Tess's Athenaeum.

The Tigress catches a running Lily in a hug and laughs lightly....before licking her cheek and releasing her to go back to her spot within the books. She smiles as Tess disappears toward the kitchen as she moved to follow Lily. She browsed the books, her gaze slowly moving over the many different titles and jackets. Slender, elegant fingers slowly slide along the spines of stories, memories of those she's read coming to her, along with curiosities of those she hasn't. There was a fair amount of both.

Finally, she let her form fall into a couch, nestling back within the pillows, pulling her sweatshirt tighter around her. She raises an eyebrow as Lily.

If you were a space pirate, you'd be a short, feisty, green alien.


Sagenods.

a loud laugh leaves her lips, and her body shakes with it.

I don't know how to take that.

As the laugh subsides, she just grins, shaking her head for a moment.

And you'd be the prettiest in all the land.

She picks up the book and leafs through it quickly.

This one. Inara. Pretty and kind and smart. That'd be you. She even likes women! And has some... Thing going on with Kaylee, the one I think Tess would be. So, there ya go.

She pauses.

Actually, just kidding, you'd be a space mermaid. They exist.

comes back in carrying another mug of steaming tea for Tigress, her face wrinkled slightly in the cloud blowing back into her face.

She would be a little green alien, wouldn't she? I agree with that statement.

she places the mug next to Tigress and settles back into her spot on the floor, reaching for her own still warm cup of tea. She takes a sip and then grins at Lily.

Tigress is pretty and smart, although I rather think she's quite the tough cookie. Is this Inara tough? Not that I'd mind being matched up with a lovely Cat, after all. And also, Lily, here you are playing matchmaking with two people so far--wait...

counts idly, ticking off delicate fingers.

Three people?! What?! Make up your mind! An awkward doctor, a big slash dumb sadist, and now finally a charmingly beautiful woman.

she glares at the younger girl, keeping her gaze fixed as she continues to drink her tea, finally muttering into her cup.

I have no idea where you get this stuff, really, do I look like I'd be able to juggle that many people?

The Tigress gracously accepts the tea, thanking the beautiful Tess for her hospitality. She sips very slowly, working around her her head. It throbbed, and she had to work to focus and breathe correctly, but she managed without looking overly uncomfortable. She smirked at Lily.

See, I think you have a hugely over estimated my awesomeness, gorgeous. I would definitely not be the prettiest person in the land. Mostly because that reminds me of a princess and I've never been a princess. Inara is a bit more girly than I think I can pull off. All lace and softness. I'm none of those. That being said....I believe Inara kicked some major ass in several episodes.

She raised a questioning eyebrow.

A space mermaid? I think I'd rather be a siren, gorgeous. A space Siren.....except for space has no water. You should pick a planet.

She smiles and looks back to Tess.

You totally could juggle that many. Use a whiteboard calendar for scheduling time slots. I know people who do it that way.

A slow smirk touches her lips.

She puts on her best faux angry face and growls at them.

You're both evil.

she looks back down at the book and then at Tigress. A smile touches her lips as she holds up the book, letting it close, almost, her finger holding her place.

Oh, your read the book? It looks wonderful from what I've read.

She turns to look at Tess

This other one... Zoe. She's the amazon I mentioned earlier. Captain's right hand woman. I guess Tigress would be closer to that. But, Inara's prettiest. That's why I picked her.

As for you, lovely Tess. You could handle as many people as you want, I'm sure.

a teasing smile appears on her face.

I still think you'd be best with Jane. But only for very specific situations. He's too dumb for an actual relationship. But hey, if I were stuck on the ship, I don't think I'd stick to just one person. But if you want to be boooring, you can just have one.

She raises herself from the floor and moves to Tigress, kissing her on the cheek before whispering.

I don't overestimate anything, lovely. You underestimate.

her laughter peals out, startled, then she muffles it by taking a drink of tea. The cup drained, she sets it aside, wiping off her lips. She watches the two women, chuckles still spilling out.

You are both quite optimistic as far as my juggling abilities go. I suppose I could try... A role I could sink my teeth into, as it were. So many possibilities...

she points a finger at Lily, a devilish flash darting through her eyes.

What about you, little miss? Will you hop around then? What tickles your fancy? I'm finding this a most informative lesson. I should really have salons like this more often.

she gazes about the room with appraisal, the last of the afternoon sun gleaming along her endless rows of books and drawers.

In fact, perhaps a party. Just maybe.

The Tigress shakes her head, then takes another sip of tea before setting the cup aside. She didn't seem to be craving food or drink.

I've not read it, no. But several have told me about it and have convinced me to read it with little bits of teasing information.

A chuckle escapes her at Tess' questioning of the enthusiastic one. They were adorable, the two of them. Especially when they managed to be in the same room.

Juggling is pretty hard, I'll admit. There are times I think I could do it. And then I realize that my needs would never get met, so it's likely better that I don't try. Circumstances would have to be.....better than perfect. I don't see that happening any time soon.

She turns to Lily and smirks, the mischief in her eyes akin to the devilish flash pumping through Tess'

She's right, you know. Just what exactly would you be doing on a little pirate space ship, sugar?

She returns to her spot on the floor an crosses her legs once she sits, surrounded by book, and loving it. She looks up innocently at Tess as she questions her and then to Tigress.

Me? Oh, I juggle, and I enjoy it. As long as it's honest, it's fun.

Her eyes twinkle as thoughts and memories run through her mind, the innocent look on her face turning mischievous.

On such a ship, really, though, there'd only be so many options. So, I guess it'd depend. I'd definitely be up to something, I can promise that. The nature of that something... I can't quite tell you.

Her gaze follows Tess's and she smiles at the mention of a possible party.

Although, as a little green alien, I'm not sure what I could possibly get up to.

she reaches out a hand and tickles Tigress on the knee, giggling conspiratorially.

I don't know, I think little green aliens could get up to quite a lot. It's a big... what'd they call it? Oh. A big 'verse after all. Lots of stuff to do.

thinking hard for a moment, her tongue creeps out of her mouth in concentration. She seems unaware of it, the pink tip passing over her bottom lip before it is abruptly hidden again behind white teeth.

If Tigress is the pilot, then the sneaky Vail will be captain. I'll be... hm, I'll be the doctor. You'll be a scrappy little fighter--

here she nudges Lily with a toe.

--that apparently won't say what she's up to. I suppose my doctor will be long-suffering, waiting for your explanations, hm? Always digging you out of trouble?

she glances at Tigress, concern on her face.

