“My greatest honor is simply watching you live as yourself.”
As much as Sage often wished that Viper took more breaks, she had to admit that there was something oddly enthralling about watching her work.
Viper moved with a certain sort of grace in her lab as she flitted between projects and experiments. She always looked to be doing a hundred things at once, yet each task was given seemingly single-minded focus. Sage had no idea how Viper did it, in all honesty—the work appeared exhausting, both mentally and physically, considering how Viper rarely ever sat down unless she was doing paperwork.
Still, her point stood; Viper worked with the same skill and efficiency with which she breathed, and Sage found it fascinating.
Often, she kept to the infirmary during the day so that the others could find her easily if she were needed, but on occasion, she liked to bring her paperwork into Viper’s lab. It was…calming, almost, to exist in the same space as Viper, even if they weren’t actually talking. And, if she happened to finish her work early, then what was the harm in admiring her girlfriend’s work ethic?
The only thing that ever really stopped her was Viper herself. She didn’t get irritated like she used to, but she still had an eerie sixth-sense for when she was being watched. There’d been multiple times when she caught Sage staring without even looking up from whatever project she was busy with at the time. So, unfortunately, Sage was forced to keep her observation short, or at least just short enough for Viper to not bother calling her out on it. Sage practically had an internal timer for it at this point.
Her habit of watching Viper work aside, Sage appreciated whatever time she got to spend with Viper, whether the chemist was busy or not. She even started stashing her favorite tea in one of Viper’s drawers, and although Viper paused the first time she saw the item, she didn’t protest the addition to her workspace. Sage was trying to slowly convert her to drinking tea rather than coffee, but she had yet to be successful, unfortunately.
What she was making progress with, thankfully, was getting Viper to work less. Viper’s schedule was about as strict as the woman herself, much to Sage’s dismay—honestly, twenty minutes for each meal was not long enough if you asked her— but she’d realized long ago that if she made small, gradual changes, then Viper would allow said schedule to bend slightly. For example, a few months ago, Sage began to ask Viper to stop working for the night two minutes earlier than Viper’s scheduled work time ended, which was, astoundingly, at one in the morning.
Viper had glanced at her watch hesitantly, but allowed herself to be led out of her lab. Ever since then, Sage has been slowly asking her to call it a night earlier and earlier. Whether Viper didn’t notice or simply allowed the change was uncertain, but regardless, she’d officially begun ending her work day at midnight as of last week. That still meant that she only got a scant five and a half hours of sleep, but it was still better than the meager four and half she used to get. Small mercies.
Sage also may have asked Brimstone to lighten Viper’s workload slightly. It had to be done incrementally and with extreme caution, which Sage found out the hard way after Viper noticed their plan and gave Brimstone a ‘stern talking to’ about having faith in her ability to complete her assigned duties, but it was possible. After that particular incident, they were much more careful, and Viper’s weekly stack of paperwork was about half the size it used to be. Still, it only made a dent in the amount of time she spent in her lab.
Unfortunately, the vast majority of Viper’s work was given to her by herself and her own ambition alone. And even if it wasn’t, she still had an almost inhuman ability to read and write documents and reports swiftly. Again, Sage was at a loss. It was a wonder that Viper could even function living the way she did, let alone fulfill all her tasks at the quality she did.
But alas. Small steps, as it were. Sage was just happy to be making progress, and she was mildly proud of herself that her multiple schemes had yet to be discovered.
Or she had been, until on a random day it all came crashing down.
As usual, she’d gotten up from her now-typical spot on the couch Viper kept in her lab, and said, “Alright, I’m heading to bed. Come with me?”
Viper nodded absentmindedly, turning away from her centrifuge with a sigh. Sage waited patiently at the door to her lab, ready to leave, when for the first time in months, Viper happened to glance down at her watch. Nearly in sync, they both froze for entirely different reasons.
Slowly, Viper looked up from her watch and sweeped her eyes across the room as if seeing it for the first time. Sage watched in real time as she noted the small changes that’d been made without her notice—Sage’s small corner that she claimed for herself, the way the once-piercingly bright fluorescent lights were dimmed, the small assortment of snacks that Sage kept strategically within arm’s reach of Viper’s desk, and, most notably, her suspiciously thin stack of paperwork.
Sage was sure that Viper had seen all of these things before, but it was clear from her body language that only now was she putting all the pieces together. Viper’s narrowed eyes finally landed on Sage, and she couldn’t have kept the guilty smile off her face if she tried. She wasn’t expecting Viper to snap at her or anything, but she knew how much Viper valued her work and sharp perception, both of which Sage had outmatched, however well-intentioned she was.
