Title: Coming in from the cold

Author: mikipau

Rating: T

Fandom: American Horror Story: Coven

Pairing: Cordelia/Misty

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story.

Summary: Unknown to Cordelia Misty survives the Seven Wonders.

A/N: This just happened.

Misty screamed as the scalpel sliced into the pale belly of the frog. Tears fell from her eyes, perfect little drops hit the back of her hands as she reached forward to revive the animal. It blinked once, twice, before the sharp tool in her hands cut into it again.

Crying out she felt her heart break for the life taken. The classroom felt too small, as if its walls were closing in on her. The panic she felt rising made her breaths shallow and the constricting pain in her chest was dizzying. Her hands shook and tears wet her cheeks as she brought the frog back to life, only to cut its stomach open again.

Cut, heal, slice, revive, kill, and bring back to life.

The only way to stop this repeat of events was to not heal the frog. Misty wasn't in control of killing it, but bringing it back was all her own doing. Resisting proved impossible though. She couldn't stop reviving, couldn't stop caring or feeling. She couldn't let go of the compulsion to return life when it had been brutally taken.

Cut, heal, slice…

Misty couldn't take a step back from this loop to make it stop. Instead she kept going, continuing. Horrified she brought her hands to cover the frog, so focused on bringing the poor creature back to life that she almost didn't hear the soft voice breaking through her own screams.

"Misty, follow my voice."

Revive, kill…

It was barely audible, but Misty could recognize that voice anywhere. It was Cordelia. Sweet Cordelia who believed in her and showed her patience and potions. Cordelia who had offered her safety and given her a place to stay when her home in the swamp had been invaded.

"We are all here waiting for you."

Cut, heal…

Cordelia who had a greenhouse Misty felt less misplaced in. It wasn't her swamp, but being there amongst the soil and plants was as close to home she had felt since coming to Miss Robichaux Academy.

Slice, revive, kill…

Her swamp, oh how she longed to be back there. She wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, the humid air and the occasional breeze that brought with it the smell of flowers from her garden. She wanted to feel mud under her fingernails and hear the cicadas sing at night when the moon shone down on her little shack. She wanted to listen to her Stevie and twirl, twirl, twirl.

"Sequere lucem."

Cut, heal, slice…

Misty felt her hands grow warm. Heat radiated from her palms as she focused on Cordelia's voice and her old home. The home she'd made for herself when her own family had burnt her at the stake and left her for dead.

"Venite ad me."

Revive…

. . .

'Follow the light. Come to me.' That was what Cordelia had said. Misty had heard her. She had wanted to escape her own hell, had wanted to look into the face of the one person she felt connected to, the one person who had tried to find her and bring her back to safety.

Something had gone wrong. Misty hadn't awoken to see the relieved face and blank blindness of Cordelia's eyes, nor the ceiling of the Academy. No, she'd awoken to the cicadas singing and the mud seeping into her pores. She'd lifted her hands, seen the burned skin and wondered at the state she was in. What had happened? Had she been burnt alive, again? Why was she in the swamp? How had she gotten here?

She remembered the hell she'd been in, remembered Cordelia's words and feverishly killing and resurrecting that poor frog. Wanting more than anything to stop, to return home and then feeling her hands grow warm.

Flames!

She remembered flames. Pyrokinesis? Was that how she'd escaped? Could your own powers burn you? It had felt like she'd been on overload and all the pressure, all the tension and power that had built up had simply exploded. She'd found herself here, in the mud, alone.

Transmutation? Had more powers manifested and saved her? Did the other witches know she was alive? Did Cordelia know? So many questions without answers. Her head spun and exhausted Misty closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the mud soothe her soul.

. . .

It had been three weeks since Misty had escaped the classroom that had almost taken her life. She'd stayed in the swamp, healing both body and mind from the draining experience. She'd thought about contacting the other witches, but had decided against it as the days passed. No one had come to look for her. She guessed the help she'd gotten from Cordelia during Descensum meant that she wasn't the Supreme and therefore wasn't of much interest to the Coven anymore. She'd never really fitted in and, besides the time spent with Cordelia, she didn't miss the Academy.

What she did miss was the sound of a voice not her own. Misty had to admit that it got lonely in the swamp. As she sung her favourite songs while watering her plants, nurturing them back to health as she herself healed, she longed for the sound of Stevie's voice streaming into the garden. The 8-track player was broken. Kyle had destroyed it in his rage and the replacement she'd gotten from Zoe had been left in her room at the Academy.

She didn't have much money, but gathering some of her, albeit cheap, jewelry and shawls she decided to return to the city. If only to get Stevie's voice back into her life.