By the way, gorgeous, are you feeling okay? Not feeling like tea? You can lay down if you're hurting.

She laughs at Lily's explanation of just how she would spend time on board the pirate ship.

See, now, for me? I'd be thinking these are the people I work with. I have to see their faces every day. I don't think I'd be wanting to start something up with any of them, since it would pretty hard to have any kind of private relationship. That being said, I could be persuaded, if the right face showed up. Other than that, I'd be finding my entertainment at the ports we stopped at. Tess is right. The universe is vast. Why limit yourself to a scraggly skeleton crew?

She glances over at Tess and smiles softly, shaking her head.

I'm kinda sick....okay not "kinda." I am sick. But there isn't much that can be done about it at the moment and if I lay my head down....I think it'll explode. So, I think I'll sit here and fantasize about space pirates and who is screwing who on the little ship.

She smirks playfully

She smiles and nods, understanding that viewpoint completely, remembering a time when she would have agreed with it wholeheartedly. But things change.

Of course, I wouldn't settle. But if multiple people on that ship tickled my fancy... I don't really see myself letting the fact that people will know or even gossip about it bother me. I've been through it. I learned to stop caring about that.

She turns to Tess, biting her lip, thinking about the scenario she just proposed.

Sounds about right. I still don't think I'd be a green alien, though. Small and firstly, definitely.

she moves away from the window where she has been contemplating her frosted garden.

Ladies, I hate to be rude, but I believe I have some writing to do. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you wish, although I shall be preoccupied for the time being. It was lovely visiting and I'm quite sure it will happen again, as long as the Athenaeum has been a place you both have enjoyed.

kissing each of the girls gently on the cheek, she slips away, moving to the back--amongst the stacks, where the night is longer and shadows darker.

The Tigress returns the faint brushing of lips against a cheek, slowly rising herself.

Enjoy your night, gorgeous. It's probably best if I went, as well. Thank you for your hospitality, love. I greatly appreciate it.

She walks over and kissed Lily on the cheek as well.

We can talk space pirates again soon, I imagine. The both of you know how to find me.

She stops by the couch and picks up the tea she never finished. She found her way to the kitchen, cleaning her cup and setting it on the counter to dry. She made her way back to the front door, footsteps silent as she pulled up her hood. She disappeared out into the night, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

She watches the women disappear, having lost herself in the book, and stands slowly, taking the book with her as she exists, heading for her own space, she calls out behind her.

Have fun, wonderful!

Back in the Stacks.

fingers dawdle over shelves, slip into stacks of papers, trace spines of books. The light is fading behind, behind, and then gone. It gleams over her shoulder. Perhaps she can see its glow, the trace of her shadow on the floor. Etched onto wood. Crawling around the edges.

She slips ear buds into her ears, music trickling down. And down.

I spy something beginning with "s"...

There are doors back here, hallways, all closed and impenetrable. She had known they were here, but it's taken her some time to search through them beyond one fleeting chase. It hadn't lasted long. It hadn't scratched the surface. And so she is here, searching for the itch, the source. Creeping. The doors are obscure and solid. The halls are twisting and empty. The darkness surrounds, with the light at her back. And so her hands find the cool silver of an ornate handle. Circling. Pulling. Creaking.

On candystripe legs, the spiderman comes
Softly through the shadow of the evening sun
Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead
Looking for the victim shivering in bed

The only light in this room comes from a stand of candles in the corner. Overdone, yes, dramatic, yes—but nothing illuminates its contents as well as the flickering brightness. She doesn't stop to look at the centerpiece. Lazily she closes the door. Slips off her cardigan, hefting the IPod into her hand. Crosses to an Ipod dock, shifts the volume higher. Stands, rolling her neck, lifting the weight of her hair off of her back: the floral pattern of her dress vaguely sinister in the shadows. Peels off her tights and tosses them into the corner. She closes her eyes, listens to the music.

Searching out fear in the gathering gloom and
Suddenly
A movement in the corner of the room
And there is nothing I can do
When I realize with fright
That the spiderman is having me for dinner tonight

Please.

At this, she turns, her expression gentle. Her hazel eyes are oddly acquisitive, perhaps—avid.

Eager.

The girl laying on the floor opposite her curls into herself, clutching her white dress around her. Her black hair is no longer full and shining. Her face is no longer innocent or hopeful. Her green eyes are wide, though. Radiant. The light catches them in such a way: how odd, so pale they are. She is still exquisite, for all her lips are swollen and bruised. For all her wrists are encircled with purple. For all her throat and thighs are marked with vicious red half-moons. For all the chain around her ankle has rubbed into her skin.

Quietly he laughs and shaking his head
Creeps closer now
Closer to the foot of the bed
And softer than shadow and quicker than flies
His arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes

Tess smiles, running fingertips through her own crimson locks.

Please, baby? Please what?

The girl swallows. Her throat trembles. Her body arches away from the floor, as she tries to rise. Breathy moan. Girlish moan.

Please touch me.

Bare feet with red toes skipping across a floor, dipping, slow motion walking. An almost dance, but too languorous to be rhythmic.

Gripping her hair.
Almost fighting it.

A nibble of a fingertip as she stops some feet away. And then walks again, this time with more purpose. Candles keep dripping wax down their sides, oozing, watching. Conspirators in the gloom. The girl on the floor has moved to her back, raised up on elbows. And Tess kneels beside her, letting her hands sink into the once glorious black strands of hair. They are still silken, smooth.

A giggle, low and starved.
Muscles tense and a neck is brought to a nose and mouth.
An inhale, laughter again against skin.
Tongue darts out as she is pressed against her toy.
Whisperspeaking the words of the song.
Smelling the scent, perfume and fear.

"Be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy
Don't struggle like that or I will only love you more
For it's much too late to get away or turn on the light
The spiderman is having you for dinner tonight"

A desperate yank of teeth on a lip, purr roaring through her as something begins to loosen inside. Extricates. Unleashes. She holds the dainty chin in a firm grip, her lips slipping and caressing the ones so tender before her. The girl moans. Hands suddenly bored, shoving, tossing the girl back. A step to the side as a key on a necklace jingles, slides into a lock, a catch released. A girl out of bonds.

Touch you, baby?

She walks away, deliberately swinging her hips as she lifts her dress over her head, leaving her in a blue slip. Solid silk with lace edging. Bare legs and arms. Hair tousled and delicious. The girl cries out, bangs her fists on the floor. Tess closes her eyes, lifts her hands up to the ceiling, wiggles her fingers and turns around.