“You,” Viper started before pausing, seemingly at a loss for words. She looked around the room again, quicker this time, her brow furrowing. “When…?”
Sage wasn’t sure what to say, too surprised by Viper’s mellow reaction to really come up with a good response. She only shrugged, still smiling. After a long moment, Viper just sighed, pulling off her lab coat and gloves before walking to Sage’s side and turning off the lights in her lab.
She could feel Viper’s eyes on her as they walked back to her quarters, some unnamed emotion swirling in them. It was only when they arrived at her room that Viper’s gaze finally left her. Viper’s lips pulled into a small smile, and she shook her head, a disbelieving laugh echoing softly into the room.
Maybe tomorrow she would be more irritated at Sage’s deception—maybe tomorrow she would do away with some of these changes and ‘fix’ what Sage had so painstakingly built. But for now…
“Clever,” Viper murmured, a rare and stunning sort of light dancing in her eyes. To Sage, it sounded an awful lot like “I love you.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“The list of things I wouldn't do for you is terrifyingly small.”
“You can’t be serious,” Viper said through gritted teeth, narrowing her eyes at Brimstone. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She knew that disobeying orders was a bad idea, but what she did was for the team’s benefit, and it worked out in the end anyway. All of her plans always did—she didn’t understand why Brimstone was overreacting so much. Even Sage, who stood silently next to Brimstone’s desk, looked displeased at his decision.
“What you did was reckless, Sabine,” Brimstone replied, his jaw set with resolve. “It’s not about if you were successful or not, it’s about the fact that you disobeyed direct orders and put Sage’s safety above the rest of the team’s.”
“It wasn’t reckless,” she insisted, crossing her arms to hide her clenching fists. “They can look after themselves, and Sage should be prioritized, seeing as she’s the only one in the protocol who can revive people—” Brimstone raised a hand, and with extreme reluctance, Viper fell silent.
“You won’t change my mind. You’re being taken off the mission rotation until I say otherwise. Is that understood?” Viper could practically feel a vein in her forehead pulsing with her anger. What right does he have to make these decisions, as if she didn’t co-found the damn protocol with him? She took a menacing step forward, scowling.
“No, I don’t give a—”
“Sabine!” Sage snapped, finally stepping away from her spot and coming to a stop between her and Brimstone. Immediately, Viper froze, looking at Sage incredulously as her mouth snapped shut with an audible click. “That’s enough.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, Viper thought, suppressing the urge to snarl. “Sage,” she warned.
Sage only glared back, grabbing Viper’s bicep and dragging her to the door of Brimstone’s office. Viper let herself be shoved out into the hallway, turning to face Sage and hoping that her expression conveyed the correct amount of anger she felt. If it did, Sage didn’t react.
“I will sort this out,” she whispered to Viper, her own annoyance evident. “You stay out here and calm down.”
Viper glanced between Sage’s imploring face and Brimstone’s. As much as she hated to admit it, Sage was right—clearly she was too worked up to be having what should be a professional conversation. But that didn’t mean she appreciated being manhandled out of the way or shut up like a pet. In fact, had it been anyone but Sage, Viper would have already threatened to murder them for their insolence.
“You’re lucky I love you,” she finally whispered back, giving Sage one last withering look before putting some distance between her and Brimstone’s office. She heard Sage scoff before shutting the door behind her, and that was that.
She was not pouting, damn it.
However, as the minutes ticked by and she leaned against the cool wall of the underground hallway housing Brimstone’s office, she could admit that maybe she was the one who was overreacting. She didn’t regret anything she did on the mission, of course. She would’ve rather died than allowed the team to retreat to the extraction point without Sage, in fact, she nearly did. Still, her behavior just now was less than appropriate of someone befitting her station within the protocol. It was, in all honesty, irrational. She wasn't even certain why she was so upset.
Viper sighed, knowing even in her own head that it was a lie.
She understood exactly why Brimstone decided to punish her the way he did. He would’ve done the same for any other agent, and any other time, Viper was sure that she would’ve agreed with him. The only difference, this time, is that it was about Sage.
It wasn’t entirely clear whether Sage’s…less than stellar self-esteem was Viper’s doing or something that Sage struggled with even before they met. But regardless, Viper despised any insinuation that Sage was any less valuable or competent than anyone else in the protocol. It didn’t matter if that insinuation was made by Sage herself or implied by one of the others—Viper would not tolerate it.
