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There was a clock on the wall, across from where they lay on the narrow cot. It ticked in a way that made Basira’s skin prickle. The door was closed, but she kept imagining that she could hear people walking from beyond it. The clock ticked. Daisy breaths came softly.
Basira watched her sleep closely. The small rises and falls of her chest, the way her hand clung tightly to Basira’s. She felt her skin beat with life. It made her heart clench tightly, something scared and hard working its way up her throat as she pressed her lips softly to Daisy’s brow.
She wasn’t getting better. Every day without a Hunt left her that much weaker, that much more tired. That much more of a liability.
Shame twinged in her chest as soon as she’d thought it. She sighed, brushing a lock of light hair from Daisy’s face as if she was apologizing directly to her. She’s not a liability, she reminded herself firmly. She’s just different now.
She liked who Daisy was now, anyway. She was so much more quiet. Ever since the Unknowing, Basira’s head had been muddled, and so very loud. She’d slowly realized that Daisy was willing to be her refuge now, not just her partner. She was softer, more willing to be held by Basira, let her kiss her gently. There were a lot of ways that Basira missed the old Daisy, but this new version was so much more… peaceful. This version was willing to sit with her in both of their thoughts, able to help her think clearly and not just with the blood. She was peace.
She was still fear, though, too. Just in a different way. Basira had never had to feel scared for Daisy before. Now, though, she couldn’t stop the horrible feeling that she was watching her waste away in front of her, without anything either of them could do. Every night Basira lay awake and examined every detail of Daisy’s face, every freckle and scar across her body. She was trying so hard to memorize her. She didn’t know how much longer she would last. How long it would be before her bright eyes and her soft hair, now wild and growing at the nape of her neck, would fade. That she would wake up and Daisy would be nothing more than a shell of the person she was now, life thrumming below her skin.
Basira could still hear her blood, even though it was quieter. She’d nearly lost her mind the first time she couldn’t hear it anymore. The terror of losing her again gripped her, drove her. It froze her, too. That first image of her after eight months had stuck in her mind and hardened there. She’d been barely more than skin and bones, dragged out of the coffin by Jon, her hair so dirty with mud it looked dark brown. Collapsing into her arms. Leaning on her more heavily than she ever had in all the years they’d known each other.
Daisy’s rhythmic breaths relaxed her, though. Steady exhales that were brushed out over Basira’s skin. Daisy’s palms were a little clammy, but Basira didn’t let go.
She felt her eyelids droop, just a little. It took so long for her to fall asleep these days.
Basira heard a soft knock at the door, and she blinked away her grogginess, glancing up to see Jon in the doorway, a slightly shaking hand curled around the doorframe, the other covering his eyes.
“Can I come in?” he asked quietly. Basira pulled on her hoodie over her bare skin.
“Hang on a minute,” she told him as she tucked her hair under her hood. She settled back against the wall carefully, Daisy breathing in the crook of her arm. “Yeah, come on.”
Jon stepped into the room cautiously, rubbing both of his arms.
He was wearing a sweatshirt at least five times too big on him. Basira wondered where he’d managed to get it. Martin had never seemed one to leave his clothes lying around the archives, even before he’d become… distant. Jon tugged at the edges of it, as if unsure where to stand, what to do. Basira gestured to the cot across from hers and Daisy’s, and he sat down on it cross-legged, still looking apprehensive.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” he said softly, curled in on himself, twining a long curl around his finger.
Basira looked up at him from Daisy’s soft skin, her hair against her hand. She gave him a look, stroking her hair just slightly. His cheeks were sunken, the bags under his eyes dark. Basira felt something like pity stir in her before she stomped it out.
He wasn’t wearing his glasses, she realized. Her skin prickled uncomfortably. Usually he still wore them, probably as a formality, but she’d wondered about it for a while. She remembered he’d been nearly blind before.
“It’s better you come sit with us than go out for a live statement,” she murmured, looking away again. She still saw him flinch. She didn’t really care.
