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It is the worst day-after-term they've ever had.
It's a beautiful day, obnoxiously sunny with a gentle breeze. The school is safe. The girls are safe. Cackles has been saved once again from destruction, with even less structural damage than usual. There is a whole six weeks of break stretched out before them and yet the time means nothing to either Hecate or Ada.
Ada conducts Agatha funeral alone. It's a burial in symbolism only, Agatha's body can never be recovered. Nobody attends, for there is nobody left in the world who cared for Agatha save Ada. Even their own mother refused the invitation. Despite Agatha’s death, she continues to refuse to speak with at all Ada since the scandal of Wormwoods was brought to light. Ada wonders how much Alma Cackle knew.
Hecate offers to help, even just to be there, but Ada declines. There is absolutely no reason for Hecate to morn Agatha, if anything she has every right to be relieved and that's not something Ada can manage yet. Agatha was a monster but she was also her twin and now the final flicker of hope Ada had for her redemption has been snuffed out.
Hecate is in her office when Ada returns, weary and slightly dazed. She notices the mass of parchment in Hecate's arms and Hecate’s slightly pink expression.
"What's all that?"
"Unimportant," Hecate mumbles, pulling away even as Ada rescues a dangling sheet that's in danger of falling. It's filled with Hecate's miniscule handwriting, chants, Ada realizes. With crossed out ingredient lists scribbled down the margin. Across the top Hecate has scrawled the word "Failures."
There are all pleas for Ada to return from her shattered state. Ada’s eyes widen as she takes them in.
“Hecate.”
Hecate says nothing, but her eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere but Ada.
A cold creeping chill pricks Ada’s skin. “Hecate, if some of these had worked you could have lost your magic.”
Hecate purses her lips. “I was aware of that.”
Ada’s eyes are glassy, her voice trembling. Something inside her is breaking. “You might not have been a witch anymore, perhaps not even survive-“
“I know,” says Hecate too sharply, and it snaps Ada out of one spiraling panic and into a new one.
Hecate looks remorseful and she floats the papers down to the desk. “I…I know,” she says more softly. “But…” She trails off, unable to find the right words, any words.
Ada can feel the urge to speak, to demand answers bubbling up inside her. She quiets it and places a hand on Hecate’s arm. She waits.
Hecate choses her words carefully, slow and deliberate so there can be no mistake. “I have no desire to be a witch in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”
Ada swallows hard, struggling even after all they have been through together, after decades of affection and companionship and love, to accept the fullness of Hecate’s feelings. She has always been a woman of immeasurable intensity, in every way.
“Hecate,” breathes Ada, for the extend of Hecate’s pain is starting to become known to her, mixing with the shock that she hadn’t realized before. What was a blink of an eye to Ada had been several agonizing, hopeless days for Hecate. “You must tell me everything.”
Hecate slumps against the chair beside her. “I’ve finished my report-“
“Not the version that’s in the report,” interrupts Ada. She touches Hecate’s shoulder, leading her gently to the sofa in front of the fireplace. “The version for me. The person who loves you.”
The version for the person you love. And lost.
Hecate sits, curls into Ada, tells her everything. About her despair at being unable to bring Ada back, about her rage at not recognizing Agatha immediately, about her terror when Agatha weaponized Hecate’s own magic against Ada’s life.
Ada listens, absorbs. In a strange and perverse way, Hecate’s pain is easier to focus on than her own, and the role of comforter comes naturally to Ada. Understanding, kindness, forgiveness…it’s all much more readily given to Hecate than Ada ever manages for herself.
It helps too that Ada is here, safe and well. Holding Hecate is the best reassurance she thinks, it is undeniable, tangible proof. Long after Hecate is finished talking, they stay wrapped up in each other. Breathing together. Unwilling to let go.
Finally, Hecate speaks, her head still buried in Ada’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be here.”
Ada startles. “What?”
“Here,” comes Hecate’s voice. “In the castle.”
Ada nods slowly. She understands the sentiment, might even share it. They usually stayed at Cackles for at least a week to finish up after a school year. There are things to do still, as evidence by the disaster that is Ada’s office. The thought of the paperwork, the cleaning, the organizing, all of it makes Ada want to dissolve into a puddle. She cannot even imagine finding the energy.
She wants tea and biscuits and to go for a very long walk on the beach and to sleep in until noon. She wants to be with Hecate, to have no responsibilities whatsoever, and to forget everything.
“Let’s go then.” Ada suggests. They have a cottage sitting empty, and the moment the thought occurs to her Ada wants nothing more than to be there right now.
“To Cornwall?” Hecate sounds surprised, but she clearly had been thinking along the same lines.
“Why not,” says Ada.
“Well-“
“Don’t answer that,” Ada interrupts. She already knows why they shouldn’t. There is so much work they should attend to first, and she doesn’t care.
Hecate sits up, frowning. “Are you actually considering this?”
“You might have to talk me out of it at this point,” says Ada. She can tidy up the mess later, right now, she is finished. Hecate is beyond finished.
