Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s cold.

There’s a fan spinning slowly overhead. The windows are cracked, letting in the biting frost of winter. Cool air blows through vents on the wall, swirling through the room, making the vapors of breath visible to the naked eye.

Silence loves the cold.

It’s calm. Things move slower in the cold; atoms vibrate at lower frequencies, cell walls solidify, and become rigid. It gets easier to work through processes, as the temperature drops. It becomes harder to think about anything other than the body in front of you, lying on the table.

So Silence does what she can to keep her lab cold. She cranks the air conditioning, even as snow falls. She opens the windows wide, and turns on the ceiling fan. She wears little other than a turtleneck, and a pair of shorts under her lab coat, giving birth to goosebumps on her freshly shaved legs, and turning her knuckles red.

The only other person who can stand it is Ptilopsis, her research partner. She grew up in the cold, is less receptive to it since her accident, so she invites it in, as well, smiling when a stray snowflake falls into her coffee. 

There was another who could tolerate it, once. She doesn’t come around very often anymore. Silence prefers it that way.

What does it matter, anyway? 

It doesn’t. All that matters is the body on the table in front of her, fingers still twitching despite being on the verge of death.

She takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, and extract the thoughts of the past that coursed through her before they could spread, acting as a sort of vaccine for irrationality.

“Doctor Silence?”

It’s Ptilopsis’ voice that rouses her, pulls her from the depths of her mind, as her partner so often did.

“Yes?” She replies, looking up, counting the feathers that peeked out of her head.

“We’re ready to begin when you are.”

“Of course.” 

Silence nods. She takes a deep breath.

“First things first, I need this patient to be put under,” She instructs, and two of her assistants scramble to find, and administer an anesthetic. “And why is he on his back? Have we not done this enough to know that it’s stomach down?”

“S-sorry, Doctor Silence.” A third assistant rushes to flip the patient over

Once accomplished, she picks up the sharpest scalpel she has, the metal cold, and biting through the latex of her gloves. The assistants step out of the way, one holding his head still, while the other two crowd around Ptilopsis, and Silence steps forward, taking another deep breath. She counts to twenty-three in her head, silently mouthing each syllable, as she goes. That had always been her lucky number.

“Ready?” She asks, looking up Ptilopsis.

The doctor offers only a nod in response, but it’s all she needs.

Silence runs her scalpel down the second fifth of the skin covering the patient's spinal column. It splits open like paper, and an assistant presses a gloved hand over it, while Silence sets down her scalpel on a tray. She grabs two pairs of tweezers, squeezing and opening them, in order to double check, and she turns back to the operating table. She watches, as the assistant pulls his hand away, and, with the utmost care, she peels apart the skin, making the three assistants close their eyes at the sight.

Ptilopsis picks up the injection, but Silence can see her hand shaking.

“Breathe, Joyce,” She tells her.

Ptilopsis closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. Her hand steadies, her brow furrows, and, when she opens her eyes, she looks resolute. She places the injection tool over the middle of what’s been revealed by Silence’s incision, and pulls the trigger, a loud, almost piston-like sound echoing through the room, before silence blanketed over it once more.

Ptilopsis puts the injection tool down, and the two begin the final process, sewing and stitching the incision back together. They make short work of it, thanks to their assistants’ help, and, in little more than half an hour, they’re out of the operating room.

Silence feels the outside is much too warm, but she downs a cup of coffee regardless, as she waits for the assistants to change out of their scrubs.

“He’ll need to be under observation for a month,” She tells them, once they’ve returned. “Don’t let him wear anything without an open back until the stitches are out. If there’s any complications, you know where to find me, and, if not, I’ll return when it’s time for his exit evaluation.”

The assistants nodded, and Silence walked away, leaving Ptilopsis to her own devices, and dropping her paper cup in the trash can on her way.

Chimeric Surgery, while still experimental, has made leaps and bounds since the roughly four years since Silence and Ptilopsis had failed to save a young girl’s life with it. This is largely due to the pair's seemingly uncanny penchant for experimental treatment, and their unending research into it. Most labs and hospitals still don’t practice it, but the two have it down to a science—not that it isn’t to begin with—working like an oiled machine in the operating room. Recovery has gotten easier thanks to advanced methods, patient life expectancy post-operation has increased drastically, and, for the most part, you can expect to live a fairly normal life after undergoing the procedure.

Silence can’t help but to feel bitter at the fruits of her labor, however. She starts to sweat, though her office and the hallways were likely only in the mid to low seventies. Once alone and out of sight, she practically threw her lab coat at her desk, and ran her hands through her hair.

This is why she doesn’t like the warmth.

It makes things accelerate. It makes things easier to remember. It makes bile rise in her throat. It makes the world spin, leaning to the right, and then to the left, and, worst of all, it reminds her of the very last thing she ever wanted to think about. 

She wipes away the sweat that had formed at the back of her neck, and is pulled from her ruminations by a knock at the door. She walks to the large, wooden frame at the front of her office, and pulls the door open.

She’s nearly tackled to the ground when she does.

“Momma!” A cheery voice sings, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Hi, Ifrit,” She replies easily, wrapping her arms around the girl's back, and squeezing. They separate, and Ifrit beams, looking proud. “Did you have a good day, sweetie?”

“Mhm, mhm,” She hums, nodding her head. “I got first place in the mile run, and rope climbing, and the cafeteria had pizza today.”

Ever since Ifrit’s postoperative symptoms had gone away, she had been able to start regularly attending school, even if it was just a small set of classes for personnel with children. Silence had half expected her to hate it, but, surprisingly enough, she took to it well, seemingly making a handful of friends, and excelling in more than a few areas, despite her mental age not quite catching up with her physical one yet.

“That’s lovely, sweetie,” Silence says in praise, and she ruffles the girl’s hair—which is no small feat, considering Ifrit now stands less than half a foot shorter than Silence herself does. “I’m proud of you.”

“The teacher said my physical apititude is really high.”

“Do you mean aptitude, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah, that. I’m gonna be just like daddy when I grow up!”

That makes Silence pause. Her expression screws into something unreadable, some mixture of pain and confusion, of sorrow and longing. She knows who Ifrit is referring to before she even asks.

“Be like who?”

Ifrit’s eyes widen, and Silence watches, as she shifts from foot to foot. “Well- You know- Like…” She mumbles the last word quiet enough to be inaudible.

“Like Saria, right?”

Ifrit nods slowly, looking at the ground.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Ifrit,” and Silence kneels down, wrapping the girl in as tight a hug as she can manage. “I’m not gonna scold you for wanting to be like her.”

“But she- And you-” Ifrit’s words stumble, unable to properly form whatever thought she was having.

“That’s okay. I understand, baby, I promise.” It takes an unshakeable will for her eyes not to water. “You shouldn’t be like us, though.”

Ifrit cocks her head to the side in confusion. “Why not?”

“It’s our wish, it’s every parent's wish, really, that their kids won’t turn out like them, but that they’ll be better. You have so much potential, Ifrit; you should aim a little higher.”

“Okay, mom,” and Silence feels Ifrit lean into her, resting their heads together, and squeezing her tighter.

Her ‘unshakeable will’ breaks, then, and she can do little, as a tear rolls down her cheek.

They separate, Silence wiping her face with the back of her hand, and it makes Ifrit look concerned. “Are you okay?”

Silence does her best to smile. “Of course I am, sweetie. Momma’s just a little emotional, that’s all.”

“I’m here for you, mom,” Ifrit says, so sincere, and it makes Silence smile. 

“Thank you.” After a moment, however, a thought crosses Silence’s mind, and she can’t help but to voice it. “Why do you call her that, anyway?”

“That’s what you used to call her,” Ifrit offers in explanation, smiling.

Silence winces. “Right.”

The rest of the day goes by in a flash. Ifrit heads back to where she and Silence live to do homework, Ptilopsis comes by and asks for evaluation notes for a few of her patients, and quickly leaves—it’s sad, Silence thinks, how little they get to see each other nowadays. The most curious thing that happens, however, is that, eventually, a tuft of white hair, and cat ears poke their way into her office.

It seems Kal’tsit decided to pay her a visit.

“Are you busy?” The medical officer asks, in lieu of a proper greeting.

Silence sets down her pen, and takes off her reading glasses. “No more than usual, I suppose.”

“You’re needed in conference room six.”

“Okay,” and Silence rolls her eyes, putting her glasses back on, and staring back down at her papers. “Give me a sec, and I’ll head down there.”

Kal’tsit nods, but she doesn’t move.

It makes Silence uneasy. “Is there something else you needed?”

“No, but just-” Kal’tsit pauses, and, when Silence looks up, she swears she can see something like compassion in the eyes of the normally standoffish medical chief. “Don’t overwork yourself, Olivia.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Silence replies, monotone, and, after a moment, Kal’tsit finally leaves her office. Silence lets out a deep sigh, scribbles something on her notes, and then stands up. She takes off her glasses, and pushes through her office door, shaking her head. “This better be good.”

When she arrives at the conference room, however, it’s the very last thing she expects.

Saria sits on top of the table, leaning against it, looking all too unbothered. She’s just as built as Silence remembers, if not more so, biceps and thighs straining against the fabric of her uniform. Silence watches, as she takes a drag from a cigarette, and blows it into a vent on the ceiling.

She has to bite the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t scream, and she can taste the tang of copper on her tongue.

Eventually, after Silence had stood in the doorway for much too long, Saria notices her, and throws her a grin. “Hi, Olivia.”

Silence marches right up to her, and swipes the cigarette from her hand, fury burning in her expression. “You don’t get to call me that anymore,” She says, voice low, and fierce. Then, she takes a step back, and flicks the stolen cig into the trash can. “And don’t smoke inside.”

Saria shrugs. “You didn’t used to mind. You also didn’t used to be so loud.”

“There’s a lot of things I didn’t used to mind, Saria.”

“Okay, okay,” and Saria sets her hands on the table behind her. “How’s your research going?”

Silence can feel the pencil in her hand snap. “Is there something you needed, or did you call me down here just to give me a headache?”

“A little small talk never hurt anybody, right?”

“I’m leaving,” and Silence turns around, halfway through the door when Saria calls out to her.

“There is, actually.”