. . .

The pawnshop was small and smelled of dust and something distinctly sour. Misty held her breath as the gruff man behind the counter looked through her belongings. She'd already spotted what she was looking for, placed on a shelf behind the owner.

"I'll give you 20 bucks." He said, barely looking at her. His disinterest unnerved Misty. She assumed he'd pay more attention if she'd brought something of value, but this was all she had to offer. She felt the weight of old insecurities return and forced her eyes shut to rid herself of the uneasy feeling.

The man coughed. It was a wet sound that made Misty's skin crawl. She'd offer him one of her herbal remedies if she thought he'd accept. Though the little experience she had of him told her he'd scoff and belittle her and so she turned her focus back to the matter at hand.

"20 dollars. Is that enough for that portable 8-track player?" She pointed at the item in question.

"No. That one's mint - 40 dollars."

Misty's face fell. She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out what to do. She had 10 dollars tucked in the waistline of her skirt and another 10, for emergencies, hidden in a tin in her shack. This wasn't an emergency though and one look at the man told her she would have very little luck haggling.

"Do you have another, cheaper, one?" She held her breath, steeling herself for yet another disappointment.

The man sighed and scratched his neck. "Maybe." Another cough and then he disappeared through the door at the back of the shop, muttering to himself.

As she waited Misty let her eyes roam the shelves around her. There were so many things here. Things left behind by people who didn't need them anymore and things offered up when the worth of sentimentality became less than that of money. Misty never had much. Her family had been poor and their faith didn't put much importance into material things. That was one of the few values she had kept when moving to the swamp. She felt material things didn't make life better, although she did appreciate certain things - like her music and shawls.

Her eyes flitted to the TV in the corner and she felt her heart first stop and then double its speed at who she saw. Cordelia, with her sight restored, confident and smiling at the camera. The text at the bottom of the screen read: 'Cordelia Goode. Supreme. Headmistress of the Robichaux Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies'.

The first thing that ran through Misty's head was that Cordelia had changed back to her maiden name. Then she noticed the title. Supreme. Cordelia was the new Supreme and she'd made witches public knowledge. Misty shook her head, not believing what was before her. How much had happened, had changed, while she'd been hiding in her swamp?

. . .

Confused, but with a player under her arm, she'd gone back to her solitude. Listening to Stevie, caring for her garden and thinking about Cordelia with her beautiful brown eyes and fragile confidence. In the interview she'd been self-assured in a way Misty had only glimpsed before. Cordelia had changed. The world had changed.

A few days later she'd been drawn to the quarry where she'd found Myrtle's burned body. Misty felt confused. Why had Cordelia killed the woman she'd referred to as her true mother? Had the supremacy changed her? Made her cold and soulless like Fiona? Was that even possible? Misty remembered Cordelia as warm, loving and tender. She was a woman with great strength, but she was also caring and kind. What had gone wrong?

Misty wondered if she should go back to the Coven. If she should contact Cordelia and ask her what was going on. Would it be worth it? There were so many questions, no answers and only confusion that made her stomach knot and her head ache. Even in her swamp and with Stevie's voice to keep her company Misty felt lonely and out of place. She'd spent so much time looking for her tribe and during hours spent with Cordelia in the greenhouse she'd thought she'd found it. Now, she wasn't so sure anymore.

. . .

Two nights later Misty found herself standing at the gates of the Robichaux Academy. It was way past midnight and all but one window gaped darkly into the night. The cicadas couldn't be heard this far into the city, instead the sound of the occasional car disturbed the quiet of the night. The fumes from traffic and trash lay heavy in the cooling air. The downstairs window that showed a faint light revealed no movement inside the house. Misty guessed everyone was asleep and that one of the lamps in the kitchen had been forgotten or maybe left turned on for the occasional late night snack.

She focused on the upstairs window she knew belonged to Cordelia's bedroom. Doubt crept in and she wondered if she should return in the morning. People didn't show up for visits in the middle of the night. Misty knew that, yet here she was, staring longingly up at a dark window to a room she'd only been in a handful of times.

She must have imagined, the dark playing tricks on her eyes, but she thought she'd seen movement. There it was again. The curtain moved slightly and a pale face, dimly lit by the streetlamps, looked out onto the pavement where she stood. Before Misty had a chance to hide, her eyes locked with Cordelia's. They both stood frozen, breaths held, and when the ache in her lungs became too big to ignore Misty dragged her eyes to the ground before her. She turned quickly, running down the street, away from the Academy, the Coven and Cordelia's wide eyes.

. . .