Speaking over the girl's anguish, taunting,

Come on, sweetheart. Crawl for it. Come to me.

And the spiderman is always hungry...

The sun outside is bright, though the air is crisp and bracing. She hurries to the entrance of her Athenaeum, arms full of packages and oversized purse, fumbling for her key. A flash of brilliant glare as the door swings into the light, and then dissipates as she pulls it shut with a satisfied sigh. Clicking of heels as she walks to a table, the boxes and bags spilling out from her arms onto the surface. A pause: she looks around and sees several empty crates stacked by the stairs. The shelves and display areas seem much more arranged, complete.

Hello? Girls?

She pulls off her coat, shakes out her hair, idly fluffs her bangs as she considers the collection she has just delivered. A twitch of her lips at a surge of anticipation, cut short when she hears further steps behind her. Turning, she leans a hip against the edge of the table, arms crossing, nails shining against the wool of her sweater. The two girls stand by the kitchen hallway, nudging each other briefly, giggling. One has full, lustrous black hair and fading marks on her neck. The other has a glorious mane of shimmering blonde curls. She is as yet unscathed. Both young women are dressed in blue dresses. Black ribbons in their hair. Not a maid's uniform, but a singular appearance. The light and dark. It suits Tess. She raises a brow but has too much on her mind to comment on the laughter.

There we are. The crates that arrived, you've put them away? Yes, I see. Now. I have to get ready, I need you to take--

She gestures to the pile beside her, and then she starts walking to the stairs.

--those away. Hang up the dress, baby, will you?

The darker haired girl nods as she pulls the wide, rectangular box from the pile. She looks up, watching Tess punch in the keycode.

Miss? Is it starting?

She pauses with her hand on the panel of wall that has swung back to reveal the passage to her quarters. Smiles. Tosses a glance back to their busy movements, only stilling for her reply.

Oh yes, sweetheart. It's starting.

The Tigress walked down the path, becoming more and more familiar each time she did. One day, it was likely she'd walk it through by habit, knowledgeable feet missing the rock here, the slight cracks that might cause a trip. But for now, she watched where she was walking. It wasn't long before her destination came into view. A smile touched her lips and she shrugged her back pack higher up on her right shoulder. It was going to be a good day.

She walked up to the door and knocked, a surprised eyebrow raising when the woman who answered was not the pretty lady she was expecting. Perhaps Tess hired help. She knew this place was endless on the inside, so it wouldn't be all that surprising if she had.

When the woman only looked at her questioningly, the Tigress remembered her manners and broke her train of thought.

My apologies, Miss. I was looking for Tess. She said I could get ready for her party here. Is that still okay?

The woman grinned at her, with a devilish gleam the Tigress wasnt quite sure how to interpret, and grabbed her hand, tugging her inside.

"Of course, it's still okay, silly. I just didn't think anyone would be here so early. Can I get you anything? Anything at all?

The Tigress thought that Tess' new helper glanced at her with hunger, but it was gone almost too fast to be certain. But it was enough for the Tigress to pay more attention, especially since the hand that had a hold on hers was unyielding. Curious, but again, not all that surprising.

Um, just show me where the bathroom is, thanks. I'd really appreciate it.

The woman giggled and began to almost drag a lean, altheletic frame down several twisting hallways, so many that the Tigress almost lost track. Almost. She had a feeling getting lost back here with this nameless aid would turn into quite the adventure...which she didn't have time for. They stopped at a bathroom tucked away within the stacks and the woman opened the door and pulled the Tigress in. That knowing, devious smile still played across her lips.

Are you sure you sure you don't need...help...with anything?

The question was innocent, but not. Oh, yes. This one was going to be trouble. It was a good thing the Tigress knew how to handle trouble, in whatever ways suited her mood best.

No, thank you, Miss. I'll be just fine.

The devilish little woman didn't release her hand. The Tigress could see the temptation in her gaze, the debate in her mind. But today wasn't the day for this new little helper. This day belonged to someone else. So the Tigress nipped the problem in the butt right away. Her tone dropped low. She filled her posture, her expression with confidence that was never there. She was good at faking it.

Let go of my hand, Miss.

The woman grinned, the gleam in her eyes sharp as a blade's edge.

Ooo. The Tigress does, indeed, have claws. How promising.

Only then, was her hand released. The woman walked out but turned, folding her arms across her chest. The Tigress knew, if she let her, the woman would stand there and watch. So, she let a smirk of her own touch her lips and she reached out, shutting the door in the woman's face. She heard fading laughter as she began to strip off the blue scrubs. She laughed to herself, shaking her head.

Trouble, indeed...

She turned on the shower, the water almost painfully hot. She jumped in, not knowing she had been taken to Tess' private bathroom.

The bedroom was alive with feminine bustle. Several pairs of shoes were lined up by the windows, heels marching down in displayed abundance. The blonde girl shifted from her place at the feet of Tess, her fingers lingering on a delicate ankle as both of the women looked at the effect in the mirror. Playful, bright. They were a good contrast. Tess nodded, her auburn hair glinting in gentle curls over her shoulder. A fingernail traced along her skin. She glanced down.

Care to try that again, sweetheart?

Her free foot came up in its pretty shoe, the heel capturing a dainty wrist under its merciless edge. Pressed down. Harder. The blonde girl gasped, pink lips parting as she tried to draw her hand back.

Your turn is coming.

Press.

But not today.

Press.

If you make me late for the party...

A heel twisted. Then a wrist released.

I'll not be pleased.

The girl slowly drew her hand back to her chest, cradling it against blue silk. Tess leaned down, drawing the pouting face into her gentle hands. Kissed the open mouth, and then shoved the girl away. A smile darted over the young woman's features and Tess was allowed to ignore it as the bedroom door clicked open, revealing a most troublesome black-haired female. She was amused at something, that much was clear. These girls and their endless tittering. One sparrow in the nest was quite enough, although she could not deny their usefulness. She spread her hands wide.

What, Tuesday? Care to share with the class?

The girl stopped smirking and straightened up, clasping her hands in front of her.

Miss Tigress has arrived. She's getting ready.

Tess grinned, sashaying her way over to the vanity. A paper wrapped package there. Pausing as she sensed something amiss in the workings behind her.

Tuesday, love, what room did you send her to?

