Vaggie laid on the bed, Charlie long lost in a blissful slumber. She was comfortably snuggled against the angel’s chest, blond hair tickling her nose with each breath. Vaggie’s arms were wrapped around the taller woman, her wings out and in full display, covering their bodies like a cocoon. As she felt her own eyelid getting heavy, the angel soon started to drift off to sleep. But when she opened her eye again, she wasn’t in bed with Charlie; she was in a cold and dark alley, dressed in her Exorcist uniform, bloody spear at hand. She inhaled deeply as she heard the background screams of pain and horror, of flesh being torn apart. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared behind her, wings out in a powerful display, a glowing halo on its head. For someone whose figure was supposed to be the embodiment of everything divine and holy, Lute’s vision seemed the exact opposite, leaving Vaggie wide eyed and with a gut-wrecking fear of what she knew was about to come next.
The excruciating pain of having her wings and eye being torned apart was something she would never be able to forget in all of her immortal life. But worse than the pain itself was the emptiness that settled upon her chest everytime she moved her back bones and remembered her wings were no longer there. When she blinked, applied eyeshadow, or squeezed her eye shut and realized that a part of her was missing; that when she looked at the mirror, only half of her was there; the other lay somewhere in that dark alley, putrid flesh covered in blood, consumed by bugs and long forgotten amist Hell’s trash cans.
And because Vaggie no longer wanted to feel that pain, she focused on her lover’s steady breaths, listening to the sound of her heartbeat until she was able to calm herself down and focus on the present. She thought of Charlie’s delicious perfume, how she always smelled like cinnamon and apples and how that smell alone felt more like home than Heaven ever could. She thought of her girlfriend’s laugh after hearing Angel cracking another one of his dirty and inappropriate jokes. She thought of the crow’s nest, how the endless bloodlike sky seemed to only make the stars and planets on it shine harder, and how breathtaking the view was. She thought of the soft smile on her face after she caught Nifty and KeeKee taking a nap on her wings while she was distracted. She thought of Lucifer’s solidary hand on her shoulder when they both talked about the inner wounds that never heal after you become a Fallen Angel. She thought of her friend's agitation in the morning at the front lobby, the familiar chaos that felt more like a routine to her than any extensive period of training she went through as an Exorcist. She thought of the late nights she and Charlie sneaked on the balcony to slow dance to old songs playing in Alastor’s vintage radio under the blazing moonlight, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, hand in hand, foreheads touching, eyes blissfully closed, breathing in each other’s presence and closure. She felt the thickles of the feather’s of her wings against her nose, and remembered she was always whole, missing limbs or not.
“Vaggie?” Charlie's sleepy voice brought her back to the present. She had her eyelids barely open, clearly losing a battle against the fatigue of a long day of running a recently reinaugurated hotel.
“Perdoname, Cariño. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” she answered and placed a soft kiss on the top of Charlie’s head.
“It’s okay. I noticed your heart was beating faster. Did something startle you?”
“Just a nightmare”, Vaggie whispered.
“Do you want to talk about it?”, Charlie gently asked, eyes filled with worry and a slight hint of curiosity. “No”, was all Vaggie could muster.
She trusted Charlie with all of her being. Her girlfriend knew each and every one of her insecurities, fears, worries and concerns. After her secret had been revealed at the Angel’s Court, there was officially nothing else left between them. She felt safe enough to be vulnerable with Charlie, to place her heart in her hands and trust it would be handled with care and love. Opening up to her wasn’t the issue; even though she knew it didn’t matter how hard Charlie tried, she would never fully understand Vaggie’s trauma because they came from very different backgrounds. But that never stopped Charlie from listening to her and holding her close whenever she needed to vent or just reflect on whatever was troubling her. From being there for her. But at the moment, Vaggie was exhausted. As much as she loved Charlie, she didn’t have the energy it required to open up and share her thoughts and concerns.
“Okay”, Vaggie felt a bit of sting upon hearing Charlie’s slightly sad and disappointed tone at her reply. That feeling gave way to a bubliness in her chest when Charlie wrapped her arms around her neck, buried her head at the crock of Vaggie’s neck and whispered: “I love you. More than anything”.
Vaggie let out a long breath she wasn’t even aware she was holding. She squeezed Charlie’s back, bringing her impossibly closer, and squinted her eye harshly, trying to hold back the tears.
“Charlie?” She softly called out her lover. Her only response was a loud snore indicating that her girlfriend had long already passed out. Vaggie chuckled and breathed in heavily, letting her head hit the pillow with a thud. And she held Charlie. She held her as her eye drifted close, as her limbs became tangled with her lover’s, as their hearts began to beat at the same rhythm, enthralled by the very feeling of yearning and fondness they both shared.