Silence quickly whips around, facing towards Saria once more. “What?”

“Some of your patients have been causing issues,” Saria says bluntly. “Ptilopsis may have been by to get some files for me earlier, but I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“What kind of issues?”

“Nothing insidious, don’t worry,” Saria replies, waving a hand at her. “Small bouts of uncontrolled outbursts, likely caused by a buildup of originium in the brain stem, followed by prolonged amnesia, and symptoms of worsening oripathy before both disappear completely.”

For a moment, Silence forgets her ire. She taps a finger against her chin, chewing on her lip like she does whenever she focuses too hard on something, and she stares at the ceiling. “How many?”

“Six, so far.”

“And how long ago did they receive treatment?”

“All between two and three years.”

Silence shakes her head. “And this is the first I’m hearing of this, why, exactly?”

“Beats me; you were the first person I thought to come to.”

After a brief bout of questioning, however, she remembers where she is, and her mind ceases its wandering. Her brow furrows, and she stares at Saria as if her gaze had the power to kill.

“Why did they put you, of all people, in charge of this?”

Saria just shrugs.

“Whatever,” and Silence rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’ll look into it.” She’s nearly through the door by the time she finishes speaking.

“Wait, Oli- Er, Silence.” Saria’s words make her stop in her tracks.

“What?” 

“Is Ifrit doing okay?” Saria asks, and suddenly she seems small, and meek, as if she’s not the hulking legend that she is.

Silence sets her jaw, and clenches her hand into a fist, so hard her knuckles turn white. “Do you think you deserve to know that?” Saria doesn’t respond; Silence’s gaze doesn’t flinch. “Because I don’t.”

With that, she leaves the room without sparing the vouivre a single glance, slamming the door shut behind her.

Saria had always been like fire: bright, and loud, searing, and dangerous. Silence never liked the warmth.

“Mm, Saria.” Silence moaned into the woman’s mouth, letting her hands rest against the sides of her head, as her thighs straddled her hips.

Saria’s hand found Silence’s cheek, her palm so rough, her fingers callused, and she trapped Silence’s chin between her thumb and index finger. She spread apart her lips, letting her tongue explore her mouth, and reveling in the sigh her little bird let out. 

“Fuck, baby,” Saria whispered against her lips, disconnecting only briefly before colliding them together again.

She dragged her free hand downwards, skirting across the bare skin of Silence’s back, and letting the tips of her fingers dive beneath the edge of her panties, before squeezing her ass. It made Silence yelp, the sound swallowed by Saria’s mouth, and she rocked her hips, grinding down hard against Saria’s abs. Saria let the hand she had on Silence’s ass slip away, rising into the air, before coming back down just hard enough to leave a mark

“Oh my god, daddy,” Silence moaned, rocking forward, and resting her head against Saria’s neck.

Saria did it again, letting her open palm strike the exact same spot, and it made Silence moan, open mouthed and wet against Saria’s pulse point. She did it again, and again, and with each one she could feel Silence’s panties get wetter, could feel the length they hid straining to escape. 

So she let it out, pulling down the waistband of Silence’s panties, and letting her cock fall against her abs. She pressed her thumb against the tip, smearing precum against it, and Silence gasped.

“Oh, fuck,” She said through a sigh, rolling her hips into even the smallest of touches.

“Is this what you want, baby girl?”

Silence closed her eyes, and nodded intensely. “God, yes.”

Saria pulled Silence out from her spot against her shoulder, and pressed her lips to the woman’s neck, sucking marks where she knew they could be seen. “Good girl,” She praised, and Silence whimpered in response.

Her whimpers turned to whines, as Saria wrapped her hand around her shaft, squeezing ever so gently, and letting precum coat her palm. Those same whines turned into broken moans, when the larger woman rubbed her hand up and down agonizingly slowly. Silence rocked her hips uncontrollably, searching for more, and more, until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Faster,” She whined, leaning her forehead against Saria’s.

“Ask nicely,” was all Saria responded with.

“Please go faster, daddy,” Silence panted, begging. “Please, please.”

Saria jerked her hand upwards, and then back down. “You’re always a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck- fuck, fuck.” 

Silence babbled incoherently, as Saria worked her ever higher, pumping her wrist with intent. She moaned, drool falling down her chin, and she could feel her thighs clenching around Saria’s hips. Saria’s hand felt so good around her cock, the palm of her other hand so firm against her ass, and it didn’t take long before she felt her peak approaching.

“Oh my god- Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” She moaned, words slurred. “I can’t- I can’t-”

“Let it all out for me, baby.”

Her whole body tensed, and her mouth hung open in silence, as she came. She shook, eyes screwed shut, as the smallest amount of her almost clear, thin release poured from her cock, followed closely by a viscous, white fluid that circled under the tip. Saria circled her thumb over it, collecting it on her finger, and it made Silence yelp, another thin burst pouring out from her. She licked it off her thumb, and stared up at Silence through half lidded eyes.

“God, I love when you do that.”

Silence didn’t respond. Her eyes were still shut, and she panted, trying to compose herself.

Saria wiped off her stomach with a finger, licking it off, before wiping her saliva on the sheets. She let her hands rest on Silence’s waist, fingers curling into her hips, and she couldn’t do anything other than smile. “Hey, Livy?”

Silence opened her eyes, throwing Saria a lighthearted glare. “I hate that nickname.”

“No you don’t,” Saria replied with an easy smile. “You love it, just like I love you.”

Silence pressed their lips together, then, warm and calm, patient and passionate. She disconnected, and, when she spoke, her breath was hot against Saria’s mouth. “You’re maddening.” She paused, and her lips tugged upwards into a smile, dimpling her cheeks. “I love you too, Saria.”

It’s warm.

Saria swirls her drink, watching the amber liquid lean left, and then right, and listening to the ice cubes knock against the glass, before downing the rest of it in one gulp. She doesn’t flinch at the burning sensation in her chest; she’s been used to it for a long time.

“She definitely still hates me,” She says aloud, to no one in particular, but there’s only one other person in the otherwise empty bar with her.

“No she doesn’t,” Kal’tsit replies, before taking a long sip of a clear, bubbly drink that Saria can tell is way too strong to be having at four in the afternoon.

“Please,” and Saria rolls her eyes. “You didn’t see the look on her face when she saw me, Kal. That’s the most we’ve spoken in nearly two years, and she spent more than half of it shouting at me.”

“She just needs time,” Kal’tsit wears a lopsided smile, an unusual sight on the woman. 

“I- Did you not hear the part where I said it’s been two years?”

Kal’tsit waves a hand at Saria dismissively. “Like I said, time.”

“You’re an idiot when you’re drunk, Kal.” Saria stands up, and pours herself another glass, as she speaks. 

“I’m not-” Kal’tsit stops in the middle of her sentence, and her eyes widen. “Drunk.”

Saria takes another sip of her drink, closing her eyes, as the liquid travels down her throat. “Sure.”

“Listen,” and Kal’tsit’s head rests against her forearm on the bar. “She just needs to know you care, right? That’s what it always is.”

Saria knocks back the rest of her drink, before standing up. “Well, this has been a great waste of my time. Thank you very much, Kal’tsit, but I’m gonna go have a cigarette, and then make my final rounds for the night.”

“You’re so mean,” Kal’tsit says in answer. “No wonder she doesn’t like you.”

Saria’s expression darkens, and she forces herself to walk away before she can say something she might regret, or that would get her fired. 

She makes her way to a balcony, one that’s fairly secluded, but still accessible from the hallway, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out from inside of her coat. She lights one, lifting it to her lips, and inhaling, but, when she looks up, she stumbles, and has to cough.

Ptilopsis is standing alone, leaning against the railing, and staring at the sky. She’s dressed as she normally is, swapping the lab coat for a windbreaker, but she looks almost forlorn, Saria thinks. And it hurts because she doesn’t know why, but also because she knows it’s no longer her business, even if they used to be what Saria would consider friends.

She turns around when she hears Saria cough, and her expression morphs into one of neutrality—or as close as it could get. “Saria,” She says, nodding.

“Doctor Ptilopsis,” and Saria does the same. After a moment, however, a moment of fierce internal debate, she lets the alcohol get the better of her, and tries to ask about it. “Are you ok-”

“I was just leaving.” Ptilopsis cuts her off quickly.

“Right.” Saria takes a drag from her cigarette. “Say hi to Ifrit for me, would you?”

“You should say it yourself,” and Ptilopsis leaves without waiting for a response.

Saria stands stock still for a moment. Shortly, she takes another drag, and blows smoke towards the sky, as she sits down on a bench, letting her head rest against the cold, circular handrail.

“Fuck.”

She doesn’t hate Silence, not in the way she knows the temperamental bird hates her. She can’t blame her for it, either, not after what happened to her and Ifrit, and especially not after Saria hadn’t even put up a fight when Silence had served the papers, and told her never to speak to her daughter again. Sometimes, she kind of wishes she had, but she doubts that it would’ve done her much good. Silence was right; the girl is probably better off without her.

She doesn’t hate Silence. She loves her, even still, even after everything they’ve been through. She loves Ifrit, too; she misses the little family they had put together. It was unlike anything she had ever dreamed for herself, but it had felt perfect in a way she couldn’t describe.

She doesn’t hate Silence. She just wishes she could talk to her, without the red-faced screaming, and the vitriol, without the burden of the past weighing on their shoulders. What would she say, though? For as long as she’s had to think about it, she still doesn’t know.

Her lips burn when her cigarette reaches the filter, and she flicks it into a nearby trash can. She stands up, sighing as her knees crack, and her back pops, and she shakes her head. She doesn’t have time to wallow anymore.

“Just like that, baby, fuck.”

Silence responded with a satisfied hum, one that reverberated through Saria’s cunt, as she rocked her hips against the woman’s mouth. It made her tighten the hand she had in her hair, fingers ruffling a bundle of feathers, and pressing her closer, as she chased her high.

She felt Silence’s lips close around her clit. She felt her tongue draw sharp circles over it, as two fingers were pushed inside of her. She moaned, loud, and heady, a sound that started in her throat, and filled the walls of the room. She bucked her hips with reckless abandon, grinding down against the woman, pushing her fingers ever deeper, and Silence could do little more than let her have her however she wanted.