“I know, I know…” he mumbled. He gestured at Daisy’s sleeping form, fondness bleeding at the edges of his expression. “I just- we’ve been spending a lot of time together, me and her. I feel… better, when I’m with her.”
A pang rose in Basira’s throat, and she made a small sound of affirmation.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” She didn’t really mean for her voice to come out as chilly as it did. Jon looked confused for a moment, and then he went a little pale, and he waved his hands panickedly. “No, no, no, not like that, I promise, it's not like that at all- I- Martin- you know what, it’s… stupid. But I-I don’t view Daisy in a romantic way, at all.”
Basira watched him incredulously and then breathed a laugh, which seemed to surprise Jon.
“Jon, I know. You're seriously the opposite of subtle when it comes to Martin.” She felt herself lower her guard a little, despite everything. His face reddened slightly and he buried it in his arms. Basira found herself intrigued by it. He made a few false starts at a reply, and then sighed and tugged on the curl still wrapped around his finger.
“Yeah. Thanks.” he said eventually, muffled.
Basira glanced back to Daisy, still nestled in her arms. One of her arms was slung around Basira’s waist, and she tugged lightly on the material of her hoodie as she slept. Basira could tell it was a nightmare from the deepening crease in Daisy’s brow. She pressed her lips to her forehead gently. Daisy’s expression smoothed out slightly.
“I think it’s lovely that you have each other.” Jon was watching her again, his unnerving gaze peeking out from over his arms, his voice still muffled by the sleeves.
Basira sighed, trying to ignore the bile rising in her throat again. Daisy curled closer to her. After a moment, she gave him a little look, weighing her options.
“I don’t know how long it’s going to last. She’s slipping away.” The words came out of her weaker than she’d like.
“No. She’s strong and she won’t. You know that.”
Basira glanced up at him in surprise. Jon looked back at her defiantly.
“You’re not the only one here that loves her, Basira.” he murmured.
She shook her head. “That isn’t what I meant. I just...” she looked at Daisy’s sleeping face, hesitating again. Something faint she recognized as jealousy twisted in her stomach. She forced it away and clicked her tongue impatiently. “Jon- I- listen. It’s always been just me and her. It’s odd that...” she gestured weakly to him, then herself, then Daisy.
“Right.” Jon nodded slightly, understanding in his dark eyes. They both went quiet for a moment, Daisy sighing in her sleep. Basira turned over the information in her head. She was very glad that Daisy had Jon. But it made her nervous, and she didn’t know why.
She’d seen them together. They understood each other. Before the coffin, Basira had been the only one like that. Only she could really see Daisy, run at a pace with her that no one else could. Now… It was an effort. Some days Daisy couldn’t be bothered anymore. When that happened, Jon would sit back with her. Basira wasn’t sure how to cope with that yet.
“I haven’t had any family in a long time,” Jon admitted. He pulled on the drawstrings of the hoodie, a somewhat absent look in his eyes. Basira remembered how Daisy had shakily insisted he stay with her when Basira washed eight months of dirt off of her body. She remembered finding them curled up together in the break room, Jon’s arms crossed in a sleepy embrace around Daisy’s waist, the same way she was lying with Basira now, while she talked to him under her breath. It hadn’t been a moment Basira felt like she could intrude on. She knew there was something they had that was deeper than just a connection in suffering. They were, in a lot of ways, the only one the other had. It was frustrating.
“...I get it,” Basira said instead. She didn’t want to let him in on all that. Easier to keep it simple. Jon pressed his lips together, like he was trying not to smile. He nodded almost imperceptibly. It made Basira uncomfortable. Maybe he knew what she was thinking anyway.
After a few minutes, Daisy blinked awake, all slow stretches and brown eyes looking up to focus on Basira’s face instantly. Even now, Basira knew she was the first one Daisy looked for whenever she woke up. That, at least, gave her a sense of security.