A sudden nervous silence. Tess sighed, fingering the bow on the parcel in front of her. Her expression was serene but the air had changed to one of dangerous expectation.

I--I thought...

Thought? Am I fucking you to think? What room?

Tuesday shrank back against the door, her fun evaporating, fingers working in her skirt.

N-no, Miss. Your bathroom. A-and also--

Tess placed her hands on the vanity, leaned over, laughed.

My bathroom. Excellent. Oh, girl.

Snatching up the package she crossed the room, pressed a hard kiss to a damp forehead. Relaxed against the door, looking at the girl in amusement.

Also?

Tuesday flinched away from the affection, not yet believing her luck. Cautiously, she explained that two gifts had been delivered to the front entrance and were on the table outside the room. The blonde girl was quietly kneeling, watching the exchange, playing with a pair of black velvet pumps with completely absentminded intent.

From Miss Brit, I think, Miss. One for you and one for Miss Tigress.

Oh, lovely! Well, you girls... clean up in here. Tuesday, your little schemes will be dealt with later. I know why you did it. Stay away from the bathroom. Today is not the day to tease guests.

Tess fluffed her hair, eased out the door. Tuesday was pushed into the bedroom, the door pulled shut. Put immediately out of mind. Tess reached down and pulled up the boxes, examined hers, peeked inside. She grinned widely. Perfect. Brit thought of everything. Her arms now carrying three gifts, she paused outside the bathroom door, knowing that she could have entered from her bedroom. Why give the girls another excuse to giggle? She turned the handle, a puff of soap-scented steam rushing into her nose. A sigh. A pause of apprehension as she scanned her dress, before she lifted her chin again, satisfied. Perhaps a little early to surprise her date, but perhaps not. It was her Athenaeum, after all. The bathroom door closed, locked.

The girls were giggling in the bedroom again.

Little sounds caught her attention. She knew she was running late. Work always made her late. So, she wasn't entirely surprised when she heard the door open, saw the outline of a pretty lady within the dense steam. Nor the pitter-patter and fumbling, small and scattered sounds. She almost said something. But, she had a feeling Tess was late enough. She didn't need any more delays, even if the Tigress was tempted to tempt.

Once she heard the door close, she shut the shower off and hopped out, drying her body off quickly and wrapping her brunette locks in the towel until she was ready to deal with them. She picked up her backpack, setting it on the counter while she searched through it. Black panties slid easily over lean hips. A real black bra followed. She almost laughed at herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn one. Jeans were next, hiding toned legs, and then her shirt. She left the top three buttons undone, her pale skin showing through. She slipped socks and boots on her feet, rolling her jeans down over the boots. A glimmer caught her attention on the counter and she looked over, a slow smile touching her lips as she saw Tess had left her presents. She picked up the blade, studied it and tested the weight. She pulled the blade free, running her thumb expertly along the edge, testing its bite. More than a little excited with the gift, she put it back in its cover and slipped it in her left back pocket. She dug around in her bag until she found her shiny new CRKT and slipped it in her bak right pocket.

She turned back to study the present the pretty Witch had given her. It was beautiful, just like her...and thoughtful, also like her. She rolled up the sleeves of the shirt to her elbows and slipped the gift over her left wrist. Her right was soon wrapped in a simple leather bracelet.

She tugged the towel off her hair and quickly blow dried it...then straightened it, leaving it down for the first time in a long time. It framed her face well, and added a little bit of hidden femininity. She finally pulled the tie out from her backpack and slipped it around the actual skin of her neck, leaving her shirt collar open and flared. She tied a loose knot, leaving it more hanging from her neck, rather than tight around it. It had a slightly messy look, but it only added to the outfit. She finished with a light fragrance, not flowery or fruity, but unmistakably feminine.

Her wallet slipped into her bak right pocket with her knife, her phone in the left front. She took one last look in the mirror, sighing as the whispers in her head started to scream. She turned away before it ruined her mood. She reached into her backpack once more and pulled out a small, black velvet box, slipping it in her right front pocket. All set, she opened the door to find the same black haired vixen that had lead her to the room. The Tigress raises an eyebrow at her and the girl merely giggled, once again, taking her hand.

"This way, Cat. The party has already started.."

Meanwhile...

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery's child:
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

Friday read out loud, tilting on a polished black heel, a worn book held open with delicate fingertips. She was sentimental: the sun catching the dazzling array of gold in her hair, the black ribbon giving her an air of naïveté. Her voice was sweet and clear. Skin like fine porcelain.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love--

A feeling of being watched. Observed. She looked up from the book, brown eyes wide. Tuesday. The black haired girl smiled at her from the kitchen hallway, peering halfway around a door. The bites on her neck had nearly faded, but it wasn't for lack of trying to gain more. The ribbon in her hair marked her as something else. Deeper. Otherworldly.

Raven Hair giggled.

What are you doing there? Why aren't you reading?

Tuesday trailed a fingernail down the wood of the door, the scratching growing louder. Uncaring as to the ruin it made of her red varnish. A harshly etched line.

Oh, well, reading. Maybe the question should be, why are you reading?

She stepped out from behind the door, causing Friday to pace back. The book tumbled to the floor and sent up a scent of aged paper. The blonde made a noise of distress but did not move to pick up the tome. Too close. The door to the bedroom locked, and it was just behind...

Tuesday clucked her tongue, the sparkling emerald of her eyes keenly following the nervous movements. Spider walked her fingers over the sales counter. Rested her hand on the guestbook.

Keats on the floor. Whatever would Miss Tess say?

Friday gasped at the utterance of the name.

Don't--

Oh, don't be dull. She'll be out at length, with the Cat. We're here. Aren't you bored? Don't you want to have fun?

Stepping closer. Almost darting around tables and chairs. She moved so swiftly that Friday let out a cry of consternation and nearly tripped in her haste to get to the sanctum's door. Her hands scrambled for the key code but the tapping heels behind her made her hesitate. A costly second.

Hands tipped with crimson stroked down Friday's arms, caressed her wrists. Almost lovingly, tenderly. A breath. Friday didn't dare relax. She closed her eyes.

Your hands don't feel like hers.

They both knew why she said it. Tuesday obliged. The nails hooked, dragged, pulled an arm painfully behind a back. Shoved the girl, all lightness and purity, up against the shelves. Twisted. She reached up and grabbed a handful of those falling curls, being careful not to dislodge the ribbon. There were lines, even for her. Weren't there?

Very interesting, cunt. And what do they feel like?