“Fuck, baby girl, I’m so close,” She said, breathy, almost like a pant. 

She could tell it made Silence redouble her efforts. She was certain her jaw must hurt, so sure her wrist must be getting tired, but she drove her ever higher, hitting all the right spots, just like she always did. Saria did her best not to close her legs too hard around the woman’s head; she could feel her toes curling, and her muscles tensing, however.

She came with a strangled moan that she could barely hear, too overwhelmed by sensations to feel anything beyond the fire coursing through her veins. Silence rode her through it gently, always the attentive lover, letting slick coat her face, and trickle down her forearm. Eventually, Silence slowed to a halt, and removed herself, and, when Saria got a good look at her, she thought the woman had never been more attractive than she was in that moment.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Saria said, cupping Silence’s cheek with her palm, and letting her thumb dance around her still wet chin, spreading open her lips. “On your knees for me, working so hard, just to make a mess of yourself.”

Silence wiped her face with the back of her hand, and let her head rest against Saria’s thigh, the most playful of pouts forming on her lips. “Hmph,” She huffed. “Are you saying I’m not normally pretty?” 

“Of course you are,” Saria replied, smiling. “You’re always beautiful, Olivia, but like this, when it’s only for me, and no one else gets to see how stunning you are?” Saria let her hand run through Silence’s hair, and tilted her head back. “You’re divine.”

Silence closed her eyes, and Saria could see the shaky inhales she took, could feel the reverberations of her soft groans against her thigh.

She lifted Silence into her lap, then, letting the smaller woman wrap her legs around her waist, and she turned over, pressing her into the mattress. “You’re perfect, to me,” She told her, strong hands bracketing her head.

“Saria.” Silence said it almost like a prayer, quiet, and reverent, but, oh, so needy. 

She could feel Silence grinding against her, rocking her hips, desperately searching for some kind of friction. Saria let herself drop closer, and she pressed her lips to Silence’s neck, kissing up and down, everywhere she could. 

“Daddy,” Silence breathed out, shaky, half moaning the word. “Daddy, please.”

Saria sucked a mark just above the base of her neck, and pulled back. “What do you need, baby?”

“Just you,” Silence replied, wrapping her arms around the back of Saria’s neck. “Please, any way you want me.”

Saria trailed her lips downward, mouthing over the exposed flesh of Silence’s breast. “Of course.”

It’s cold.

The air conditioning of her office is cranked as low as it’ll go, far outmatching the heat radiating from her computer. Her coffee is still warm, but the mug, too, is cold to the touch, like icicles forming on your fingers.

Silence loves the cold.

She loves the way it places a calming blanket on nearly everything, slowing things down, making them easier to-

“Doctor Silence?”

Ptilopsis is knocking at her door.

“What is it, Joyce?” She responds, and the woman cracks the door open, and steps inside.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Ptilopsis tells her, and it makes Silence confused.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I heard you talked with Saria.”

Silence chuckles, a small, bitter thing. “Yeah,” She says, sighing. 

“And?” Ptilopsis looks like she expects something.

Silence takes off her reading glasses, and sets them on her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “It wasn’t so much ‘talking with,’ as it was screaming at, if I’m being honest.”

Ptilopsis seems disappointed. “Olivia.”

“Don’t take her side,” Silence says. “You can’t blame me for getting upset.”

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m fine,” Silence replies effortlessly.

Ptilopsis only narrows her eyes at her.

“I’m fine, Joyce,” and she seems more insistent this time, but somehow much less persuasive.

Ptilopsis doesn’t move; she simply stares at her.

Silence can’t take it. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?” She states, standing up from her desk, and walking around to the front of it. “All I did was get ambushed by my ex-wife, the woman who was supposed to be like a father to my adopted daughter, but ended up trying to turn her into a weapon, and get her killed. ” She speaks fast, much too fast to be considered calm, and then pauses. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t be anything but peachy.”

“She told me to say hi to Ifrit for her.”

The pencil Silence had been fidgeting with snaps between her fingers. “I’m sure she did.”

“I told her to say it to her herself.”

Silence slams the broken pencil down on her desk. “Joyce-” She starts, but Ptilopsis cuts her off.

“It’s not healthy for her to grow up with just one parent.”

“It’s a lot better than having one that sees her like a disposable test subject! She’s a person, Joyce; she’s my fucking daughter.”

“Be rational,” Ptilopsis tells her in response. “She was the first one of us who cared about her; you know that’s not how she felt.”

“Then why?” and Silence couldn’t feel more pathetic in this moment if she tried. “I’ve spent so long trying to make excuses for her, but every single time I’ve come up empty handed. What was it, Joyce?”

“Have you tried asking her?”

Silence feels tears like pinpricks in the sides of her eyes. “Of course not. How could I?”

Ptilopsis takes one of Silence’s hands in her own, holding it up, and squeezing. “You could try letting her talk, for once, without the screaming.”

Despite herself, Silence manages a chuckle. “Have you met me before?”

“I have.” Ptilopsis lets her hand go. “You didn’t used to shout so much.”

Silence takes a deep breath in, and then blows out, and it’s shaky both ways; it rattles in her chest. “Saria said something similar, actually.”

Silently, Ptilopsis walks towards Silence’s desk. She picks up the pencil the woman had broken, holding both pieces in one hand, and grabs a small roll of masking tape. Carefully, she holds the two pieces together, and, with the precision of a surgeon, she uses the making tape to make sure they stay that way.

Once done, she turns around, and she hands the pencil back to Silence. “Not everything that’s been broken can be fixed,” She tells her, “but some things can. You just have to be willing to try.”

Silence squeezes her hand into a fist, gripping the pencil as tight as she can, before letting it roll back onto her desk. “But what if I don’t want to?”

Ptilopsis only smiles in return. “You do.”

“I don’t know,” Silence admits, little more than a whisper. “I don’t know. It’s been so long, Joyce.”

It’s quiet, for a moment. Silence is thankful the room is still as cold as it was earlier.

“I should-” She stumbles over her words. “I should go check on Ifrit. She stayed home sick today.”

Ptilopsis takes a step back, and nods. “Of course. Stay safe, Olivia.”

Silence exits the room without another word. Funnily enough, the one thing she craves, as she walks through the halls of Rhodes Island, is a cigarette, a smoky, ashy little stick, that tastes like a campfire in her mouth. She knows they do more harm than good, but she can’t help feeling nostalgic for the comfort that it brings.

The only time she’d ever had one was when she was with Saria.

It doesn’t take long for her to reach where she and Ifrit lived. She unlocks the door, dropping her keys on the counter, and stepping out of her shoes. She hears a clatter, however, and she grows confused.

“Ifrit?” She calls, and, much to her surprise, a tangled mess of blonde hair and horns pop out from around the corner.

“You’re home early,” Ifrit states plainly, failing to completely mask her confusion.

Silence narrows her eyes. “Come here,” She says, and, once the girl does, she presses the back of her hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up, sweetie; why aren’t you laying down anymore?”

“I don’t know. I just-” She shrinks under Silence’s unamused gaze. “Sorry, mom.”

Silence turns her around, and pats her on the shoulder. “It’s fine. Go lay down, and I’ll heat you up some soup, okay?”

Ifrit does as she’s told, marching off and flopping down on the couch, while Silence heads for the kitchen. She heats up a container of leftovers from earlier in the day, and brings it, along with a bottle of water, into the living room. 

“Here,” She says, setting them both on the coffee table. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than this morning, I guess,” Ifrit says with a shrug.

“That’s good to hear, sweetie. Make sure you drink some water; I’ll be in my office, if you need me, okay?”

“Okay,” and Ifrit closes her eyes.

Silence places a kiss to her fingertips, then presses her fingers to Ifrit’s forehead, before walking off. She finds her way to the spare bedroom she had turned into an office, and sits down at a desk much smaller than what she had in her actual office.

It’s hard to get any work done. The conversation she had with Ptilopsis rattles in her brain, making it impossible to focus. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

An hour passes unnoticed, however. Another hour slides by just as quickly, and Silence hasn’t heard a peep out of Ifrit, which she deems at least a little worrying. So, she gets up, stretches, and makes her way back to the living room.

Thankfully, all she finds there is Ifrit, asleep on the couch, having emptied both the water bottle and the container of soup. She can’t help but smile at the sight, and, for a moment, she forgets all about Saria, and what Ptilopsis had said to her.

“Mm, mom?” Ifrit mumbles, likely still mostly asleep, and it turns out her clarity of mind wouldn’t last very long.

She paces over to the couch, and sits on the floor in front of it. “What is it, sweetie?”

Ifrit doesn’t respond, which is expected. After a moment, however, she turns from her back to her side, and another series of sleep induced words leave her lips. “When is dad coming back?”

Silence has to will her heart not to break, even if it’s a question the girl hadn’t asked her in a very, very long time. She reaches up, and cups Ifrit’s hand in her own, letting her forehead fall against the side of the couch cushion.

“I don’t know, baby,” and it feels warm, too warm.

Maybe she’s getting sick. Either way, she doesn’t like it.

Silence was sweating, breathing heavily, as she listened to the air conditioner rattle. She smiled. One of Saria’s great, big arms was around her, her head lying against it, and she was happy, the happiest she’d been in a long time. She was content to simply relish in the dull afterglow, content to watch Saria’s chest rise and fall, and her throat bob every time she swallowed.

“Hey, Livy?” 

With the way Saria spoke, Silence knew there was something on her mind.

“Mm, what’s up?” She replied, turning on her side, and nestling into her shoulder.

Saria was silent for a moment. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course I know,” and Silence traced lazy circles over Saria’s abs with one of her fingers. “I love you too.”

Saria turned onto her side, then, gracefully leaving her arm for Silence to lay on, but bringing her free hand to the woman’s face, palm resting on her cheek. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

Silence’s eyes widened microscopically, and she could feel her heart flutter, but she kept her voice level when she replied. “Is this your way of asking me to marry you, Saria?” 

“No, no, it’s just-” Saria paused, and pursed her lips, looking much too deep in thought. “It’s never something I really thought about before, you know?”

Silence scooted just an inch closer to her. “And have you been thinking about it now?”

