correct her thinking, but as she glanced from their hands to Misty's eyes, she felt a swelling of feeling that could only be love. It burned in her chest and she savored the feeling of it.

When the gap between them started to shorten, Cordelia realized Misty was shifting closer, leaning in, leaning irrevocably closer. Her fingers cupped Cordelia's jaw, laced through the back of her hair and began to pull her closer. Cordelia didn't fight it – at first. Her heart was leaping into her throat and she felt Misty's warm breath on her lips when she realized really what was about to happen. Somewhere along the line her hand had ended up on Misty's stomach – or rather the meeting of stomach and hip.

"No," Cordelia breathed softly, "If we do this now –" she felt so confused. She wanted this more than anything, so why was she pulling back, getting out of bed? Cordelia was halfway to the closet when she felt Misty's hand grab her own. She was almost afraid to turn around, afraid of the fact that she didn't want to resist.

Their fingers tangled again and Cordelia closed her eyes, expression confused and scared.

"This isn't what I expected –"

"Cordelia," Misty implored quietly. "Look at me," she insisted.

Cordelia turned around, found herself held by both hands and pulled close.

"You trust me?"

"There's no question of that."

"What're you afraid of, Miss Cordelia?"

"If I let this happen –" Cordelia breathed in the air between them, sought the comfort of Misty's arms. "I have so much more to lose in this war."

"Pardon me for sayin', but is it really gonna hurt any less if somethin' happens to me?"

Too far gone.

Cordelia gently coaxed Misty a few inches away from her. "We have to go slow."

So they did.

###

"Orange," Misty launched a popsicle at Cordelia, who caught it with some fumbling and shot the taller woman a look.

"Thanks, but what did I say about throwing things at me?" Cordelia grinned despite her tone, unwrapping the candy and popping it in her mouth. She tasted the sugary delight and watched as Misty twirled to Stevie. They'd finally retrieved the 8-track player and there was often a flux of Cordelia's music or Stevie Nicks, and both seemed to mix well together.

It had been approximately two weeks since they buried Hank, two weeks since they had almost kissed, and the tension between them was constant and palpable. Even Nan had made allusions to the flirtation between them – particularly when she had walked in on Misty chasing Cordelia around the kitchen with a fat earthworm and pinning her against the counter threatening to make her eat it.

"What was that incantation –" Cordelia questioned absentmindedly as she trimmed the leaves of her nightshade.

Misty hummed before finishing the thought, "Atropa belladonna, induce visions beyond, trace the lines of fate through," she whirled around the table, as usual gravitating right to Cordelia's side, leaning her head over Cordelia's shoulder.

"I'm starting to think you could know more than me about this stuff," Cordelia glanced somewhat behind, barely catching a glimpse of Misty's smug smile.

"Relax, baby," Misty teased, a hand slipping around Cordelia's waist, "I can show you," she pressed herself up behind Cordelia, and it did not pass Cordelia's awareness, the way Misty had purred the word 'baby' near her ear. Her hand trailed from Cordelia's waist to her stomach, tantalizing and slow.

"Misty," Cordelia warned softly, though her protest lacked gusto. She felt herself trembling a little against Misty, but eventually the girl slipped away, grinning devilishly before she returned to her dervish dance, Stevie weaving magic around her.

They had yet to kiss, but there were moments where Misty went out of her way to tempt Cordelia, tried to coax her out of that place of fear and into a space where she felt ready. What she never told Misty was that she was always on the verge of kissing her, regardless of whether or not she was trying to tempt Cordelia.

She watched Misty with a playful and scolding gleam in her eyes, and sucked on the Dum Dum Misty had thrown at her earlier.

###

"The girl positively glows when you walk into the room," Auntie Myrtle crooned early one morning when everyone else still slept in their beds. Often Cordelia was the first up, Myrtle second, and Misty third. "Are you two involved?" The older woman sipped her coffee and leaned forward.

Cordelia's words hissed from her throat, "Not so loud."

"You are?"

"Yes – no… I mean, there's never been a physical … we just –"

"You seem to match one another's frequencies."

Cordelia glanced up, "With all that's going on, I just find it unreasonable to pursue something personal."

"Darling, in a time of war, it is the only time to pursue the personal. Why fight unless you give yourself something to fight for?"

Cordelia scowled a little, sipped at her own coffee. "What would the girls think?"

"That you're playing favorites," Myrtle's sly smirk did not escape Cordelia's attention and she responded with a roll of her eyes.

Footsteps announced the third party before her voice. "Mornin'," Misty was rubbing sleep from her eyes, already dressed for the day, wearing her sun hat and draping a deep brown shawl over her shoulders as she sat next to Cordelia. "Mornin', Myrtle."