Kicking apart the legs encased in black tights, a mirror of her own.

They don't get you hot?

Pressing a thigh up, bowing the girl onto her leg. Warmth, contact. Friday moaned, her cheek resting painfully against the sharp edge of a shelf.

Little liar. Open that lying mouth for me. Lie some more.

Friday panted, as Tuesday rocked her against that unyielding limb. So strong despite her fragility.

Friday was afraid.

Please--

The fear bloomed. Spread. She had just thrown gas onto the licking flames.

Oh, pleading. Mm.

Twist. Friction.

I think you're forgetting something. Tuesday comes before Friday. Does Friday cum before Tuesday?

A snicker. Yanked curls. Friday groaned, slowly devolving into a girl mess. She felt a white hot burst of rage, of frustration, so unlike her--foreign.

You'll have to beg me to cum. I don't kneel to you.

A pause.

Interesting.

Smoothed the curls, released a wrist.

Very interesting.

Friday was breathing heavily. She brought her wrist around, already bruised from a high heeled shoe, and massaged it gingerly. Aroused, hating, helpless. Silence through the Athenaeum. She turned around, and the girls stared at each other. Were they so very different? Where did they meet? Was it their shadows that were of a kind? Were they both prey?

Tuesday smiled. The expression lit up her face once more. She reached out her hand and took Friday's in an amiable way, avoiding her injured wrist.

Well, come on, anyway. We have to go fetch Miss Cat's things. She left them in the master bath. She's lovely. I like helping her. I'll be good.

Friday looked down at their linked hands. Wondering. The shift of mood left her reeling. She smiled back, hesitantly. Carefully.

Alright. We can put them by the door. We could wash her things for her, too.

Tuesday turned, gently leading the blonde back to the winding stacks. Her face was not visible to Friday, and so she was not warned.

Tuesday was still hungry.

A Package.

a reminder, in case the need arises, settled on a shelf in the stacks.

The Tigress walked down that path, the steps more familiar than the time before. She watched her step less, enjoyed the beauty around her more. The pale moonlight guided her, the night sky crisp and clear. There was still a chill in the air, which mildly annoyed her. Spring was supposedly on its way, but the Tigress hadn't seen any signs of it. She was so tired of being cold. She craved the warmth of the summer months. She just had to be patient. Always patient. Quite frankly, she was tired of being patient regarding that particular subject, but she knew she would be, anyway. It wasn't in her nature to be anything but. Besides, a temper tantrum would fall on deaf ears.

With her skin chilled, she walked faster, more than ready to be in the warmth of the Anthenaeum. She hugged her leather jacket tighter around her as she walked up the steps. She knocked politely. A moment past. Two. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, contemplating knocking again. But the door finally opened, a pretty blonde peeking out from behind it. The Tigress gave her a friendly smile.

"Hello, Friday. May I come in?"

The girl nodded and backed up, skittishly opening the door further. The Tigress stepped inside, the door closing with a soft click behind her. She looked around briefly before Friday's small voice drew her attention.

"You're here for your things, yes?"

"I am. If they are still in the bathroom, I'll go back and get them. I"ll only be a few minutes."

Friday's gaze lowered as she folded her hands behind her back. "They aren't there anymore. You should...you should probably come back for them during the day."

The Tigress raised an eyebrow. "Then, tell me where they are, sugar. I promise, I won't be long."

"No. No, it isn't that. You're welcome here. Tess insists. It's just..."

But Friday was cut off by the sharp slam of a book shoved harshly against the back of a shelf. It caught the Tigress' immediate attention, her gaze snapping in the direction of the sound. There she stood, raven tresses spilling around slender shoulders, a cocky smile on her lips. Tuesday. The Tigress instantly understood Friday's hesitation. She wasn't angry or frustrated. Truth be told, she had expected it. Tuesday was a woman who favored games. The Tigress began to prepare herself to play.

Without a word, Tuesday turned and disappeared into the stacks. The Tigress started to follow, but Friday's gentle fingertips surrounded her wrist. She glanced back at the blonde, seeing the concern in her eyes.

Please, come back when its daylight out. It's dark where she goes..."

The Tigress smiled softly, reassuringly. "I'm not afraid of the dark, pretty Friday."

She glanced down at her wrist and Friday released her, shrinking back. The Tigress leaned in and softly kissed her cheek.

"It's not your fault, sugar," she whispered before turning to follow Tuesday into the stacks.

She followed the path, turning when she saw a flash of red skirt here, the tips of obsidian locks there, the whisper of a giggle along the air. The further she descended into the endless shelves, the darker it became. Shadows crept further and further from their corners, daring the light to stop them. The Tigress wasn't afraid. The things that lived in the dark were not always evil. They were just different.

She had, long ago, lost track of where she was. She was far beyond anywhere she had explored before. Here, the books were old. Dusty. They smelled of ancient leather and parchment. The floor creaked beneath her feet, no matter how light she made her foot steps. It was unnerving, but she knew it was part of the game. Tuesday wanted her unsettled, in unfamiliar territory. If the Tigress wanted her things back, she would have to play the game. She could go to Tess. They would be returned to her immediately. She knew she was a coward, in many ways. But this would not be one of them. She would not run away when the gauntlet had been thrown at her feet.

She passed a plain mirror resting on a bookshelf in an empty space between strange tomes. She paused, studying it for a moment. It was just a small, square piece of glass, encased in a simple silver frame. But it was clean and shiny, freshly polished and clean. It stood out against the sea of archaic volumes. Emerald eyes encased in a ring of steel blue stared back at her. They were her own eyes, but something darker lurked within them. She recognized it.

You're procrastinating, chicken shit.

She turned away the moment the whispered thought passed through her mind. That was exactly what she didn't need. The sound of weight shifting along the aged floor caught her attention and she hurried down the aisle and turned left, catching the click of heels at the end of the new row and to the right.

There were more mirrors placed randomly along the shelves. There were some at eye level, some reflecting her black and white cross trainers, some at waist level. She slowed her pace, a sinking feeling that she was close to where Tuesday wanted her settling in. She tried not to look at the mirrors as she passed. But, like always, she couldn't keep her gaze away.

When you're done with this childish game, you need to get your ass to work. Sloppy....Pathetically weak....Not fast enough...She's smarter than you, not that it's a difficult feat to achieve...Move your ugly ass!