“I don’t know,” Saria stated simply. “I didn’t think it was something I’d want for myself, especially when I was a kid.”

Saria paused—to think, Silence assumed—and Silence let her head fall against the top of Saria’s chest, just underneath her collarbones.

“Now, though, I don’t know. I’ve been doing a lot of things with you that I never thought I’d get the chance to, or that I never would’ve wanted to bother with. You’re good for me, Livy. You feel like home, and I-” She paused again; Silence nodded into her chest, doing her best not to sniffle. “Nowadays, I think I’d want to, if it was with you.”

Silence couldn’t help but tear up, then, the wetness from her eyes falling against the skin of Saria’s chest, and she couldn’t fight back her sniffles. Silence couldn’t see it, but it made Saria widen her eyes, and pull the woman closer to her.

“Did I- Fuck, did I say something wrong?” She exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry, Livy. I’ve never really been any good at this romance stuff; I just felt like- I don’t know, I wanted to-”

Silence cut off her rambles with a kiss, looking up at her, and pressing their lips together in an outpouring of love. “Stop talking,” She whispered against Saria’s chin, and the larger woman simply nodded, stunned. “Of course I wanna marry you, you big, stupid oaf. Have I not been obvious enough?”

Saria didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she broke into what was possibly the stupidest grin of her life; she couldn’t help it. She kissed Silence, then, wrapping a hand around her leg, and turning into her back, pulling the woman on top of her.

“How about this, then?” She started, as her open palms held the woman she loved steady above her, fingers sinking into the flesh of her hips. “Doctor Olivia Silence, owner of one of the greatest minds of our time, co-parent of the girl who might as well be my daughter, and without a doubt the most beautiful woman to have ever lived, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Silence proclaimed, kissing Saria through the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Yes,” She whispered, kissing her again. “Yes,” and again. “A million times yes; nothing would make me happier.”

Saria kissed her back, then, letting her hands trail upwards from her hips, and to her cheeks. She wiped away her tears, and pressed their lips together with a passion, and a devotion, and all the feelings she thought she’d never get to feel.

She seemed bashful, after a moment, though. “I don’t, exactly, uh, have a ring,” She said quietly, but it only made Silence laugh.

“We can get a pair, don’t worry,” She replied easily, voice practically vibrating with her happiness. “They’re not cheap, though, I’ll have you know.”

Saria just smiled. “Anything for you, my love; the price doesn’t matter to me.”

Silence felt a warmth blossom in her chest, just as she had so many times before. It was calm, and patient, passionate, and sincere.

Silence had always liked the warmth.

Saria can taste the distinct tang of copper in her mouth. She must’ve accidentally bitten her lip, or perhaps it’s simply cracked from the nonstop heaters she has to use to fight off the cold of winter. Either way, it’s there, so she turns her head, spits, and wipes her mouth with her forearm to remove any blood still lingering there, before continuing.

She ducks to the left, and then the right, before throwing a series of punches at the weighted bag hanging in front of her, ones that make it rock, and spin. She does it again, and again, not bothering to wipe away that sweat that threatens to fall into her eyes. She clenches her jaw, feels her legs tense, and lands another series of blows, much stronger than the last few.

Sand pours out from a hole she struck into the bag, and she takes it as her sign to be done for the day.

She slips her flip-flops back on, and throws a towel over her shoulders, before exiting through the automatic sliding door of the gym. From a vending machine nearby, she gets herself a water, just shy of ice cold, and presses it to her forehead. After a moment, she twists open the lid, and takes a sip, but she nearly spits it out when she finally turns around.

Silence is staring right at her.

There’s a laptop, and a stack of papers on the table a few feet behind her, but, strangely enough, she’s not at the table. She’s standing right in front of the long, spotless window that peers into the gym, with a very convenient view of the now replaced punching bag she had been using.

“Olivia!” She says, surprised. 

“It’s Silence,” is all the woman offers in return.

“Right,” but Saria can see her eyes lingering on her stomach, her abs glistening with sweat, left uncovered between her athletic shorts and her sports bra. “Surely you didn’t come here just to stare at me, right?”

Silence shakes her head, and then rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You do that enough for the both of us, I think,” Saria replies, an uncharacteristic smirk spreading across her face.

“Whatever,” and Silence stomps over to the table behind her. “Here,” She says, picking up a manila folder, and sticking it out for Saria to take.

“And this is…” Saria trails off, grabbing the folder, and flipping it open.

“Follow up reports on the earliest patients to receive chimeric surgery,” Silence explains, sitting down at her laptop. “It seems some of the original shards used are starting to go bad, likely due to implantation methods, but, with the knowledge we have now, it should be an easy fix. You asked about it a while ago; I figured you’d wanna know.”

“Wow,” Saria says in response, closing the folder. “You work just as fast as I remember. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Silence is already focused back on her laptop, typing something rather quickly. 

After a beat, Saria decides to try her luck. “Do you normally do your work sitting in the gym hallway?”

Silence lets out a deep exhale, and doesn’t even look up. “I think we’re done here, Saria.”

“Just-” Saria bites her lip. “Can we talk?”

That makes Silence finally look up, but her brow is furrowed. “Now you wanna talk?”

“Olivia-”

“Silence.”

“Whatever! I’ve always wanted to talk. You just never wanted to listen.”

“So now it’s my fault?” Saria can tell that Silence is already getting mad.

“I never said that.”

“Can you blame me for not wanting to listen to whatever bullshit you have to say?”

“No, I can’t,” Saria admits, voice low, and heavy. 

“Then why do you insist on-”

The door slides open behind them, and the nameless intruder throws them a glance before walking to the vending machine.

“Please,” Saria nearly whispers, and it makes Silence rub the bridge of her nose.

“Fine,” She says, closing her laptop, and gathering her things. “I assume you know where Ifrit and I live; put some fucking clothes on first.”

With that, without another word, or a single glance back, Silence stalks off, and Saria’s eyes don’t leave her back until she turns the corner, and is out of sight.

Saria goes the opposite direction, towards the locker rooms. She strips herself bare, removing shorts, and boxers, and bra, letting her hair fall down from the ponytail she had put it in, and, slowly, she steps into the shower.

The water’s cold. It reminds her of Silence.

What is she supposed to say? She still doesn’t know, if she’s being honest with herself. She just knows she needs to say something. Something needs to change. She can’t live like this anymore; she’s let too much time slip through her fingers. Not that she had a choice, but it wasn’t like she put up much of a fight anyway.

Slowly, she rubs shampoo into her scalp, tilting her head back and letting it rinse away. She scrubs herself with an orange bar of soap, letting that, too, travel down her, and through the drain. She can see the goosebumps on her legs and arms when she turns the water off, but, when she steps out of the showers, she feels new, refreshed. 

She still doesn’t know what to say, though.

She tries to think of something, as she slips into a comfortable pair of jeans, and a loose, black tee shirt. She throws on a jacket—by chance, it happened to be one that Silence had given her for her birthday years ago—and she sets off, leaving the locker rooms, and the gym behind. 

It doesn’t take long for her to reach her destination. She takes a deep breath, and then, without waiting a single moment longer, she knocks.

“Fuck- Fuck-” Silence panted out, as quiet as she could keep herself, gripping tightly the sheets underneath her. “Oh my god- I’m gonna cum. Oh, fuck.”

Her hand was in Saria’s hair, pushing her bangs out of the way, as the woman’s lips bobbed up and down her dick. Saria went faster, and faster, suctioning her cheeks, and wrapping her arm around the underside of Silence’s thigh. After a moment, however, right before Silence felt her pleasure crest, she stopped, letting go with a pop, and a smirk.

Silence let out a deep breath. “Can you not-” She panted, “do the whole edging thing, this early in the fucking morning?”

Saria pressed her lips to the inside of Silence’s thigh. “I’m sorry, baby; I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

“Sorry, my ass,” Silence retorted. “Can you make it quick for real this time? I need to wake up Ifrit soon.”

“Hm,” Saria hummed in fake contemplation. “Maybe if you ask nicely,” and Saria let her tongue drag over Silence’s balls, making the woman suck in a sharp gasp.

“Please, daddy,” Silence practically begged. “I wanna cum for you so bad.”

Saria dug her nails into Silence’s thigh, and ran her tongue up the underside of her shaft, from base all the way to the tip. “Now who taught you to talk like that, baby girl?” She teased.

Silence shivered, but, after a moment, she smiled. “Mostly you, I think.”

“Mostly?” Saria asked, looking up at her, and playfully raising an eyebrow.

Silence used the hand she had in Saria’s hair to wipe her expression away, and divert her gaze. “What happened to making this fast?”

Saria pressed her lips to the tip of Silence’s shaft, lapping at the overflowing precum, and smirking. “I suppose you did ask nicely, didn’t you?”

Whatever retort Silence had come up with died in her throat, as Saria’s mouth enveloped her cock. It was so warm, her tongue so soft against her length, as her lips pressed further down. Down, and down she went, until she met the base of Silence’s crotch, and all the woman could do was suck in a choked gasp.

Saria set a fast pace for herself, making it obvious she was done with the teasing, and she could tell Silence loved every bit of it. She whimpered, with each bob up and down, moaned, when Saria dug her nails into her thighs. She could tell the woman was getting close, her breathing quickening, her moans becoming louder, and it showed, too, in the way her hands shifted to Saria’s horns, holding on for dear life. Saria threw her leg over her shoulder, and Silence’s calf and thigh tensed, pushing Saria’s chest into the mattress.

“Oh my god,” She choked out, moaning, and screwing her eyes shut. “Daddy, please. Please don’t stop, oh fuck.”

She came with a cry, shot after shot working its way down Saria’s throat, as she arched her back, and pressed her hand over her mouth. Her leg shook; her breath caught in her throat. Saria loved having her like this, getting to watch her wife come undone, to see her whimper, and beg. Eventually, when Saria finally removed herself, Silence’s hips couldn’t help but to twitch, and it made Saria smirk.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and crawled upwards, pressing her palms against the back of Silence’s thighs. “Still feel like getting out of bed?” She asked, teasing.

Silence only groaned in response. “Saria.”

“Mm, what is it, baby girl?” Saria asked, low, and husky, right before she pressed her lips to Silence’s neck.