Hecate has no mind to dissuade her wife. “When?”
“Right now,” says Ada, shifting. “Why not?” There isn’t food stocked, but they have clothing there, and most basic supplies. The weather forecast was clear, they could pack some things and fly tomorrow perhaps.
Hecate thinks for a moment. “I could transfer us.”
Ada’s eyes widen. Hecate means business.
“That’s a long transfer,” Ada says slowly. “Are you cer-“
“I can manage it,” Hecate insists. “We could be there now. Right this second.”
It feels reckless. Two exhausted witches with a mountain of work to do. A powerful transference spell halfway across the country. But the thought of Cackles melting away is extremely tempting. Hecate’s eyes plead with Ada.
“Alright.” Ada agrees.
Hecate breathes deep. Ada can feel her magic rising, reverberating in the air around them. She closes her eyes and lets herself slip gently into Hecate’s spell.
Hecate inhales a great lungful of dust, causing her to cough violently. In the low light, she can’t make out any sign of Ada. Her heart stutters, panic creeping up her spine. She feels lightheaded. Why is she?
“Hecate?” With Ada’s voice comes a powerful rush of relief, so strong it almost buckles Hecate’s knees. Ada’s hand is on her back as she gulps air, her eyes are streaming. She coughs again and Ada’s arms sweep around her, steadying her,
“I’m fine,” insists Hecate, straightening up. “Just a bit of dust.”
Ada lets go, but stays close. Hecate can’t bring herself to fault her for it. It was a very long transfer spell, even the most seasoned witch might be momentarily disoriented. She’ll be fine. She just needs a moment.
Ada flicks her wrist, and the curtains and windows burst open, dazzling them with the late afternoon sun and a gust of sea air. Hecate inhales deeply, tasting salt, and then strongly the tang of lemons as Ada’s cleaning spell rips through the air, banishing the dust.
“That’s better,” Ada declares. Hecate stares at her, bathed in the golden light streaming through the windows and she still can’t shake that horrifying that Ada is not there, that she’s not real.
“Hecate?”
Hecate remains rooted to the spot. Of course, Ada is real. She’s right there.
“Hecate, darling.” Ada sounds concerned. Hecate tries and fails to smile, to make any face that hides her fear. It doesn’t matter. Ada can always tell.
“Sorry,” Hecate says, shaking her head.
Ada takes a step towards her. “What is it?”
Hecate looks around the space, familiar and cozy. The blankets flung over the back of the chairs, the tiny fireplace with a cauldron dangling on a hook beside it. The narrow wooden staircase that climbs up to the loft where they sleep. There is a photo from their wedding on the mantel. This was where they had their honeymoon.
“I don’t…feel any better.” Hecate confesses, her hands shaking. It seems like a ridiculous thing to say, but Ada doesn’t look at her as if she is ridiculous. “In fact, when we first materialized and I didn’t see you, I thought…”
Ada’s mouth falls open. “Oh Hecate, no.” She wraps Hecate up in the tightest possible hug.
“It’s constant,” Hecate whispers against Ada’s breastbone. “I can’t stop thinking about it for a second, about you…about…”
“I’m right here,” soothes Ada. “Everything is alright.”
The floodgates opened and Hecate weeps against Ada’s chest, unable to bear the weight of it all any other way. She has already tried hiding. She has already explained. This is the only thing left. They sink down into giant overstuffed chair and Hecate cries.
The softness of Ada’s sweater, her sweet familiar scent should be enough to quiet her anxious mind, but even long after Hecate has no more tears left, she still feels that at any moment Ada might slip away from beneath her fingertips. She tries focusing on Ada’s heartbeat, strong and steady in her ear. Even the space between each one terrifies her.
“I missed you,” Hecate says. “I missed you.” It doesn’t seem like enough to convey what an Ada-less world felt like.
“I know,” Ada tells her. “I know.”
Ada presses a kiss to Hecate’s forehead and Hecate finally lifts her head. Ada’s brilliant blue eyes are watery. “I’m so sorry, Hecate.”
That’s not right, Hecate thinks, that Ada should be sorry, when Ada of all people is blameless, entirely.
Ada took a shuttering breath. “I should have realized earli-“
“No,” Hecate whispers, bringing her hand to cradle Ada’s face. Their eyes lock, and they share a silent exchange they’ve had many times before. Ada is not to blame herself, Hecate will demand it if she must.
Ada relents, smiling sadly. “I’m still sorry about everything that happened, Hecate. That I wasn’t there.”
Hecate nods. “I missed you so much,” she says and again it isn’t enough.
“I know.”
Hecate leans in, brushes her lips ever so slightly against Ada’s. She’s not sure Ada could possibly know, not even now.
Ada kisses her back, soft and slow. Hecate pours that feeling into a long and tender kiss she thought she’d never have again. I missed you.
