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"We've got twenty minutes, Ange." With a sharp tone, Dorothy leapt out of her seat, ignoring the unfinished tea-set still waiting on the two's table. "Let's not blow it. We haven't staked this place out for the last week to cock it up now."
In a cutesy café a spy wouldn't usually be seen at, Ange and Dorothy's patience was all but spent. "You don't need to tell me." Following her partner up and out the door, Ange set her sights on the neat cottage sitting opposite to them, just across the road.
A few minutes earlier, a shrewd woman had been seen making her way out the door, and into the buzz of the streets. At 1:20 in the afternoon for the past week, she'd done the exact same. Such was the personality of a scientist; awkward, obsessive, and ever eager to follow routine. This particular mark was Maria Doucette, famous in some circles of Albion's medicine trade, but mostly known as a reliable source of the Kingdom's potions and poisons.
The orders had been the usual. Get in, and take as much sensitive information as possible, even if it meant getting violent. As long as they covered their tracks, there wouldn't be a problem with ransacking the place and staging it as a robbery. For such measures, Dorothy was carrying a crobar in the quaint bag she carried at her hip.
"I'll take the top floor, and you take the first, OK?" As they shuffled through a dingy back-street and helped each other over the low wall, Dorothy agitatedly barked instructions at Ange, who took them all without a word. "If you run into any problems, don't be afraid to call out."
"You can say the same for yourself, Dorothy." Ange muttered as she hefted Dorothy over the cobbles, and then awkwardly brushed the dirt off her hands. After a brief scuffle, the two were comfortably on their way to completing the mission. "How long now?"
"Hm." Dorothy checked her watch. "Seventeen minutes. Let's synchronise."
"Might as well." Ange reached down to her own watch. "3... 2... 1..."
*Click*
As though the light click of their watches synchronising was a starting gun, the two rushed off without a word.
The inside of Doucette's house, Dorothy found, was practically spotless. And not in the way a scientist's house might be, though - the furnishings were well organised and co-ordinated, almost inviting her to take a seat. The windows were open, and light flushed in through them, making Dorothy wince and stick to the sides of the room as to not be caught by it.
Dorothy found, quite quickly, that she shouldn't have picked the downstairs. Having waited a week for this moment, she was painfully underwhelmed by how little there was. Perhaps she was being had, but there wasn't a single sign of any precious vials or sensitive information in sight. "Come on, give me a bite, at least..." Dorothy cursed her disappointment, telling herself she was better safe and bored than in terrible danger. She wondered how Ange was doing, but ignored the thought as well.
After a few minutes of searching, Dorothy managed to find something of note. A small door installed on the side of a wall, much like a dumbwaiter. Carefully brushing her hands across the indentation, she found the panel could be pushed in. It dropped down eagerly to rev;al a lens. It only took a second - Dorothy prayed she was faster - but as she covered her face, a terrible flash lit up the room. "...Gah!!"
Despite Ange always claiming she was better, faster, and smarter than Dorothy, the two made their mistakes at the same moment. As Dorothy sent herself balling across the floor, she heard a howl from upstairs. "Ange!" Her heart pitched as she heard it. There was more than just fear in Ange's voice, but an intense pain. What followed was even more terrifying; a loud clump, as something heavy hit the floor.
Stumbling through the apartment, Dorothy fought the blindness she'd been dealt by the lens-trap, desperate to find Ange before she triggered an ever more sinister trap.
They'd both been impatient and cocky, and now they were suffering because of it.
"Ange... Ange... Ange...!" She found the girl curled up on the floor of the first, and only, room upstairs. The whole scene was a mess. It seemed that Ange had systematically destroyed the room as she'd searched it, leaving an odd divide between the side she had and hadn't searched yet. She still held the club in her slightly-twitching fingers.
Dorothy hissed curses as she checked Ange's body. Pulse- still going. Throat- still breathing. Eyes- still, almost calm. Her body- unharmed, apart from a nasty dart impaled in the back of her throat. As long as her finger, the sight of it sent a shiver down Dorothy's spine.
They wouldn't be able to climb over the wall, not with Ange unconscious. The only option was out the front door, or through a window. They didn't even have any time to find the keys: at this point, they only had a few minutes. At the very least, they needed to cover their faces. Perhaps it was a bit late at this point, seeing as Dorothy almost had her picture taken downstairs, but having the police on their tail wasn't a risk they could take.
Fortunately, Doucette had plenty of gas masks. A whole cupboard full of them, supposedly each for different cause, but all very much a complete mask. Shoving one on herself and then the comatose Ange, Dorothy made a beeline for the stairs, taking care not to stumble on the way down.