“Ah-” She moaned, before opening her eyes wide, and playfully swatting at Saria’s head. “We have to get up, stop.”

Saria sat back, then, and did her best imitation of a playful pout. “At least give me a kiss, then.”

Silence sat up, and scooted closer to Saria, letting her ankles lock behind her back. “Of course,” She said, and she smiled into it, pressing their lips together, and humming in satisfaction.

Saria’s hands found her cheeks, then, and her thumbs brushed over her face almost reverently. “I still can’t believe I get to wake up next to you every morning.”

“I couldn’t be happier about it,” Silence said in response, pressing another light kiss to her wife’s lips. 

“I love you, Livy.”

Silence’s smile only grew wider. “I love you, too.” Then, she let her legs fall from around the woman, and slid back slightly, legs hanging off the side of the bed. “We do have to get up, though, I think.” She pressed her lips to Saria’s cheek. “Do you mind starting breakfast? I’m gonna wake up Ifrit.”

“Of course, baby.”

They got dressed quickly, Saria’s outfit being the more troublesome of the two, but, before they exited the bedroom, Silence leaned back against the door, making Saria raise her eyebrow at her. Silence made grabby hands at her, and Saria smiled, stepping closer, and letting her hands find the smaller woman’s hips. She pressed their lips together, passionate, and loving, holding her as close as she could, and, when they broke away, Saria couldn’t help but smile.

“You give me so many mixed signals sometimes,” She said jokingly.

Silence rolled her eyes, and shot her a playful glare, before opening the door. “Just go.”

“Love you, too,” Saria said in response, and then made her way towards the kitchen.

She set about making breakfast, as she listened to Silence try to wake up Ifrit. She preheated a pan with a little butter in it, pulled the eggs out of the fridge, along with a few vegetables.

Eventually, she heard something like a shout, and then a giggle, and she just had to laugh. She always loved Ifrit’s antics, especially the ones that bothered Silence. She loved her family, with everything she had, and so she was smiling, as she watched the two of them trudge into the kitchen.

She set down the carrot she had been peeling on the cutting board, and glanced towards Ifrit. “What are we thinking this morning, princess?” 

“Pancakes!” Ifrit responded, all too excited.

Silence groaned. “Can’t we try something healthier, maybe?”

“You heard the girl, Olivia,” Saria shot back, confident her smile was audible in her voice, as she pulled down a mixing bowl from the cupboard. “Pancakes it is.”

“I’ll take an egg, please and thank you.”

Saria laughed, then, and slid the now chopped carrot into a pan. “I know; I know. Don’t worry, momma.”

Saria finished making breakfast in relative silence, a joke shared between her and Ifrit every now and then breaking up the sleepy quiet of the room. She mixed up some pancakes, made the young girl a small stack, and slid it to her, before dumping the chopped carrot onto a plate, and starting on the eggs. 

It wasn’t long before the three of them were sat together, eating breakfast. It was peaceful, and it was calm, and it was so, so warm. Saria ran her thumb over her wedding band, and let her eyes linger on a family picture hanging on the wall. It wasn’t always what she imagined for herself, but she knew, in the very deepest parts of her heart, that she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Silence is in the kitchen, anxiously bouncing her leg, and sipping just enough white wine to take the edge off when she hears a knock on the door. It nearly makes her jump.

She knocks back what little she had left, takes a deep breath, and walks into the entryway of her home. She closes her eyes, and balls her hand into a fist, before letting her fingers curl open. She opens the door, and there, in front of her, stands Saria.

She doesn’t say a word.

The taller woman peers around her, peeking into her home, and, exhaling through her nose, she steps back, and lets her enter.

“Hey,” She hears Saria say, as she turns around to lock the door.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she makes her gaze as fierce as she can, and levels it at the woman.

Saria glances around her, obviously feeling out of place. “How’s Ifrit?”

“Get to the point, Saria.”

“What do you want me to say, Olivia?”

“It’s Silence.” Silence clenches her jaw. “And you’re the one who wanted to talk, so talk.”

Saria bites her lip, and steps forward, raising her hand to Silence’s arm. “I just- I miss you, Olivia. I miss Ifrit, and-”

Silence immediately swats it away. “If that’s what this is about, then you can leave right now.”

“Olivia-”

“Silence.”

“Whatever!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to kill her!” She knows she told Ptilopsis she’d try not to yell, but she just can’t stop herself.

“I wasn’t going to kill her.”

“I saw you point a knife to her throat! Bullshit ‘you weren’t going to kill her!’”

“I was never going to.” Silence can see Saria’s hands shaking. “The reason I told you back then that I didn’t like to think about what would happen was because I knew I’d never have it in me.”

“Then what the fuck happened, Saria?”

“That was my daughter, Olivia! If I wasn’t the one to step in, someone else would’ve, and we both know it would’ve ended differently!”

“So you just casually agreed to turn your daughter into a weapon?” Silence’s voice was cold, and biting, her scream slipping away, but remaining just as fierce. “Were you lying when you said you wanted to be better than your father, then?”

“Don’t you fucking-”

“Then what, Saria?! What the fuck was it?! You’ve spent four years running away, and now you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you.” That makes Silence’s gaze break. “I just didn’t know if I should.”

“I’ve spent years making excuses for you, Saria.” She can tell a tear is starting to roll down her cheek, but she chooses to ignore it. “Do you have any idea how fucking hard that is? So much time spent trying to figure out why, and all the while my daughter still idolizes the woman who nearly killed her, who treated her like a fucking test subject.”

“Olivia-”

“Did you know she still idolizes you? She’s a smart kid, so she doesn’t really mention you much around me anymore, but I know she wants to be just like you, and what the fuck can I say to persuade her not to be? I can’t come up with anything, Saria.” Tears stream down her face, now, unbidden, and she can no longer ignore them. “I want it to be okay, but nothing I come up with can make it that way.”

Saria takes a step closer, and lets her palm find Silence’s cheek, thumb brushing away the tears. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard; I never wanted to leave, to put you two through that.”

“Then why?” Silence pathetically pounds a fist on Saria’s chest. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

Saria’s voice is nearly a whisper when she responds. “You were right to hate me, to be mad at me, and not want Ifrit to ever see me again. I thought it’d be better, if I wasn’t around.”

“That’s not an answer, Saria!” Silence’s head falls, finding a spot against Saria’s shoulder, as sobs tear through her body. “Give me a fucking answer! Why?”

“The papers I signed off on, approving Project Diabolic, were misleading; I didn’t know what they were for.”

Silence steps back, and brushes away Saria’s hand from her face. “Excuse me?”

“Do you remember when I stopped showing up to her treatment?” Silence nods. “I tried to shut the project down, and Kirsten wouldn’t let me get too close to her anymore. There wasn’t anything I could do. After the eruption, I could see the pain in her face, and I just- I fought with Kirsten in her office, and that’s when I left Rhine Labs. I never wanted to hurt either of you.”

Silence wipes the tears from her face with the back of her hand, and sets her jaw. “And it took you nearly five years to say that?”

“Olivia-” Saria tries to close the gap between them, raising her hand back to Silence’s face, but the smaller woman quickly swats it away.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.” So many emotions swirl in Silence’s face that, to Saria, it’s completely unreadable beyond the blood red eyes,

“I didn’t want to put you in danger, either of you. That’s always been at the front of my mind.”

“Are you kidding me?” This time, it’s Silence who closes the gap, angrily pressing a finger against the top of Saria’s chest. “After all this time, that’s your big revelation?”

Saria doesn’t even try to pull it away. “You were right to be upset with me. I’m sure there was more I could’ve done, and I-”

Saria’s words are cut off by a palm hitting her cheek. It doesn’t hurt, but, regardless, she lets it turn her face, and quiet her voice.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Saria,” Silence says, quiet, and intense, cutting through the tense air like a knife. “I’ve spent so long trying to hate you, to make excuses for you, to not break down anytime Ifrit asks about you, and it’s this?”  

“Olivia-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Silence is shaking, anger, and sadness, and longing, and so much more coursing through her veins like an unrivaled stimulant. “You’re telling me it was for nothing?”

“I wanted to keep you both safe.”

“Grow up. That’s not a fucking reason.” Silence rubs her palms on her shorts, shaking them out. “So many years of loneliness, for me and Ifrit, and it was for nothing?”

Saria can’t meet her gaze. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Did you know I haven’t been with a single person since then? None of them are good enough for Ifrit, and I- I keep comparing them to you.” Silence lifts her head, then, and, when Saria finally looks back at her, she can see her tears starting to come back, welling in the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. “Because you were perfect, Saria. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Without saying a word, Saria lifts her hand to Silence’s cheek. Her thumbs brush just under her eyes, and the tips of her fingers find their way into her hair. Silence can’t help but hold her breath, can’t stop herself from looking up at her with the saddest version of longing hidden behind her eyes. She still can’t tell what Saria’s thinking.

Before she realizes it, lips are pressed against hers, and it takes her breath away.

Her eyes widen, before closing shut, and she finds herself being walked backwards, until she’s pressed flat against the wall. Saria’s index finger and thumb find their way to her chin, and she spreads open her lips exactly the same way she used to, pressing her tongue into her mouth with the same reckless abandon, too. She tastes like smoke, and, to Silence, it’s intoxicating.

“Ah, Saria-” She sighs out, the sounds drowned out in Saria’s own mouth, as the larger woman lifts one of her legs off of the ground. She jumps, locking her ankles behind Saria’s back, and her sigh turns into a moan when Saria sucks a mark into her neck, just above her collarbone. “Fuck, daddy.”

Saria pulls back, and Silence can tell her face is already flushed, her breathing is already heavy. “We could do something like that,” Saria says, seeming almost hesitant, despite the way her fingers sink into Silence’s thighs.

“Shut up,” Silence offers in answer, gasping for air. “You have forty-five minutes; that’s when Ifrit gets home.”

Saria carries her to bed, then, tossing the woman down onto it, and climbing on top of her. She quickly slides her hands under Silence’s turtleneck, pausing, before a nod tells her she’s free to push it upward. 

Silence shivers, as thumbs skirt up her stomach, and long, callused fingers snake over her ribs. She holds her breath when those hands reach her chest, and she arches into the touch when they squeeze at her breasts over her bra. Her arms wrap around Saria’s neck, and she whimpers, pulling the woman closer.