Daisy saw her, and the little smile that she offered, bleeding of tenderness, had Basira ready to melt into her. She took her hand and brought it to her lips, and then turned her head slightly, saw the still huddled form of Jon a few paces away. She smiled at him too, the sleepiness in her expression softening the gesture.
“What’re you doing all the way over there, Sims?” she asked him groggily. She halfheartedly sat up, one arm still twined with Basira’s, and waved him over. His face reddened. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t want to intrude-”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “You’re already here, Jon, Basira and I aren’t gonna start anything now .”
“Daisy!” Basira said reproachfully. She gave her a wolfish grin. “I said we weren’t !”
Jon cleared his throat. “I’d like to be near you both less now.”
Despite herself, Basira felt the edges of her mouth twitch up, and Daisy tossed her a sly look of triumph.
“Get over yourself, Sims, you’re not twelve. C’mere.” Daisy looked at him pointedly, gesturing for him to cross the small room, until he grumbled and crawled to her other side. Daisy sighed in contentment, wrapping an arm around him and the other around Basira’s waist, drawing them both close.
“Now I’ve got all my boys,” Daisy announced drowsily, kissing both of their heads.
Basira gave Jon an amused look. He was completely smushed into the bulkiness of Daisy’s large sweatshirt. He looked disgruntled, but overwhelmingly at ease, too.
Basira crowded herself against her too, her arm slung across her back protectively.
“Why’re you up?” came Daisy’s muffled voice, directed at Jon. The thin man sniffed. “Hungry. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Mm.” Daisy agreed, softly. Basira’s lips found her shoulder and she kissed her there lightly. Daisy glanced at her with a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair back under her hood.
“Missed you ,” she mouthed to her. Basira settled closer to her with a sigh, took her hand.
“Want to talk about it?” Daisy asked Jon. Basira closed her eyes, knowing that she wasn’t really meant to contribute in this conversation. Daisy’s hunger was another thing Basira would never be able to relate to like Jon could.
She heard him sigh, felt him shift slightly. His scarred hand bumped against her forearm, and he let out another frustrated exhale.
“Just a man who walked into the Institute today. Repairman, wasn’t even coming to the Archives.”
“Yeah,” Daisy mumbled. Basira opened her eyes, saw him buried in the crook of Daisy’s neck, staring down at his hand, his thumb tracing a pockmarked scar on his palm. He saw her watching him and stopped.
“Nightmares?” he asked Daisy, who nodded. “The usual.” The coffin.
“Me, too,” he murmured. Basira shifted so her ear was pressed up against Daisy’s heartbeat. She closed her eyes again as Daisy and Jon continued to talk above her. She slipped a hand below Daisy’s sweatshirt, pressing against the soft skin of her stomach, tracing the outlines of the scars she knew were there. Daisy was recounting her nightmare, the choking.
“...and Isaac was there, my mom too,” she said quietly. “It was so much .”
Jon hummed in acknowledgment. “How’d you get out?”
“The usual,” her voice had gone a little breathy. “Basira,”
Basira wondered if they thought she’d fallen asleep. She felt her throat tighten.
“I keep thinking I’m seeing Martin in the corner of my eye, walking past in the hall,” Jon’s voice was strained. “But when I look he’s not there. I don’t know what… I miss him.”
“I saw him the other day.” Daisy said, and she shifted. Basira could imagine her stroking Jon’s hair comfortingly, his cheek. “He’s still there. I promise. We’ll figure something out.”
“Yeah,” Jon whispered. “Sure,”
“Maybe what you need is a grand gesture,” Daisy said thoughtfully. “Something to show that there’s someone who wants him. Pull him back from the brink.”
Jon huffed. “That wouldn’t work, Daisy.”
“Why not?” Daisy was smiling, Basira was sure of it. “Don’t you remember how I convinced Basira to give us a go of it?”