Tearing her gaze away, she shook her head and hurried down the isle, keeping her head down. She was slipping down that slope into a head space she shouldn't be in while playing cat and mouse with someone like Tuesday. She already felt smaller, wanted to slide into the shadows and hide. But she kept going. She could handle it. She always handled it.

She turned to the right and skidded to a stop just in time to keep herself from running into a closed door. She pushed the whispers aside, raising an eyebrow. She reached out and turned the knob, finding only complete darkness in the room beyond.

Suddenly, she was flying forward from the force of a strong shove to her back. She stumbled into the room, but her natural athleticism, as well as practiced experience, had her finding her balance quickly and without falling. She turned around just in time to see the door shut behind her. Silence filled the room, and she stood still in the pitch black. The pulse in her throat jumped as panic set in. But it was only for a moment. She was a medical professional. She was a trained lifeguard. Her mind was logical and rational. It had been beaten into her head repeatedly that panic was useless. It was out of place here. Nothing was really wrong. There was danger, but she was safe here. The real game had begun.

She drew in a deep breath. It escaped her lips in a slow and steady stream. She stood up straight. She kept her eyes open, waiting for them to adjust, but she listened more than she tried to see. She heard nothing, but she could tell the room was carpeted beneath her tennis shoes. Tuesday was in there with her, somewhere. But the carpet would hide the sounds of her movement.

The Tigress wouldn't search for her. She wouldn't fumble around aimlessly in the dark. She had willingly walked into the woman's trap. If Tuesday wanted her, she would have to come and get her. Patience. Always patience. The minutes were long, soundless. Not even the tick-tock of a clock could be heard. It was...empty. Except for the whispers. They took advantage, slithering up from the corners of her mind.

Patience, Tigress? Your patience is a mask for your inability to act....A pathetic situation. It suits you perfectly....You should be better than this....Not even worth the time she's wasting...

She swallowed and closed her eyes. They were getting louder. She was feeling smaller. Further down. But lights suddenly flashed on. Though it was soft, her eyes closed, it still burned. She winced and raised a flat hand to shield her gaze, giving them time to adjust. She slowly moved her hand away...and froze. The room was full of mirrors, all around her. All shapes and sizes. The furniture had been pushed back to the walls, the couches and comfortable seats, all paved the way for the array of glass. Tens of images of the Tigress started back at her, burning holes in her skin with their lurking gazes.

She turned in a slow circle, taking in the many different faces. Different but all the same. But she stopped when one showed something different. Tuesday was behind her, crimson nails and a snarky smile. The Tigress started to turn around fast, but slender fingers fisted around her ponytail and yanked hard enough to snap her head back painfully. A heeled foot drove into the back of her right knee. Training had her keeping that knee soft instead of rigid, collapsing forward to protect it from injury.

Anger shot through her, wickedly fast and sharp. Like the crack of a whip. It was an extremely rare emotion for her and it was gone almost as soon as it had come, molding into competitiveness. Even as pain laced through her scalp, the angle of her neck, and the crack of her knee as it hit the floor, her mind was working. Reach behind and grab a slender wrist. Rise up while pulling Tuesday's weight over a toned shoulder to slam her back into the dark carpet. A knee to her elbow joint to snap it, followed with a drive of the heel of her boot into a pretty face. It would be easy. The Tigress knew she was stronger, faster. Her fitness was better.

But she knew she wouldn't. She wasn't a violent woman, even if she was drawn to it. Nothing good ever came out of responding with blind aggression. Tuesday wasn't really hurting her. It would be different if she was. The Tigress knew how to defend herself, and she would, if the threat was real.

That's the biggest crock of shit you've thought all night. You don't defend yourself. You're not worth defending. Remember the last time someone really hurt you? You were stronger then, and you laid back and took it like a little bitch. You didn't fight then, and you won't fight now. Coward.

The Tigress inwardly winced and shut her eyes. Her heart tightened as the whispers struck home, hard. They were right, of course. They always were. They were the truths she tried to hide from. The bitter disappointment and disgust she had for herself sliced open old wounds that never fully healed. They bled, every time the whispers won. She wasn't IvoryTigress. She didn't have claws. A white tiger was everything she wished she was. Beautiful. Confident. Fierce. She was just a woman, a weak one at that. The competitiveness was gone, along with the desire to hold onto it.

"Where did it go, Kitty Cat? I saw it. It exists," Tuesday said, yanking brunette tresses a bit harder.

The Tigress set her jaw and didn't answer. What went on in her mind was for her and her alone, especially not for someone who couldn't care less about her.

No one cares about you. You're a worthless piece of trash. No one wastes their time.

She stiffened, even with her back painfully arched. Pretty girl. A pretty girl cared about her.

For now. It won't last. Eventually, she'll see you for what you are.

There were times when the Tigress believed her incredibly vivid imagination, her ability to genuinely feel the scenes and worlds she constantly built in her mind, were a curse. Images of her life empty and the events leading to it flashed before her eyes. They hurt as if they had really happened. The raw pain they inflicted was very real. Her heart shattered and she couldn't stop the silent tears from spilling down her cheeks.

"So soon? I haven't even begun, Kitty Cat. Tell me, what brings those tears? I know it wasn't me." Tuesday said, trailing her nail down the slick paths along the Tigress' cheek, tainting the streaks crimson.

She swallowed and forced her eyes open, finding the amused ones of the woman who started her head down that path. The tears embarrassed her, but she could not stop them. She told herself over and over that the images were lies. It only marginally helped. After all, they could happen. Even if it wasn't likely, it was still a possibility that brought cold fear to her heart.

"No. That isn't for you. You don't get to know that," she said quietly, how small she felt more than evident in her voice. But there was also a subtle, iron determination hidden within it. The Tigress would refuse to budge.

Tuesday growled in response, her free hand yanking down the zipper to the Tigress' coat. Grabbing the collar at the back of the Tigress' neck, Tuesday yanked it straight down, tearing it from her body. It was tossed aside as Tuesday released the ponytail, coming to stand in front of the Tigress.

"Everything is for me tonight, darling..." She leaned in close, biting the Tigress' bottom lip. "Tell me, Kitty Cat."

She tilted her head back, slowly tugging her trapped lip free before she, once again, found Tuesday's eyes, held them unwaveringly.

"No."

It came. The Tigress hadn't anticipated it, but her body reacted without a need to think. Tuesday was fast, but the Tigress was faster. Her arm was up, protecting her face before the open-handed slap had a chance to even come close to her cheek. Tuesday's wrist was caught within the Tigress' steel grasp.