“Daddy, please,” She doesn’t mean to, but she practically begs, and, right as Saria’s lips meet hers once more, fingers dive beneath her bra, and roll over her nipples. “Oh, fuck,” She cries out, but the words are nearly lost in Saria’s mouth.

She tries to sit up, to mouth at Saria’s neck, but the larger woman simply pushes her back down, and ghosts her lips over her ear. “Let me take care of you, baby,” Saria whispers, and it makes Silence feel lightheaded all over again.

Quickly, her shirt and bra get removed, dumped off the side of the bed, and, this time, it’s Saria’s mouth that’s at her chest. Her tongue swipes down the valley between her breasts, her teeth nibble at the sensitive flesh of her somewhat small mounds, and, when lips finally wrap around her nipple, Silence can’t stop the moan she lets out, loud and heady.

Saria continues like that for an eternity, lavishing attention to her chest, and her neck, and, before she even moves on, Silence can’t think straight. It’s only made worse when the woman above her roams a hand downwards, palming at the crotch of her shorts, certainly able to feel Silence’s already achingly hard cock. Saria pulls down her shorts just enough to let her shaft spring free, and she languidly rubs her hand up and down it, almost agonizing in her slowness.

Silence’s hips buck, and she buries her face into Saria’s neck. “Daddy, please,” She begs. “I need you so bad.”

Saria lets her hand still, but she doesn’t remove it. “How do you need me, baby?”

“God, just fuck me,” is Silence’s immediate response. 

Silence watches, and Saria leans back, and rids herself of her shirt, and her bra, letting her hefty chest hang tantalizingly close to Silence’s face. She shimmies out of her pants, and leans over, not even needing to ask, as she opens the third drawer of Silence’s nightstand, digs past some clothes, and procures a rather familiar looking strap on.

“Is this what you want?” She asks, rubbing the silicone shaft against Silence’s own.

Silence screws her eyes shut, and nods furiously. “Lube- in the- top drawer,” She pants out.

When Saria stands up to step into the harness, unsurprisingly not having to do much adjusting, Silence takes the chance to kick off her shorts and her panties. She does her best to get comfortable, as she watches Saria rub a generous amount of lube on the bright purple dildo, and she holds her breath when the woman climbs back onto the bed.

“Relax,” Saria says, pressing a hand into the back of her thigh, and her lips to her neck. “I’ll make sure you feel good; you deserve it.”

Silence takes a deep breath, but she chokes on the air when Saria prods the tip of the dildo against her ass. She clutches at Saria’s back desperately, searching for purchase, as the woman above her slides in slowly, inch by inch. Her hands find Saria’s horns, as the woman bottoms out in her, and she can already feel toes curling, can see her vision going white.

“Ready?” Saria asks, trailing her hands down Silence’s sides until they landed at her hips, and clutched her tightly.

Silence only nods in response, whimpering.

Saria sets a somewhat delicate pace to start, but even that feels overwhelming to Silence. The push and pull, the stretch of her ass, the power in the hips that press against her—she can already feel precum falling thick onto her stomach. It isn’t nearly enough, though. This isn’t how Saria is supposed to treat her, not how they made love then, and it’s not how she wants to be fucked how. 

“Fuck, daddy, faster,” She says, whining when Saria’s pace stuttered.

Saria doesn’t respond with words, but it’s clear to Silence that she got the message. Her hips pull out, sliding back until just the tip is left inside, and then she slams her hips back in, bottoming out in one fluid motion. It nearly makes Silence scream.

After that, her pace is nothing short of brutal, hips pounding into Silence with a force that makes her moan with each thrust. The smaller woman is drooling, and whimpering, and holding onto Saria’s horns for dear life, and she can tell she won’t last long.

“Oh my god-” Silence starts, but her words die momentarily, as Saria doesn’t slow even a little. “Daddy, I’m cumming!” She eventually cries out, voice bobbing with each thrust, and her eyes in the back of her head.  “I’m cumming, I’m cumming- Oh, fuck!”

Thick, white lines cover Silence’s stomach, and she moans, as each shot is forced out of her by Saria’s unrelenting pace. It clings to the tip of her cock, strands connecting it to her abdomen, and she feels warmth all over, coursing through her body, and lighting up her senses. It’s warm, as Saria works the last bit of her release out of her. It’s warm, as she comes down from her high, and lands back in her own body. It’s warm, as the larger woman slides out of the harness, and wipes down her stomach.

And then it’s too warm.

It’s suffocating. Silence starts to sweat, though she’s unsure whether or not what coats the back of her neck is new or not. She sits up, and wipes it away, dabs at her forehead. She watches Saria sit back down on the edge of the bed, and she can’t stop herself from hyperventilating.

She shoots out of the bed, scrambling to get away from her. She puts her panties back on hurriedly, and rubs her temples to wipe away any new sweat that’s starting to fall.

Saria looks concerned. “Are you okay?” She asks, and Silence isn’t sure she has the words to convey just how not okay she is.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She slips her bra back on, and stuffs her head through her turtleneck. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Yeah.”

“Livy,” and Saria stands up, walking towards her, but Silence rapidly shakes her head, and makes her stop.

“Don’t call me that,” She says, fast, much too fast to not seem anxious and panicked.

“Olivia, what’s-”

“I think you should leave.” Silence scrapes the sides of her arms with her palms, turning them red in an attempt to wick away nonexistent sweat.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Olivia,” Saria is practically pleading. “I know it’s weird, and kind-of-new-but-not-really, and it’s hard, but we can talk, right? We can find a way to-”

“This was a mistake, Saria.”

Saria stops in the middle of her sentence. “Oh. I see.” She sounds defeated.

Silence steps into her shorts, and gestures to the door.

It doesn’t take long for Saria to put her clothes back on, pants, and shirt, throwing her jacket over her arm, and, in a flash, she’s standing in front of the door. She opens it wide, but she stops herself before she walks outside, stepping backwards, and turning to Silence.

“There’s not anything I can do that would-”

She’s cut off by the rapid pattering of footsteps.

“Dad!” Ifrit shouts, but she stops running when she sees Silence.

“Go to your room, Ifrit,” Silence tells her, and Ifrit seems confused. “We’ll be done in a second.”

“But-” Ifrit starts to protest, but Saria raises her hand, and she stops.

“It’s okay. Do what your mother says.”

Ifrit hangs her head, but she walks off without any further protest, slamming her door behind her.

Saria closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, before looking up at Silence. Her lip is shaking. “I’m sorry, Livy.”

With that, she walks off. Silence watches, as she steps outside, stuffs her arms into her coat, and doesn’t look back, and it hurts. Fuck, it hurts. Silence doesn’t know why, but it just feels-

That same warmth hasn’t left. 

She watches until Saria is completely out of sight, turning a corner, and disappearing from her view. Then, she closes the door, walks to the thermostat, and turns it down by two degrees.

And, once again, it’s cold.

Silence never thought she’d be here. Not once during the year since her departure from Rhine Labs did she ever expect to see Saria again, let alone seek her out. The liberi woman had recently made her home at Rhodes Island, however, and, well, here she was. Rhodes Island was surprisingly good for Ifrit, not only in her treatment, but in her growth, and development, too, so the last thing Silence was willing to do was leave. Even if that meant staring down her ex-wife in the face.

Well, soon to be ex-wife, anyway.

She was nervous, though. Who wouldn’t be, really? She paced up and down the hallway in front of Saria’s office, scratching at her cheeks, and wringing her wrists. She had to force herself not to hyperventilate, to stop her vision from going black.

Eventually, she stepped in front of the door, took a death breath, and she knocked, three sharp stabs against the metallic slab. 

“Come in.” Saria’s voice was quiet from behind the door, but it was just as gruff as Silence remembered.

Silence twisted the door handle, and, without any further hesitation, she pushed it open, stepping inside. 

Saria looked up at her, but her eyes opened wide when she noticed who it was that had entered her office. “Olivia!” She said, surprised, obviously more than a little thrown off.

“It’s Silence,” was all Silence gave in answer.

“Of course,” Saria replied, closing her eyes, and nodding slowly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Silence’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Saria’s almost husk-like, lack of a response only made her angrier.

She closed the door shut behind her, perhaps a touch more forceful than she meant to, and tossed a stack of papers onto Saria’s desk. “I assume you expected it, since you’re not wearing your ring anymore, but I need you to sign this to make it official.”

Slowly, Saria peeled off the top sheet, revealing the words ‘Petition For Divorce’ in bold font spread across the top of the second page. Her only reaction was a deep breath out through her nose. “Right,” She said, uncapping a pen that sat on her desk, and scribbling her signature onto the few spots that needed it. “Anything else?”

Silence watched, as her vision blurred. She balled her hand into a fist, clenching so hard her knuckles turned white, and clenched her jaw. She tried to take a breath, but it rattled in her chest, and left her more lighthearted than she had been before.

“I want to make one thing very clear, Saria,” She started, somehow keeping her voice level, but still unable to completely hide her fury. “Just because you’re here, doesn’t mean you and Ifrit are family again, do you understand?”

Saria took a deep breath in through her nose, and blew out through pursed lips that formed an ‘o’ shape. “Okay,” was all she replied with.

“Okay?” Silence could feel the vein in her temple pulse, could practically hear the thrum of her heart in her ears. “Is that all you have to fucking say for yourself?”

Saria looked up, then, finally, for the first time since Silence had set down the divorce papers, and she was surprised to see the faintest wetness clouding her eyes. “What else do you want me to say, Olivia?”

Silence could feel her blood boiling, begging to burst through her veins in angry streaks, and she wanted nothing more than to scream at the seemingly emotionless woman in front of her. She did her best not to, though; the walls at Rhodes Island were thin, after all. 

“The fucking nerve-” Silence cut herself off, and ran her hands through her hair, dragging her nails across her scalp. “You know what? Fuck you. I don’t want you to say anything else, Saria, just like I don’t want you to have anything else to do with my fucking daughter.” She swiped her hand angrily across Saria’s desk, quickly collecting the divorce papers, and stalking to the door. Before she left, however, she threw Saria one last glance, and whispered what was possibly the most devastating thing she had ever said. “I should’ve known you never loved us.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She opened the door, and slammed it shut behind her without another word, or glance back. She didn’t acknowledge the gentle tears that rolled down her cheeks, nor did she pay any mind to the pounding in her chest.

