When In Doubt, Go With Blue

Some Wrecked Angel (NSFW), like in the second half

It was sundown by the time Farah returned. She looked exhausted, outside your door. You were sympathetic to her mission and the toll it must've taken, but that didn't discount your anger. She smiled when the door opened before she even reached it. That joy rescinded when you walked away from the doorway. The woman let herself in and followed you with her eyes. Once you were on the couch, she looked all around the room. She saw a teapot set up. Farah smiled when she felt the hot kettle. Once a cup was made, she seated herself beside you. You inched sideways, away. 

Farah stared at you, worried and a bit frightened. She called your name softly. 

You didn't respond, simply reading a book. 

But Farah was stubborn, though soft, and determined. She held your wrist and ran her fingertips down your skin. She called you, gentle as ever, and a thousand different terms of endearment. 

Eventually, her pure intentions and concern at your ire wore you down, and convinced you talking was best. "You're a lot older than me." Farah's heart as seized as she feared you'd come to the same conclusion as her, but couldn't move on from it. "You've had relationships and a life long before I came along." The woman nodded, unsure as to where this was coming from or where it was going. "I understand I won't know anything near everything. Everything you know or everything about you, I know I can't. But you cannot lie to me." Farah frowned, now entirely confused. "Family emergency?" you repeated her fib. 

Her lovely brown eyes slipped shut, having lost track of who she'd told that lie to. "You're right." She didn't say anything more. No lies, no defense. 

The silence offended you more than anything. You turned back to your book, trying and unknowingly failing, to hide an angry expression. 

Farah didn't know to say. She hadn't wanted to lie to you to begin with, and then they found his echo and learned of his death. She hadn't specifically suspected you, but you were new to Alfea, and the Headmistress' blindspot, prompting her to introduce you to the Queen. Then, everything happened so fast and now you knew. No words could save her now. "May I still sleep in here?" she asked, fearing a full retreat on your part. You'd let her in the Suite, made her tea. 

You reached over and took her hand, the free one, from her lap. You held it in your lap, pretending to ignore her still. "Just you try to sleep anywhere besides beside me while there's a murderer around." 

Farah smiled. "Oh, we got her." 

Your grip on her hand tightening. Short, firm nails dug in. She understood. Even still, she was going nowhere. 

*

Nights were more difficult after the capture of Callum's killer. She screamed every second Farah was with her. And the students always knew when Farah was with Beatrix. One perk of the secrecy that came with your relationship, the other students still trusted you with their secrets. Most students were in a massive group chat to debate gossip or plan parties around the teachers. So when the Specialist hen saw Farah and Saul Silva walk into the building where the crazy ginger was held, she texted the chat. And, not ten seconds later, every student heard the shrill screaming. 

It made your already tenuous sleep downright impossible. But, deep in the midnight blackness, Farah returned to you. Each week night, the Headmistress snuck into your suite and held you until one or both of you awoke the next morning. Despite the continued screaming, which they were ironically not informed was not caused by Farah, she did help silence the screams for you two. And each morning she was there. When you woke up, whether she was asleep or awake, she was there without fail. Whether it was intentionally for her own forgiveness or not, you couldn't stay mad at such a pure soul.