“Didn’t you two… get into a huge fight?” Jon asked warily. They had. Basira could still remember the cold night, both of them barely clothed, arguing at the top of their lungs in the middle of Basira’s tiny apartment. It had been a very long night. They’d been fighting because Daisy had told Basira that she loved her.
“Yeah… but that worked out, didn’t it?” Daisy’s voice was light, a smile in her voice. Jon let out a little huff and wriggled again from beside her.
“I’m never going to fall asleep if you keep squirming, Jon,” Basira muttered, moving her head just enough to see him jump. Daisy snickered.
“I thought you were already asleep, sorry,” he said back, his eyes a little nervous. Basira smiled slightly, despite herself. “Guess you aren’t so all-seeing after all,”
“Guess not,” he mumbled, looking away. Daisy laughed again, a harsh exhale through her nose. “That’s good , Jon, remember?”
He hesitated, made an incoherent sound, and then settled back against Daisy, tucking his head back into the crook of her neck. Daisy clucked her tongue at him sympathetically.
“How long were you two talking before I woke up?” she asked Basira. Basira shrugged. “Not long. Ten minutes, maybe.”
“Thirteen and a half,” came Jon’s matter-of-fact voice, muffled as it was. Basira rolled her eyes and patted his knee, a more friendly gesture than she was willing to accept. She still liked him, despite everything. It annoyed her to no end, but Daisy’s face lit up when she saw the small gesture. Basira sat up and shuffled herself into a different position, tangling a hand back up in Daisy’s hair and slinging her legs over one of Daisy’s, leaning in to kiss her cheek and then rest her forehead against her temple. She listened to her breathe.
Daisy turned her face and kissed Basira softly, hooking an arm around her waist to pull her closer. Basira slid a hand across her cheek, cupping her face and breathing in.
“Still here,” Jon slapped Daisy’s thigh, breaking the spell. He hadn’t lifted his head from her neck, but Basira could see his grin. Daisy broke away from her and swatted the back of his head with the arm wrapped around his shoulders. Basira tilted her head to rest against Daisy’s.
There was something very peaceful about it. They all eventually ended up lying down together, Basira on one side, Jon on the other, the three of them not really fitting on the narrow cot. Jon and Basira agreed silently to shift so Daisy had the most comfortable position, and the two of them ended up lying half on top of her so as to not be practically on the floor. She fell asleep again first, leaving Basira to fight the urge to squirm as she felt Jon’s gaze on her again. She cracked one eye open with a glare.
“What is it?” she whispered. Jon blinked a few times, as if just remembering he needed to.
“Sorry. I’m thinking,” his lips barely moved as he spoke. Basira felt Daisy’s stomach move up and down beneath her palm. She squeezed just slightly, feeling the warmth of her.
“About?” she pressed, and he looked surprised.
“Oh, I… Martin. Just Martin,” he admitted softly, ending in a sigh. “I’m very conflicted. I wish…” he looked down.
“I know how you feel.” Basira mumbled when he trailed off. He furrowed his brow a bit, a suggestion for her to continue.
“It’s a different situation, obviously… but I was so close to jumping into that coffin after her myself. And Martin lost you for a while there. I was in the same boat. I understand why… he might be scared.”
“You think he’s scared of me?” Jon’s voice was strained. Basira shook her head. “I think he’s scared that he lost you once and he doesn’t want to again.”
“I’m right here, though,” Jon protested weakly. Basira shrugged. She patted Daisy’s stomach. “So is she. Fear still is, too.”
“That’s different. At least you’re here ,” he broke off with a guilty expression. “I know that isn’t fair. I know he has his own plans, he’s doing something, something , I just…”
Basira let him talk, thinking it over.
“You just miss him,” she supplied. Jon exhaled softly.
“We kissed, before the Unknowing, I think you walked in on us. I don’t know if you remember,” he flushed slightly when Basira raised her eyebrows. She remembered pulling open the door to his office, her own mouth still bruised with kisses and marks hidden high on her collarbones, to find the two of them tangled around each other like teenagers. She hadn’t said much then, but she’d felt bad for them.