For the first time since she arrived at Rhodes Island, the hallway was warm, and it felt suffocating. 

It’s late. The sun has long since set, and the moon is the only light that accompanies that of the warm yellows from nearby fixtures.

Saria is sitting at a bar, head down, resting against it, with a cigarette between two of her fingers, and an almost empty glass of scotch sitting nearby. She didn’t know where to go after Silence told her to leave. She didn’t want to go back to her living quarters—there were too many reminders of her ex-wife and her daughter there—and her work was done for the day, so she found her way to the one place she probably shouldn’t have.

She sits up, and takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing the wispy, gray smoke towards a ceiling fan. “I think I blew it, Kal.”

Kal’tsit, sitting next to her, and sipping something bubbly, and clear, just shakes her head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Not this time,” Saria responds.

“I really think you’re worrying about all this too much,” Kal’tsit tells her, taking another sip. “I don’t think Olivia has it in her to hate you.”

“You weren’t there, Kal. You didn’t see how she acted, the way she looked at me.” 

Kal’tsit turns in her stool to face Saria, and orders the pair another set of drinks. “Then enlighten me.”

Saria doesn’t know why she does, but, as begrudging as it might be, she spins a tail for the woman. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, or perhaps it’s because Kal’tsit is the only person even remotely close to being Saria’s friend, but, either way, she tells her. She tells her of the fight, and the conversation. She tells her of how, after all these years, she finally spilled her secret. She tells her of the kiss, of how it felt to press her body against Silence’s again, and how good it felt to make her writhe underneath her. She tells her of the panic attack, too, and of being kicked out.

There’s so much pain in Saria’s voice, as she tells her story. She thought, for a moment, that this might be it. She thought, somehow, someway, they’d be able to put things back together, but, when Silence looked her in the eyes, and told her ‘this was a mistake,’ she shattered. She can’t force herself to think about anything else; she doesn’t have the willpower left to be able to.

“Holy shit,” is all Kal’tsit responds with, and, at this moment, both women are thankful the bar is otherwise empty.

Saria downs what’s left of her glass, and gets herself another. “Understand now?” She says simply, pressing what’s left of her cigarette into an ashtray.

“So,” Kal’tsit shakes her head, and sets down her glass, “let me get this straight. She let you fuck her, and you think this is a step backwards?”

Saria lets out a deep sigh. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“A month ago she couldn’t stand being in the same room with you, and now she’s letting you undress her.” Kal’tsit pauses, and shakes her head, trying to dispel some of alcohol induced fog in her brain. “I don’t know about you, but that seems like progress to me.”

“It’s not that simple, Kal.”

“It seems like a step in the right direction, no? Give her some time to cool off, and I’m sure she’ll let you do it again. What’s the issue?”

“I don’t just want to have sex with her!” Saria practically shouts, slamming down her glass, and making some of her scotch spill from the sides. “I know I shouldn’t, but I want my family back, Kal.”

“Saria-”

“I love her, even still. I always have. And I miss my daughter. And I just feel like such a fucking idiot for thinking things could ever be fixed.” She sounds defeated, and broken, letting her head fall into her hands, and closing her eyes. 

Kal’tsit places her hand on Saria’s back, and, when she speaks, it’s uncharacteristically gentle, and soft. “Listen, I’m not- necessarily- the best at this kind of stuff. I’m sure you know that. I think you just need to give her time though, Saria. What’s it been—five, almost six years? Can you blame her for being a little scared?”

Saria doesn’t look up, but she shakes her head in her hands, answering Kal’tsit’s question with a nonverbal ‘no.’

“So it’s understandable, then, how she reacted.” Kal’tsit finishes the rest of her drink, and stands up from her stool. “I don’t think she hates you, Saria, and I don’t think she considers what happened a mistake.” She lets out a deep sigh, and then pulls her hand away from Saria’s back, stuffing it into one of her pockets. “Get some rest, okay?”

“I’ll try,” but Saria’s response is muffled against her hands.

“Goodnight, Saria,” and, with that, Kal’tsit leaves, only the gradual distancing of her footsteps letting Saria know that she’s gone.

She stays like that for a while, with her head in her hands, breathing as deeply as she can manage. She trusts Kal’tsit, but, even for Saria, it’s still hard to process. It’s hard to wrap her head around the idea that maybe she didn’t mess up. Maybe it’s still possible to put things back together, even though it feels like sleeping with Silence was the biggest mistake she had made in some time. She wants to believe what Kal’tsit had said, but she can’t force herself to, no matter how hard she tries.

Shortly, however, she hears footsteps enter the bar.

“Forget something, Kal?” She says without looking up, but nothing could prepare her for what happens next.

“Dad!”

Suddenly, arms wrap around her sides, and a cheek presses into her back, and she knows. She knows, without even having to turn around, that it’s Ifrit. And she can’t help the tears that pour into her palms, salty pools that reflect back at her a woman who’s been broken for far, far too long.

Ifrit lets her go, so she sits up, wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands, and then turns around. “Hey, pumpkin,” She says, trying to keep her voice steady. “What are you doing here? Where’s your mom?”

Ifrit looks towards the ground, and shifts from foot to foot. “Mom went to her room, and never came out after you left. I may or may not have snuck out.”

“You know you shouldn’t be doing that, right, Ifrit?”

“I know I shouldn't. I just-” Ifrit sniffs; Saria can see her eyes watering. “I never get to see you anymore. I miss you.”

Gently, Saria wipes away a tear that had just begun to fall down Ifrit’s cheek. “I miss you, too.”

“Then why?” Ifrit asks, pleading, face turning red, and crumpling. 

Without thinking, Saria wraps Ifrit into a hug, so tight, and warm, and she can feel Ifrit start to sob into her shoulder. “It’s okay, baby; I promise.”

“Why? Why can’t I see you anymore?” Ifrit’s pleas are muffled against Saria’s shoulder, but she’s more than aware of what she said.

She knows she can’t say it. She’s sure that, by now, the girl’s already picked up on it somewhat—she’s smart, after all, just like her mother—but, to Ifrit, hearing ‘Silence won’t let me, and I have to respect that’ would be the same as telling her that it’s her mother’s mission to make her sad, no matter how valid the reasons are for it. 

She knows she can’t say it. In her mind, if Ifrit is only going to have one parent, it’s better that she loves the one that she has without any reservations, rather than the one who can’t be there, even if it feels like Saria’s heart is breaking into as many pieces as the day Silence told her to stay away.

“I just-” Saria bites her lip. “I just can’t.”

“Bullshit!”

“Language, Ifrit.”

“I just want my dad back.”

It takes everything Saria has not to start crying again. “I know, baby; I know.” She takes a deep inhale, one that rattles in her chest, and makes her feel faint, and she blows out just as shakily. “I’m sorry.”

Ifrit doesn’t respond right away. She stays buried in Saria’s shoulder, tremors wracking her body, but, eventually, she pulls away, and wipes her eyes with her fingers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Saria takes Ifrit’s hands into her own, and squeezes them, as reassuring as she can. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Saria took a drag from her cigarette, and glanced down towards her watch. She still had time before she had to be anywhere, but the faint buzz of nicotine was making it hard to sit still, and she could feel the filter start to burn her lips.

With a huff, she flicked her cigarette into a nearby trash can, and stood up, rolling her shoulders, before setting off. She wandered aimlessly through the hallways of Rhodes Island, down corridors, and past offices. It was peaceful; she liked walking around like this, being able to free her mind of whatever might be weighing it down.

What she didn’t expect, however, was to stumble into what she assumed to be some sort of medical wing, and, when she looked to her left, she saw an operating room, through a large, glass window. Silence was in it. Ptilopsis also was, along with Kal’tsit, and three assistants that Saria didn’t recognize. 

Silence had a mask and gloves on, with her hair pulled back, and the others- Well, Saria didn’t really pay them much attention. Instead, she sat down on a bench with a view of the window, and she just watched. She couldn’t hear inside the room, but she watched, as Silence and Ptilopsis had a conversation with Kal’tsit. She watched, as the assistants typed at a row of computers, three sets of hands mashing away loudly at mechanical keyboards. She couldn’t help but notice the determined look on Silence’s face, when she peeled her mask off, and looked over the shoulders of her assistants. She seemed cold; there were goosebumps on the back of her neck, visible from even this far away.

It had been a year since the incident with Dalia. It wasn’t as fresh in Saria’s mind now, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about it anymore. She did; she thought about it a lot. Despite not being there for very long, the young girl had left quite an impression on Saria. She could still remember how desperately Ifrit wanted to help her, how she, herself, had helped.

She still remembered when Silence told her it didn’t change anything, too.

She should’ve expected it. That’s not why she had helped in the first place, but there was a part of her, somewhere, that thought maybe Silence would see her as ‘redeemed,’ in some sense. But that’s not how things worked out. She still didn’t forgive her, still didn’t want her anywhere near Ifrit, or her bed, or her work, or-

Saria just did her best to avoid her whenever she could. 

It seemed she had been noticed, however, because, when she refocused her gaze, Kal’tsit was looking right at her. 

The white haired woman said something Saria couldn’t hear to Silence and Ptilopsis, and then excused herself. She stepped out of the room, and, from behind her, Saria could see Silence staring daggers at her through the window. 

“Need something, Saria?” Kal’tsit asked, cordial, and professional.

Saria shook her head, and stood up. “I was just leaving, sorry.” Before walking away, however, she raked her eyes across the operating room, not so much appraising it, as she was just, well, taking it in, so to speak. “Tell Joyce I said hi.”

“Of course,” Kal’tsit replied with a nod, and, with that, Saria turned around, and walked away.

Once outside, she pulled a cigarette out from the pack in her coat pocket, and lit it. She brought it to her lips, and inhaled, holding the smoke in, before blowing it towards the cloud.

It was a simple interaction—a nothing, really—but that was about as far as she could ever get nowadays. Silence seemed so cold, and Saria was no longer allowed to warm her up.