"Everything is -not- yours tonight. I'm not a piece of meat. I am a toy, but I am not -your- toy. I pick who gets to play, and you don't care about me anywhere near enough to get to smack me in the face."

The firm tone in her voice surprised her, but she wasn't going to question it. But she also knew she wouldn't hurt Tuesday. She did not intentionally cause harm. Not ever. Not even when harm was intentionally inflicted upon her. Two wrongs didn't make a right. She released the slender wrist slowly.

An amused smirk touched Tuesday's lips as she reached forward, grabbing the Tigress by the collar of her button up shirt, yanking her to her feet. The dark woman tore the shirt open with a quick flex of muscle, sending buttons scattered across the room. The amused smirk turned sinister as the gaze lowered to the body beneath.

"We'll see about that, Kitty Cat."

She walked around the Tigress, trailing a scarlet tipped nail along her collar bone, giggling when the Tigress shivered. She grabbed the shirt and yanked if off, tossing it carelessly over her shoulder. The Tigress was left bare from the waist up in a room full of mirrors. There was no where she could look where her reflection didn't glare back at her, except one. It was where she always looked, anyway. It was where her gaze belonged. With lead in her chest, she lowered her head and dropped her gaze to the floor.

Fingertips twisted in her hair again, dragging her to the closest full length mirror. As much as she didn't want it to, the sensation, the sharpness, pushed her toward that place. The place where the need of submission pulsed through her. The need to please. The need for pleasure. The need for pain. Where it all infused together and left the Tigress wanting more.

She stood in front of the mirror, refusing to look at it. She knew what would happen if she did. They would get louder, and she'd already had enough. Letting a stranger see her tears when she hid them, whenever she could, from the people who loved her was shameful. She should be stronger than that.

No excuse. None. For your weakness...Unacceptable....You prove it, time and again. You don't deserve them...You never will...

A warm body pressed against her back, fingertips dancing across her flat stomach, toying with the silver dragon at her belly button. The Tigress knew what was coming. She dreaded it. She didn't have the strength and she knew it. But she wouldn't stop it. The only person who would hurt was her. That's all that mattered. No one else would be bothered.

Her head was yanked back, a tongue teasing the skin of her neck, hot breath danced across her ear. Smooth. Seductive. Cruel.

"Look in the mirror, Kitty Cat." It was a growl. A demand. An order the Tigress couldn't deny. Even if she wanted to, her gaze would find the glass. It always did. She hated it. She had to see it. Hated what stared back. Couldn't live without it.

So, she looked, and just for a moment, all she saw was herself. Pale skin. Brown hair. Eyes tainted by wounded tears.

The lines of your abs aren't sharp enough. Lazy...No excuse...All your hard work wasted because you didn't train the past week. Ruined. You couldn't get your fat, flabby ass out of the chair for thirty God damned minutes.

She had been so tired. She had clocked in close to sixty hours that week. Just so tired...

Excuses! There is always time for your fucking fitness. You're a fucking slob. It's no wonder no one wants you.

"Tell me, Kitty Cat. What's your body fat percentage?" Tuesday whispered, fingertips tracing up the cut lines of the Tigress' abdomen.

Her ear twitched, goosebumps traveling up her arms. She wanted to lean back into the woman, to close her eyes and just be held. But she knew the woman behind her had no comfort to give. The Tigress wouldn't lower herself by asking.

"I'm not sure. It's been a while since I've checked."

Fingertips were fast and the Tigress sucked in a harsh wince, pain searing through her nipple as it was violently tugged and twisted.

"Don't fucking lie to me, cunt." A fresh twist. A new gasp. "Do you think you're a good liar?" A whimper, her chest alive with sharp agony as a second nipple was captured. "What. Is. The. Number."

Be a good little slut and please her.

"Thirteen or fourteen percent," she whispered softly.

Too fucking much. Look at the way those ridiculous chicken wings flap. You're pathetic. Everyone sees it...Ugly...Lazy...If you worked harder and didn't eat like a fucking pig, you wouldn't have this problem.

The Tigress relented. She'd eat less. Tomorrow, she would do the hour long video. She would make it better. She would fix it. She would work to make herself worthy.

You'll never be worthy, but, at least, the effort will make you less pitiful.

The pain in her nipples lingered as Tuesday twisted them between her fingers for several moments longer before finally releasing them. Her hands disappeared, and the Tigress didn't trust the glint in Tuesday's eyes, locking with hers over her shoulder in the reflection. When those hands moved in front of her again, they held a red sharpie, uncapped.

"Stay still, Kitty Cat. I'm going to make you beautiful. Because I only fuck beautiful women. And I have every intention of fucking you."

See? Even she knows you have to be made. You need help. You simply are not good enough.

The Tigress looked down. Tears threatened to spill, but she fought them back. She would not cry again. Not even when the marker started to trace the outline of every muscle it could find, accenting them in the color of blood.

Tuesday growled in her ear. "Watch, Kitty Cat."

It may as well have been blood. The paths the pen took carved every line, traced the squares of her abdomen, the curves of her biceps, the line between her pectoral muscles along her chest. It was a knife that sliced the Tigress a little more with each stroke. All the parts of her that she worked so hard to accept, not good enough. Never good enough. Never strong enough. Or pretty enough. She always had known the pretty girl had settled for mediocrity. The red lines only proved it.

When the letters F.A.T were carved into her chest, what was left of the shattered pieces of her heart dissolved. Silent tears. Always silent. Noisy tears were disturbing to others. They drew attention. Loud and obnoxious. Silence, Tigress, lest you wake another beast.

Tuesday threw the pen aside and stepped in front of her. She didn't fight when Tuesday shoved her back. Once. Twice. Three times. Her body fit through a, no doubt planned, space between the mirrors. Her back hit the wall, pinned there by a feminine frame. When Tuesday kissed her, she didn't fight it. She drank it down. When her jeans were impatiently tugged open, she didn't fight it. She savored it. Anything to make the whispers stop screaming. Anything to make the unbearable pain in her heart disappear. Anything. Yes....anything..

_____________

An hour or two or ten later, the Tigress didn't know, Tuesday was gone. She had skipped away, leaving the Tigress with her backpack of belongings. All her things were there, nothing missing. But the Tigress didn't care. She was alone. In a room full of mirrors. Her heart ached. The whispers had returned the minute Tuesday left her cold. She slid into her clothing, wiping the tears from her eyes. But more came. They would come for the rest of the night. She picked herself up and left the room, button up shirt pulled tightly around her marked flesh. She walked, aimlessly wondered, until she found an empty room with no mirrors, with no light. She curled up on a couch, making herself into the tightest, smallest ball she could. She pulled her jacket over her like a blanket, shivering. She closed her eyes...and gave herself to the darkness...Not everything in the dark was evil. Some things were just wounded...