After forcing open a window and tumbling out of it, Dorothy had to bear the weird looks she received from the still-busy streets. She didn't care about it, though. She was far more afraid of Control's reprisal. No, she was most afraid of something else; a Princess scorned.
Her sleeve soaked slightly in Ange's blood, Dorothy shook as she fixed a bandage around the wound, tentatively checking her vitals every few second, and taking care not to tie it the gauze too tight. "Please be OK, Ange..." She didn't want to remember Ange's pitched scream earlier. She didn't want to imagine hearing the same tone when Princess saw Ange's body.
"She's not dead yet, Dorothy! Fuck!" Forcing herself to focus, Dorothy set Ange into a comfortable-enough position and gunned the engine. She'd almost forgotten, but she took a moment to tear off her gas mask and throw it into the back along with Ange, who was still wearing her own mask. They were easy enough to breathe in, so she didn't see anything wrong with leaving it.
"So, some good news--" Dorothy stopped. First, there wasn't any good news. And second, this was no time for jokes. "Well..."
"Ah, Dorothy, you're back!" Princess chimed back as Dorothy came through the clubroom door. Beatrice and Chise were with her, conveniently, and they all seemed in good spirits. "Is your mission over?" As she checked around for Ange, Princess' merry demeanour faded. "...Is... Is Ange with you?"
Dorothy was overcome with a cold terror. She had to take control of the situation. "She isn't dead." Inside her mind, she screamed. Could she have said anything more stupid? "She's safe." Much better.
"What do you mean, Miss Dorothy?" Beatrice stood up now, as if she could sense Princess' mood worsening. "Where is she?"
"I took her to her room before coming here." Dorothy's downtrodden look told as much as Princess needed to know.
"Let me through." With an uncharacteristic amount of force in her voice, Princess Charlotte approached the door, forcing Dorothy out of the way with nothing more than a sharp look.
"Princess, Don't-- I mean, you don't need to--" Dorothy stammered and stuttered as she followed Princess and Beatrice down the corridor like she was their aide. Ange's condition was widely unknown. "I already sent the dart to Control to analyse. Please, stay--"
"The Dart?!!" Princess' pace sped up twicefold, and the two struggled to keep up with her. "She was shot with a dart? What were you two doing?!"
"We were at a medicine-maker's house, looking for her new formulas." Dorothy was doing her best to keep Princess filled in whilst skipping out the most dangerous details.
"And you just let her test it out on Ange?" The three - Chise had been left in the dust a while back - reached Ange's room, Princess breached the door with a fierce efficiency Dorothy thought only Ange was capable of.
Ange and Dorothy's room was a sterile place. As good as their covers were, they hadn't bothered to pick up any hobbies at the school past their pretend club, and as such, had left their room utterly empty.
"Ange!" Princess was already by her side, kneeling on the floor and gripping Ange's hand through the duvet. "Please, wake up!" She shot a dire look at Dorothy. "What happened to her?! Aren't you supposed to be the team leader?"
Dorothy had no answer. She could blame Ange's confidence, her own impatience, or even Doucette's ingenuity to create a trap that could fool even Ange, but found nothing. "I'm sorry..."
A day passed in terrified silence. Princess had gone silent, and despite Beatrice's care, she hadn't left Ange's room since. Chise, on the other hand, seemed relatively unchanged, confident that Ange would wake up soon. Dorothy tried to commend her chipperness, but in her own depression, couldn't find the energy.
"Dorothy-san!" Chise found Dorothy moping around the clubroom, cleaning her guns and doing whatever. Holding a crisp letter in her hand, she seemed hopeful, but her hand was still shaking. "The letter from Control has arrived!"
Dorothy's ears perked up, and she dashed over to her, snatching the letter from her hand. "It's not black!" She cheered. "It's not black!!" Hugging Chise, or really, scooping her off her feet, Dorothy's smile widened, her charm coming back in an instant.
"What--" As she was half-squeezed to death by her senior, Chise got a look at the letter. "What does it not being black matter?"
"It would be black if it was bad news. White, however, suggests otherwise."
Just as Dorothy had predicted, the letter contained a lot of good news. After a long analysis of the dart, Control sent their commendations; not only did the dart only contain a very powerful tranquiliser, it was also a completely new serum, which Control could now create their own antidote to. All in all, the mission had come out a success, even if Ange wouldn't leave her bed for a week or so.
So, the White Pigeons took turns looking after their new catatonic teammate. As Control devised an antidote, all they could do was wait.
Seeing as Dorothy was Ange's teammate, and roommate, she ended up spending the most time with her. Sometimes Chise would be posted to her bedside, and would play her Oriental music for her while she slept. Dorothy let her; perhaps the cacophony would wake Ange up prematurely. Beatrice only came along when Princess asked her to. Princess was always on her royal duties, and never managed to spend a moment with her, so she relied on Beatrice to deliver her news of Ange's state.