Silence feels sick, as she rolls out of bed the next morning. She feels cold, unbearably so, so she throws on a jacket over her normal outfit, before trudging into the kitchen, and making herself a cup of coffee. It doesn’t do much for her, but it’s something, at least, enough to get her to make her way to Ifrit’s room, and push open the door.

“Ifrit?” She says, yawning. “Time to get up, sweetie.”

Ifrit is already sitting up in bed, however, hugging her knees to her chest, and staring at her phone. She swipes to the left once, and then again, but she turns off the screen before Silence can see what’s on when she sits down next to her.

“Are you okay?” She asks, setting her coffee on Ifrit’s nightstand.

“Yeah, I’m just-” Ifrit shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Silence turns to better face her, pulling her legs onto the mattress, and crossing them. “You can talk to me, Ifrit; what’s going on?”

Ifrit places her phone down on her nightstand, and finally looks up at Silence. Her eyes are slightly puffy, and the lightest shade of red, as if she had been crying. “Promise you won’t get mad at me?”

“Of course.” Silence replies hesitantly, but, somehow, even though she should be, she isn’t ready for what Ifrit tells her.

“I talked to dad last night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence pauses for a moment. She isn’t sure what to say at first. At times, she used to wish that she and Ifrit could just forget about Saria, wipe the women clean from their minds, but, the more she thought about it, the more she knew she wouldn’t want that, even if it was possible.

Ifrit continues speaking in her silence. “I just- I saw her, here, talking with you, and I didn’t even get to say anything! And then she was gone, and I-”

“How’d it go?”

“Hm?”

“How’d it go? What’d you talk about?”

Silence decides to stop tiptoeing around it. It’s been years; whether she likes it or not, Saria was, and is, a part of their life. She’ll always be in their mind, especially Ifrit’s.

“We just- School, and she told me about her work, and just-” Silence can see tears forming in Ifrit’s eyes, but she wipes them away. “I miss her, mom. I miss her so much.”

Silence pulls Ifrit into a hug, then, running her fingers through the girl’s hair. “I know you do, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

They go through the rest of their morning relatively quietly. Silence still feels sick, and Ifrit is likely too tired, and too sad to be her normal, excitable self. It breaks Silence’s heart to think about it, to see it, in the flesh, how downtrodden such an energetic girl can be. It happens, every now and then, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make her sad, and, this time, it especially hurts.

Before they know it, however, breakfast is eaten, clothes are on, teeth are brushed, and they’re off, Silence to work, and Ifrit to school.

She tries not to think about Saria, as she walks to her office. She knows, firsthand, how good of a parent she was, and likely still is. She’s more than aware how good she was for Ifrit, back before everything happened. She can remember vividly the feeling of lips against hers, of arms around her waist, of mornings spent together as a family.

She’s trying not to think about it though, remember? She’s supposed to be heading to work, not bemoaning her ex-wife in an empty hallway.

Her plans to use work as a distraction are quickly dashed, however, when she arrives at her office, and finds Ptilopsis sitting on her desk.

“Good morning, Joyce,” She says, closing, and locking, the door behind her, so they wouldn’t have any intrusions.

“Morning, Olivia,” Ptilopsis says in response.

Silence can feel the woman’s eyes on her, as she walks around her desk, and sets down her things. She rummages through a few drawers, still feeling Ptilopsis’ gaze on her, and, when she shuts them, she looks up, and she has to ask.

“Was there something you needed?”

“How’d it go with Saria?”

Silence’s eyes widen, and she flops down into her chair. “How’d it what?”

“How’d it go?” Ptilopsis stands up, and turns around, facing Silence. “You know, with Saria?”

“How did- How could you have-”

Ptilopsis just smiles, and shrugs in response.

“Fine,” and Silence lets out a deep sigh, before taking off her glasses. “So, we talked.”

“And?” 

“And we kissed.”

Ptilopsis’ eyes widen at that.

“And then we had sex.”

“Olivia!” Ptilopsis leans forward, and swats at her over her desk. “I told you to talk to her, not sleep with her!”

“Well- I-” Silence’s words stumble for a moment, before she finds her footing. “I didn’t mean to!”

“What do you mean you didn’t mean to?!”

“It just kinda happened, okay? It’s not like I planned it.”

Ptilopsis doesn’t respond for a moment. Instead, she presses a finger to her lip, and Silence can practically see the gears turning in her head. She stays like that for a while—for a moment, Silence thinks she may have fallen asleep—but, eventually, she comes to, and she takes a deep breath.

“Do you regret it?”

Silence is confused, and more than slightly taken aback. “Joyce, I don’t think-”

“Do you regret it?” Ptilopsis repeats her question. “Knowing you, I’m sure you told Saria you did, but I wanna know. Do you actually?”

Silence’s nails scratch lightly at her desk. “I don’t know.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I don’t know,” is all Silence can mutter.

Ptilopsis is insistent, however. “Do you love her?”

Silence shakes her head. “I don’t know,” and it’s the quietest she’s been so far.

“Olivia.”

“Of course I still love her!” Silence snaps, practically shouting. “I always have, Joyce! And now I find out she did essentially none of the shit I thought she did?”

Ptilopsis looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t do any of it, Joyce! And I know how good she is for Ifrit, and I know how much I want her back, but I just-” Silence’s vision blurs, pools of tears threatening to spill out, but she wills them away. “I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.”

“Breathe, Olivia,” and Ptilopsis puts her hand on Silence’s arm. “It’s okay.”

“It’s been almost six years. I don’t even know if I should, let alone if I can. And what if she doesn’t want to? I’ve changed; I’m sure she has too. What if it doesn’t work, or what if she isn’t a good parent anymore, or what if-”

“Olivia.” Ptilopsis cuts her off, and Silence immediately quiets, biting her lip, and looking at Ptilopsis in fear. Ptilopsis looks over Silence’s desk for a moment, before her eyes land on a pencil holder. She pulls out a very specific pencil—one with a line of tape around the center—and hands it to Silence. “You know you want to try; that’s enough to start.”

Silence sniffs, and rubs her eyes with her fingers. “Thank you, Joyce.”

Silence can’t help but watch the clock, after that. She stares it down, silently waiting for the moment her work is over, and she can go see Saria. Time ticks away agonizingly slowly, however. It seems like ages before the clock even shows twelve, and even longer before it approaches four, and Silence feels she can leave without being too preemptive.

Somehow, the wait makes Silence even more nervous, even more anxious, and jittery. In truth, she’s not any less scared after talking with Ptilopsis; if anything, she’s more so. Could Silence blame her, if Saria didn’t want her back after scorning her so many years? It’s been some time since she’s had to put herself out there; she’s not sure if she remembers how.

Eventually, though, the time arrives, and Silence knows, just like in her research, it’s better to have tried, and failed, rather than to have not tried at all.

She stands in front of the door to Saria’s office, and she takes a deep breath. After a moment, she works up the courage to knock, three short, staccato notes against the cold metal, and she waits.

“What?” Saria’s voice is muffled through the barrier, but it’s just as gruff as she remembers.

Cautiously, Silence steps into the office. Saria has her reading glasses on, and is pouring over some papers with the most determined look on her face. She almost feels bad interrupting her.

“I didn’t say you could-” Saria starts, once she hears the door open and shut, but she stops when she looks up, and sees Silence. “Oh! Uh- Silence. Hi.”

Silence lets out a breath through her nose, and does her best to smile. “Olivia is fine, Saria.”

“Oh, okay.” Saria seems confused. “Was there something I could do for you, Olivia?”

Silence sits down in a chair beside Saria, and places her hands in her lap. “Can we talk?”

“Kind of a role reversal, don’t you think?”

Silence doesn’t answer, and she can see the bravado shrink away from Saria’s expression.

“Sorry. Yeah, of course we can. What’s up?”

Silence tightens her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms before unclenching them, and takes a deep breath, before she speaks. “I just- I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday.”

“Wh- Um- It’s okay, I-” Saria stutters, unsure of the right thing to say.

“Just listen for a second.”

Saria stops, and nods.

“I just was- Fuck, I am scared. What you told me, and what happened, it was just overwhelming. It’s a lot to process, Saria, but I believe you, and I’m scared that I do because I don’t know what it means now.” 

For the first time in a long time, Silence doesn’t flinch, as Saria reaches out to her. She brings her palms to her face, and lets her thumbs brush away her tears, and Silence-

Silence melts into it, and immediately feels warmer.

“I’ve never been able to forget about you,” She whispers, staring down at Saria’s wrists. “Not for a single moment, even despite all the shit I thought you did.”

Saria leans forward, resting her forehead against Silence’s. “I’m sorry,” and her tone is just as quiet as Silence’s, equally as delicate, and fragile.

“I miss you, Saria. I’ve always missed you, no matter how much I tried to hate you.”

“I miss you, too, Livy.”

Silence’s tears pour out in silent streams, carving a path down her cheeks, and falling from her chin. “I know it’s unfair, and, after everything that happened, it won’t be quite like it was, and I know I have no right to ask you, but can-”

Silence isn’t able to finish her question. Before she can, Saria’s lips are pressed against hers.

It takes her breath away. It’s soft, and patient, and passionate, and so, so loving, and Silence can do little other than close her eyes, and melt into it. She returns the kiss with just as much calm intensity, an outpouring of her heart through her lips, and, though she can taste salt on her tongue, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t want to break away even for a moment, let alone long enough to wipe away her tears.

Eventually, it’s Saria that leans back, just far enough to whisper against Silence’s lips. “I love you, Livy.”

Silence blinks, and rubs at her eyes. “I love you too; I never stopped loving you,” She confesses, and, truly, that’s what it feels like: a confession. Like a weight that’s been lifted off of her shoulders, a ball of tension heavy in her chest that’s decompressed; it’s light, and it’s freeing.

Saria leans in to kiss her again, and this time, when their lips press together, it’s warm. It’s warm, but not in the stifling way. It’s a calm, soothing kind of warmth, the one that washes away your worries, and your fears. It’s a nostalgic warmth, one that melts the ice long since formed inside Silence, through her veins, and around her heart. It tastes just like a campfire, just like she remembers, and, in that moment, she remembers something else, too, something about herself.

Silence hates the cold. She’s always much, much preferred the warmth.