As she opened the door to her home Misty was greeted by the very woman she'd just run from. Lit candles cast a flickering light in the small shack as Cordelia sat on the cot with one of Misty's shawls in her hands.

The silence stretched on as they stared at each other. Misty felt Cordelia's eyes burn into hers, into her soul, searching, looking for affirmation. Looking for truth.

"C… Cor… Miss Cordelia?"

"You're alive."

"Yes."

Misty fidgeted, suddenly unsure of herself. She neared the cot and awkwardly kneeled in front of the new Supreme. She stopped herself as she reached out to place her hands on Cordelia's knees and instead she let them fall to rest, palms up, on her own thighs.

"You're the Supreme." It was a silly, obvious, thing to say, but it was the only sentence her mouth was able to form.

Cordelia's smile was weak and she shrugged as if to dismiss the importance of her own status.

"Misty why didn't you come to me? I thought you were dead. You… You turned to ashes in my arms. You broke my-" Cordelia's voice trailed off and as tears escaped her eyes she bit her lip as if she'd said too much, as if she'd let a secret slip.

"I. . . What? What did I break?" Misty was flummoxed. She didn't understand. Had Cordelia not known that she had survived? What had she done that was terrible enough to cause tears? "What did I break? I never meant to. Please tell me and I'll try to fix it, whatever it is. I promise. Just tell me." She begged as tears escaped her eyes. She wanted to make things right. Whatever wrong she'd done, whatever hurt she'd caused, Misty would make it right or die trying.

Instead of answering Cordelia touched Misty's cheek, gently wiping the tears away. As cool fingers caressed her skin Misty couldn't stop herself from turning her head and placing a soft kiss in the palm touching her so tenderly.

"Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you tell me you were alive?" Cordelia's voice trembled.

"I thought you knew. I failed the Seven Wonders and you didn't try to find me so I thought you'd decided you had no use for me. The others never cared much for me."

"I did. I do. I care about you. So very much." Cordelia took a deep breath, her eyes once again meeting Misty's. "Your death broke my heart." She leaned closer, placing a kiss on Misty's forehead, resting her lips there for a moment before slowly drawing back again, tears still running down both their faces.

Misty didn't know what to say. She had no previous experience to fall back on. Her family had never been openly affectionate except for with their love of God. She'd never had a true friend, never had someone in her life who'd cared about her the way Cordelia's heartfelt confession implied. She felt her words fail her as she kneeled there, crestfallen on the floor.

"Would you hold me?" Cordelia's voice was uncertain, weak, wanting and needing all at the same time and Misty immediately raised her arms to enfold the silently crying woman. At first their bodies were stiff, but as they slowly melted into each other Misty felt her muscles relax and her heartbeat slow. She nuzzled Cordelia's neck, inhaling her scent and with each breath Misty felt the aching loneliness inside ease. She felt like she'd found the place she belonged. She'd finally found her tribe.

. . .

It was late morning, almost noon. The heat of the day had long since become close to unbearable and Misty felt the back of her dress stick uncomfortably to her skin. The bed she shared with Cordelia was on the verge of being too small for the both of them and the warmth between them should have been enough to drive them out into the slight breeze closer to the water, but they both stayed where they were, holding each other.

Neither woman commented on the closeness they were currently sharing. The intimacy could be blamed on the size of the cot, their general lack of sleep or on their emotions concerning their reunion and each other. They both ignored the reasoning behind it and instead simply enjoyed the moment.

They'd been awake throughout the night whispering explanations of what had happened while they'd been apart. Misty now understood why Cordelia hadn't come looking for her and she'd also made her own confusion about the transpired events known.

At one point Cordelia had tucked a wayward curl behind Misty's ear and her hand had stayed there since, buried in Misty's hair, fingers gently stroking. The slow movements against her scalp made Misty's breath hitch and mesmerized she stared at the familiar, yet to her completely new, brown eyes looking back at her. At first it had been strange, seeing Cordelia with healthy eyes both the same colour, but Misty quickly came to love them. She thought their richness fit perfectly with the woman.

"So, will you come?" Cordelia's words were timid and just loud enough to reach Misty's ears.

"Hmm?" Her brain felt sluggish, still fully focused on the eyes before her and the warmth that had moved from between them and into her being, into her heart. Misty hadn't known how cold she'd been until she'd felt Cordelia's arms around her and heard the words so clearly stating she was cared for.

"Come back home with me?" Cordelia whispered.

"I'd go anywhere with you.." Misty whispered back, conviction in her voice. In a bold move she leaned forward, pressing her lips against Cordelia's and as their breaths mingled together they both knew everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay, because they had each other.