“You love him?” she asked.
He nodded tightly. Surprisingly certain. She clucked her tongue.
“Maybe it’ll work out.”
He almost smiled. “Daisy’s new optimism is rubbing off, huh?”
Basira huffed. “Yeah. Sure.”
“It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Jon murmured wistfully. “If everything worked out.”
If Martin would pull himself back from the brink of whatever he was teetering on. If Daisy woke up tomorrow, full and whole and not wasting away in slow motion before Basira’s eyes. If Jon didn’t always look like he was staring at her from the corner of her eye, even when there was no way he could be.
Sometimes Basira had no idea how she’d ended up where she had. She’d made every decision, she knew that, looked around every shadowy door and returned every kiss Daisy had ever pressed against her lips. And yet here she was, and sometimes it was a concept so alien to her that she figured she must be on the verge of waking up, realizing none of it was real.
Daisy was real, though. She still felt solid. She was still her fixed point, no matter how different the two of them might be now. Whatever that was worth anymore. Basira knew how much Daisy had changed. She might be the only one left alive who knew. For whatever that was worth, too.
Basira felt for the fingers rested against her shoulder. She took Daisy’s hand, felt for each small scar and imperfection carved into her skin.
“You do that a lot,” Jon remarked, and Basira met his eyes again. She shook her head slightly to show her confusion.
“Not in public- well, since the coffin, yes, but not before, but-” he paused as Daisy mumbled something indistinct in her sleep.
“What?” Basira asked, once she’d settled again. Jon shrugged. “You always touch her when you’re unsure about something. Her hair or her hand, usually.”
Basira felt a bit of embarrassment creep up at being found out so easily.
“Do I?” she bit back the retort that was begging to be dragged up from the defensive part of herself locked firmly in her gut. She and Daisy had been much more open with their… whatever , since the coffin. Relationship, probably, even though they’d never called it that, or anything, really. Basira remembered Melanie’s not-so-subtle questions before the coffin, but she had usually played dumb to those. She hadn’t been sure if she trusted Melanie, and she and Daisy had always been private above all else.
After the coffin, though, Melanie had invited Basira and Daisy over to Georgie’s house for a double date , not a glimpse of uncertainty in her expression when she’d offered. There hadn’t really been a reason to say no. Basira didn’t see much of a point for professional discretion anymore, not after everything they’d all been through. It was probably fine that she and Daisy were a little more open now. It wasn’t like they were going to get fired. Still, Basira had always seen Daisy as the more affectionate one of the two of them. There was just a sense of security in touching her, holding her hand or her neck or silently kissing her temple when they listened to other people talk.
Basira was quiet for a while as she contemplated. Jon must’ve taken her silence for contempt because he’d gone a little pale. He was fiddling with the drawstrings of Martin’s hoodie again, staring at her almost desperately.
“Was that too much?” he asked uncertainly. “I know we aren’t friends, I’m sorry if-”
“Jon, it’s alright. I’m just thinking, is all. You’re good.” she hesitated. “We could… be friends. Maybe. One day.”
He raised his eyebrows wryly. “Even if I’m a monster?” his voice was hesitant.
She sighed and pressed her lips together for a moment.
“I think, if you do turn out to be a monster… you wouldn’t be the worst thing out there. Not by a long shot.” She glanced up at Daisy, and then back at him. “You love her. So do I.” She shrugged. “We could be friends one day.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Jon’s mouth, and Basira returned the small gesture. It was absurd, she knew that, for the both of them to be lying in the same woman’s arms and contemplating if they could ever be friends.
Somehow, they’d both ended up as the two most important people in Daisy’s life. So maybe it was worth considering. Just a little. Jon might be a monster, but so was Daisy. So was Basira, in a lot of ways. She thought maybe she could deal with that.
Daisy’s skin beat with life. That was enough for now.
Maybe she would be okay with the rest of it tomorrow.