The gray light of morning filters in through the windows of the Athenaeum. Heels outside the door. Key in the lock. Purse is placed on a table, hair shaken out. Tess still wears her dress from her foray into the club. Her hazel eyes are tired but miss nothing. They certainly don't miss Friday sitting in the window seat. There are tear tracks on her face.

Right from the start
You were a thief
You stole my heart
And I your willing victim
I let you see the parts of me
That weren't all that pretty
And with every touch you fixed them

What's happened?

Not turning to her mistress, Friday traces a star in the fog on the window. Her voice is empty.

She wouldn't let me find her.

Tess feels her mouth go dry.

Who? Find--?

There is a piece of paper on the floor next to Friday. Tess crosses the room, slowly, unease growing with every step. She lowers herself, picks it up. Her fingers hesitate before she turns it over to see its contents. A sheet of notebook paper. On it, a messy drawing of a cat's smiling face. Childlike. Scrawled.

Now you've been talking in your sleep, oh, oh
Things you never say to me, oh, oh
Tell me that you've had enough
Of our love, our love

Where, Friday?

The blonde girl finally raises her face to meet the searching look. She lifts a trembling finger, pointing back into the stacks.

The red room.

The paper is crumpled in a fist, dropped carelessly to the floor. Tess knows she shouldn't run, she should walk, she should be confident. Tuesday is lurking somewhere, she knows. But her shoes tap quickly on the floor, her auburn hair a drifting stream as her heels meet the wooden floorboards.

The doors pass, the stacks flash by, the blue lace of her dress is a shifting flame.

Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
It's in the stars
It's been written in the scars on our hearts
We're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again

Hands finding a doorknob, yet again, questioning, looking in all this mess. All this dark. All these corners. All these halls. A door yanked open. The muted red of the walls, the glaring blackness of a leather couch, a bundle wrapped and hidden. A breathing bundle. A Cat.

Her fingers fall away from the door.
She feels her teeth in lip, her tongue, biting hard.
Hard enough to bring blood.

Enough.

A palm placed on a shoulder, first. But too far, too much, not saying what she wants to say. Stroking over the brunette hair, the soft cheeks, trying to erase the tracks of tears cried in shadow. Knowing, always knowing, the reflection is there. The voice is there. The whispers are there. Tess wraps her arms around, delicate steel. Or, at least, she wants them to be. Full and brave and ready to carry.

I'm sorry I don't understand
Where all of this is coming from
I thought that we were fine
(Oh, we had everything)
Your head is running wild again
My dear we still have everythin'
And it's all in your mind
(Yeah but this is happenin')

The door creaks behind her in the stillness. Tess smells the scent of lavender, with something darker--some sharp spice. Her eyes close and she presses her lips to the head she soothes, because it is all she can do. Draws her mouth away.

You're not me. You're used as I use you.
My little black flame, Tuesday.

The raven hair gleams in the light.

You've been havin' real bad dreams, oh, oh
You used to lie so close to me, oh, oh
There's nothing more than empty sheets
Between our love, our love
Oh, our love, our love

Friday moves into the room, giving Tuesday a wide berth. Edging her body away from the other girl, not wanting to touch, not wanting to look. Tess begins to help Cat up from the couch, whispering, promising, hushing. Friday hitches up the jacket around the shoulders of the Tigress, leads her out of the room. Tuesday stands, chest rising and falling, her green eyes wide and--something. Regretful? Resentful? Tess doesn't try to search them. The two women stand, across, the red and the dark.

The rain goes on outside the windows.

I know what's in the dark for you, Tuesday. I know. You will always remember.

Her heels begin to carry her from the room. The girlish voice behind her stops her steps, but only just.

You wanted me this way.

Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
I never stopped
You're still written in the scars on my heart
You're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again

Tess doesn't turn around, but instead speaks to the hall beyond.

Your shadow is just a shadow, Tuesday. It doesn't consume, no matter how much you want it to. It always falls behind you. It can never lead you. The sun always rises.

Tuesday closes her eyes. She slides down to the floor. The marker is still visible on her hands. Tess misses nothing.

Oh, tear ducts and rust
I'll fix it for us
We're collecting dust
But our love's enough
You're holding it in
You're pouring a drink
No nothing is as bad as it seems
We'll come clean

The door is shut, and the heels echo away, and Tuesday watches the water stream down the glass.


Tess took the Cat into the master bath, removed the jacket, removed the shirt, removed the jeans. As much as she wanted to cry and rage aloud at the writing on her skin, she resisted. Friday herself wept, and so Tess sent her from the room. Soon the steam from hot water obscured almost everything. The Cat was cradled in the water, and Tess, as gently as she knew how, tried to scrub away the marker. The red ink colored the bath and so she drained it, filled it again. A restoration. As much as she could attempt it.

She said nothing.
What could she say?
The cloth brushed over back and abdomen and arms, legs and hands and feet, erasing. The water rippled and splashed.
The back of a hand brushed fiercely at a tear that shone from her face.
What could she say?

Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
It's in the stars
It's been written in the scars on our hearts
That we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again

At last the skin was unmarked, a fresh slate. Beautiful and whole. Tess knew better, but she still wrapped the precious woman in a fluffy white towel. Caressed her cheeks with the backs of her fingers. Friday waited outside the door. She followed the two of them into the bedroom, with its walls of white, and watched as Tess slid the blankets back on the bed. Gently pulled away the towel, slipped Cat into safe softness. She knelt next to the bed, allowing herself time to stroke Cat's hair away from her forehead. A hand pressed in a hand. A kiss brushed over a palm.

You're beautiful, Cat.
So beautiful.

She had fallen in beside her, not taking off her dress, but holding, holding to her chest. If she could kiss or touch or scratch away the memory, she would have. But Tess couldn't. Her heart was heavy. Friday moved to the bed in her white nightgown, timidly waiting. Tess held out a hand. The girl eased next to her mistress and let her blonde curls fall free over the pillows.

The dark of the night was over, and day had returned, in the mist of morning.
The light always returned.

Tess had to believe.

Oh, we can learn to love again
Oh, we can learn to love again
Oh, oh, that we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again