It was a few days into the 'coma' when Princess Charlotte got her first chance to look after Ange. Dorothy was off on a mission; despite the almost-disaster they had just suffered, she was sent straight back to work by Control.
She had set up a cute little tea-time with Ange's body, having brought in a low chair and table to set a few sweets and drinks out on. After all, if Ange woke up, she would surely be starving. Dorothy hadn't told her yet, but she had been syringe-feeding Ange at Control's behest throughout the week.
"Charlotte..." It had been a while since she'd said that name. It sounded nice on her lips, as it always did, but now it left a sickly aftertaste when Ange didn't reply.
She sat in silence for a few moments.
"You really scared me, you know." Her voice became more muted as the quiet of the room devoured her. "But if you'll be OK, I know I can still smile."
Charlotte looked up from her tea-set, and at the bed. She realised, suddenly, that she couldn't see Ange from where she was sitting.
Eagerly, she hopped up and shuffled over to the bed, sitting down on it to see Ange properly.
"You're so quiet." Seeing her sleeping face brought a soft smile to Charlotte's own. None of the lies, or the plotting, or the fear was present, anymore. She hadn't had a chance to see much of Ange sleeping, as she always forced Charlotte to sleep before going to bed herself.
"Ever since Casablanca, we really haven't had much time alone..." Charlotte tried to think of any tender times they'd had since their return, but couldn't remember any. "...My turtledove." The pet nickname perked her up a bit, and she scooched herself across the bed, closer to Ange. She could hear her breath now.
"But, I don't think this counts as time alone, really." She blushed, thinking about how Ange's personality always changed when they found themselves alone. "It's not like we're having a fancy dinner, or sharing the bath, or..." Charlotte was about to add 'sleeping together', when she realised... they could be sleeping together. They were already halfway there, after all.
After a cute glance about, Charlotte made it the rest of the way across the bed, and then, in one quick movement, flipped the duvet over herself.
Ange was in her pyjamas. Charlotte's already red face took on yet a ruddier shade as she thought about Dorothy changing her out of her spy uniform and into her pyjamas, unmoving and unresponsive.
What else had Dorothy done to her?
What else could she do to her?
"...Anything..." Charlotte answered her own question, and her hand crept closer to Ange's exposed stomach. "I could do anything." Not thinking, her hand met Ange's flank, and she pulled it back suddenly, afraid of the touch. Afraid of how vulnerable she was. She wondered for a moment how Ange would respond if Charlotte told her about this when she woke.
It crept back, though, and before long, Charlotte found her fingers dancing across Ange's tummy. She pulled the rest of her body closer, until she was pressed up against her. She nursed her hand across Ange's body, feeling the muscles of her stomach with a greedy eagerness.
Charlotte imagined what might happen to Ange's figure if she slept any longer. Would she need help moving? Charlotte's face paled for a moment, and she buried her face in the nook of Ange's neck, trying to forget the image. She would be okay, eventually. They would both be.
The feeling was so familiar. Ange and Charlotte had lied together so many times. But, now, it was so different. With Ange not moving, Charlotte couldn't help but feel weird.
"Charlotte, you're so warm..." Having been buried under her sheets for a few days now, Ange was practically a heated doll, at this point. "Can I come a bit closer?" Charlotte's cheeks flushed up again as she engaged a pretend conversation with her other self.
Hesitantly, Charlotte wrapped a hand around Ange's wrist. Surprisingly heavy, she lifted it and placed in under her neck, wrapping the arm around her shoulders confidently.
Charlotte shimmied in yet closer, wrapping her legs around the other girl's. Ange twitched instinctively as she did, her arm curling around Charlotte's shoulder, and close to her chest.
"You're so forward, Charlotte..." She teased the sleeping girl. As her hand traced back to Ange's body, it ran across her chest. Contentedly, Charlotte wrapped her arm around Ange's torso, squeezing tight enough so that she could feel her breasts without having to grope them. She nuzzled her face against Ange's cheeks, enjoying the contact more than usual, after having been starved of her touch for almost a month. Underneath Ange's pyjamas, she could still feel her chest rise and fall with a soft rhythm.
Deciding she didn't want to leave the bed any time soon, Charlotte began tossing about under the covers, trying to take off the stiffer part of her uniform without clubbing Ange with an errant hand. After ten seconds - A new record for her, but not for Ange - she pulled off the grey dress and kicked it out of the sheets.
Cuddling up to Ange, Charlotte found herself overcome with a cool calm. For the first time in a while, she was able to get a good night's sleep. It might be a few more days until her sleeping beauty awoke, but until then...
Charlotte would make the most of it.