"Good morning, darling," Myrtle placed Misty's usual hot cup of tea in front of her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks," Misty breathed in the scent of jasmine and ginger, glancing aside at Cordelia. Forgetting herself, Cordelia found herself lingering on Misty's gaze, very consciously aware of the warmth of Misty's body near her own. They had not slept in the same bed very often – Cordelia forced this rule upon herself – but last night they had. It was Cordelia who had slipped into Misty's bed and wrapped herself in the taller woman's arms.

Myrtle cleared her throat and Cordelia blushed a deep red, staring into her coffee and willing herself to act like a grown woman.

###

It came to a head in the greenhouse and ended in Cordelia's bedroom.

Cordelia had been sitting on her stool, examining a plant closely, hunched over, when she felt Misty's hands slip up her back.

"Hello there," Misty rested her cheek on Cordelia's shoulder blade, her arm slipping around her waist.

Cordelia leaned into the touch a little. The boundaries between them had been thinning lately. There was not a moment Cordelia didn't crave contact with Misty. She tugged at the hand resting on her hip, pulling it to her front as she straightened. "Come here often?" Cordelia joked lamely. She earned a laugh from Misty, so that was enough reward for her.

"I don't know if I can go slow anymore, Cordelia," Misty murmured into the curtain of Cordelia's hair. Her fingers trailed along Cordelia's neck, tucked hair behind her ear. "I'm not gonna lie. I almost kissed you this mornin', right in front of everyone. When you came in the living room and stood by me when Queenie was talkin'."

Cordelia merely listened, thoughtful eyes staring at the space directly in front of her, feeling the way Misty's fingers toyed with her own. She could not act on this yet, but even now the boundaries between them were so thin that Cordelia didn't know if taking it a few steps further would make a huge impact.

Misty was already branded into her heart.

###

Misty walked so closely in front of Cordelia as she made her way to the couch – sitting next to Zoe – that Cordelia felt the strong urge to grab her by the wrist and plead with her not to sit so far away. Even as Cordelia spoke, informed the girls of new developments and plans, she found her eyes lingering on Misty, who would sometimes lick her bottom lip subconsciously and peer right into Cordelia's soul.

The meeting didn't last long, and most of the girls were more than happy to clear out, until it was just Cordelia and Misty left alone in the living room.

Misty acted as if she was about to say something, but instead she got up, rounded the coffee table. The taller girl placed her hands on either side of Cordelia's chair, leaned down, and Cordelia drew in audible breath as Misty's lips collided with her own.

As quickly as she had kissed her, she had retreated with a devilish grin. They'd shared their first kiss, however brief, and Cordelia sat in a quiet shock for at least ten minutes before she could will herself to move. Step by step, she pursued Misty.

Her bedroom door clicked shut as she leaned on it, and Misty sat smugly, one thigh crossed over the other.

"I can't believe you just did that," she scolded softly. "What if we had been caught?"

Misty didn't answer, only tsked and clicked her tongue before getting up and crossing the distance between them. Her hands slipped to Cordelia's waist, and she pressed her lips to each cheek. "Sometimes you gotta be a little careless and stupid to get what you want," she said by way of explanation.

Close your eyes, it's about to begin.

Cordelia tangled her fingers in Misty's hair and without thinking of consequences or ethics or anything, she pulled the taller woman's lips to her own. Electricity flooded her nervous system, and suddenly she was kissing Misty like she'd been waiting years to do so. The front of her torso was pressed tightly to Misty's and she felt Misty's possessive grip tugging her hips closer.

When she had invoked the fertility ritual, Cordelia had felt a particular surge of passion, but that was pale in comparison to this. Something animalistic awoke in her, and she realized she was all but pushing Misty to the bed.

"I never wanted anyone like this," Misty breathed against Cordelia's mouth, and without warning her fingers were grazing the silk of Cordelia's nightgown, teasing at an already aroused nipple. "I never felt like this."

"Misty," Cordelia pressed her name against her mouth, grinning, "if I'm going to be careless and stupid, you're going to have to stop talking," she laughed softly against Misty's lips, feeling a grin spread beneath her kiss.

"Yes ma'am."

All playfulness aside, Cordelia was consumed by Misty's kiss, the way her lips felt against her own. She was hungry for her, desired her all this time and now it was finally coming to fruition. It didn't take long for clothes to be removed, first touches ghosted over goosebumped flesh, and an experience somewhere between primal and romantic to take them both beyond anything they had ever known.

By the time they were both spent, Cordelia pressing her lips to the valley between Misty's breasts, her fingers playing at the warmth near her thighs, Misty was enveloped in afterglow. She pulled her lazily into a kiss, tugged Cordelia to her.

"It's like I been reunited with my own heart," Misty mused against Cordelia's mouth.

"Please don't ever leave," Cordelia pleaded softly. "Please." She needed Misty the way people needed oxygen, needed a drug. Now that she'd had her, she'd never be able to stop.

Misty pressed her mouth to Cordelia's throat, her neck, and her lips, "Shhh, darlin', not even Hell could tear me away from you now."