It’s better than words, or perhaps just different. Something else. Something that doesn’t require Hecate to think so much. She can just feel. Ada’s mouth on hers is warm and sweet and achingly familiar. She wants to stay enveloped in Ada’s arms forever, kissing and touching her. She winds her fingers through Ada’s silver hair, deepens their kiss further, and even if only for a moment it makes her feel sure. Ada kisses her back, hungrily, and Hecate thinks maybe Ada does understand, that the feeling - even if different - is still shared.
Hecate bites gently at Ada’s lower lip and Ada moans. The sound sends a jolt of arousal though Hecate and it’s jarring enough to make her realize what she’s doing, where her desperate need to touch and taste Ada is leading them. Another kiss and Hecate realizes Ada is right there with her, just as keen.
And isn’t this why they’ve come here anyways, so they can lose themselves in each other without the reminder of why they need it so badly pressing in on all sides?
There is a perfect good bed up the stairs, there is even a sofa on the other side of the fireplace that might offer more room, and neither Hecate nor Ada seem to care. A chair and Ada’s lap is more than enough, Hecate only cares about kissing Ada, about drawing more of those tantalizing sounds from her throat.
Eventually clothing becomes an annoyance, something that is keeping Hecate from touching Ada the way she’d like to. Ada helps her with the buttons and hooks, something Hecate is uncharacteristically clumsy with. The moment of frustration is forgotten when Hecate has Ada’s exquisite naked body before her, beneath her mouth and fingertips. She trails her fingernails over Ada’s soft stomach and down her thighs. She nips and sucks along Ada’s collarbone and on the underside of her breast, to gasps and whimpers. She takes Ada’s nipple into her mouth, teasing the bud with her tongue and she can feel the encouraging pressure of Ada’s hand in her hair.
Hecate sinks down to the floor, the wooden boards unforgiving against her knees. Ada twists, trying to reach a pillow for her, but Hecate waves her away. She reaches to cup Ada’s breast and Ada mumbles something about Hecate knees, even as her back is arching into Hecate’s touch and Hecate can’t help but appreciate the concern. She tucks a pillow underneath herself as much for Ada’s sake than for her own. It’s worth it for her smile, to know Ada can relax without feeling like she’s putting Hecate out. She never is.
Now that they’ve fallen into a familiar pattern, it’s easier to slow down and savor the moment. Hecate presses slow tender kisses to Ada’s stomach, the top of her hip, the inside of her knee. She pours love and attention to every stretch mark and every hidden freckle as she inches closer to the apex of Ada’s thighs, until Ada begs her, “Hecate, please.”
Hecate won’t make her ask again. She breaths in Ada’s intoxicating scent, eager to taste her. She circles Ada’s clit with her tongue, humming with pleasure and Ada’s hips surge up against Hecate’s mouth. Ada’s gasp turns into a wanton moan, sending a wave of heat through Hecate, wetness pooling between her own legs. There is nothing sweeter than that sound and the way Ada’s fingers twist in Hecate hair. Ada is so uninhibited in her pleasure, so clear about what she likes and how, something Hecate can’t help but admire. It fills Hecate with pleasure that Ada choses to share this part of herself with her.
Ada’s thighs quake and Hecate can feel how close she is. She could pull back, tease and delay the inevitable, but she doesn’t want to, doesn’t think Ada wants that either. Hecate’s lips close around Ada’s clit, licking and sucking as Ada’s body writhes, her climax crashing around her.
Hecate softens her mouth, but keeps right on going. Her tongue explores, avoiding too much attention where Ada is most sensitive, relishing every twitch and shudder. She teases at Ada’s entrance, slips her tongue inside and above her Ada lets out a ragged moan.
Hecate’s heart pounds and she replaces her tongue with her fingers, sinking into Ada’s warmth. Ada’s thighs tighten around her and Hecate hums her approval, sending vibrations through Ada’s center. Ada’s hips buck, pressing harder against Hecate, and they move together, finding a rhythm that leaves Ada panting and groaning as she climbs towards another orgasm. Hecate closes her eyes so she can focus on the sensations; Ada’s velvet softness against her mouth, the way she clenches around Hecate’s fingers, the pressure of Ada’s legs holding Hecate in place where she is safe and happy and surrounded by her lover.
Ada’s breathing grows more uneven, her hips falling out of the rhythm they’ve created, until her body stiffens and there is a moment of utter stillness. She comes silently this time, unable to make a sound, and for Hecate it is as if time itself has stopped. Ada’s bliss is her bliss.
When Ada’s body finally relaxes Hecate looks up. There are tears streaming down Ada’s face, but she is smiling weakly, and Hecate knows everything is all right. Hecate wipes at her mouth and chin, slick with Ada’s arousal, and presses a kiss to the inside of Ada’s thigh. With heavy, trembling limbs Ada pulls Hecate to her and Hecate settles onto Ada’s lap.
They don’t speak. Neither seems to feel like they have to. Nothing beyond the four walls of their little cottage has changed, but for the moment all their fears seem a bit further away.
Ada sighs, running her hand through Hecate’s hair, untangling a knot in the curls that she is likely responsible for. Hecate closes her eyes, leans against her wife. Breathes. Ada knows and that’s what matters. Everything else will come in time.