And, even if it wasn’t actually the case, it felt as though punishing Viper for prioritizing Sage was Brimstone’s way of saying, “she wasn’t worth that.” Was that what Brimstone meant? Probably not. But that didn’t stop indignation from rising in Viper’s throat and coming out as barbed words, nor did it stop her from swearing at her boss, apparently.
Viper sighed, dragging a hand down her face as she gazed out a window in the small hallway at the darkening afternoon sky. Sage had been right to kick her out of his office, whether she liked it or not. Still, she stood by the decisions she’d made on the battlefield.
She didn’t have to wait long for Sage to emerge from Brimstone’s office. It wasn’t clear if that was evidence of Sage’s expert skills in persuasion or Brimstone’s steadfast resolve, but Viper was glad either way. She didn’t really care about the punishment, not anymore. She was more preoccupied with Sage’s apparent fatigue as she walked to the stairs leading to the range.
“So?” Viper prompted with only slight snark. Sage rolled her eyes, beckoning Viper to her side with a sigh. Viper pushed away from the wall where she’d been leaning on it, waiting for an explanation.
“You’re only suspended for a week, no thanks to your behavior in there,” Sage said, shooting her a small glare with no real heat behind it. Viper blinked in surprise. That’s less time than I was expecting. She took Sage’s hand, entwining their fingers in the only unspoken apology Viper could bring herself to give.
“I hope you know I don’t plan on letting you get away with what you pulled in there,” Viper said airily, squeezing Sage’s hand just a little too tightly and raising a single eyebrow. Sage hummed, looking her up and down, before an involuntary grin tugged at her lips.
“I look forward to it,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Even as Viper narrowed her eyes, internally she grinned.
She loved a good challenge.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“You may be broken, a dazzling gem now covered in cracks—but oh, how I love to watch light shine through your hairline fractures.”
Perhaps Sage should’ve been expecting it. They both had their bad days, and given Viper’s poor opinion of herself, it was bound to pop up at some point. In her defense, though, it hadn’t seemed like a bad day. Viper had been oddly silent, but that was the only thing amiss.
So when, mid-experiment, Viper suddenly asked, “Sage, do you ever wish you never met me?” it was safe to say she was a little surprised.
That is to say, she nearly choked on her sip of tea, her eyes wide as saucers as she looked up at her girlfriend in shock. Did I hear that right? Viper’s voice had been deceptively casual—nonchalant for all intents and purposes. Sage scanned her for any signs of anxiety or uncertainty, but Viper betrayed nothing but detached curiosity.
It was then that Sage realized, her stomach sinking with dread, that Viper was intentionally masking whatever it was she felt about the topic. She was shutting Sage out. It stung, but not as much as the question itself did.
Recovering quickly, Sage set down her cup of tea, her eyes still locked on Viper where she stood at a nearby counter, mixing some sort of bluish-green concoction. “No,” she said slowly, “why do you ask?”
“I treated you terribly for years,” Viper replied matter-of-factly, not pausing once where she worked on the other side of her lab.
“Maybe,” Sage allowed, “but you don't give yourself enough credit. You may have threatened me and insulted me a lot, but you still…cared, in your own way. You made sure I was okay when it mattered.”
“That doesn't excuse it,” Viper replied just a little too vehemently. The first crack in her composure. Sage’s brow furrowed, her lips thinning.
“I never said it did. Sabine, what is this about?” Sage knew that there must've been a reason that she brought this up, something more to the question that Viper wasn't saying. Sage just didn't know what it was, let alone how to help.
Instead of answering the question, Viper insisted, “It was years.”
Sage couldn't tell if she was imagining the tightness in Viper’s voice or not, but she was beginning to get suspicious of the way the other woman was still carefully turned away from her. She wondered, dread twisting in her stomach, if Viper purposely engineered the situation just so she wouldn't have to make eye contact while they spoke.
“And you apologized—”
“You deserve more than an apology!” Viper yelled, the beaker in her hands shattering against the counter where she slammed it down.
Sage was on her feet in seconds, rushing over to Viper’s side and pulling her away from the mess of glass and liquid. Viper was eerily still, not fighting in the slightest as Sage moved her. Her eyes never left the glass shards on the floor the entire time.
Viper didn't seem to be cut at all, thankfully. Sage would clean up the mess herself, but she had no idea what the substance was, and she certainly didn't want to risk cutting herself on the glass.
“I didn't mean to yell.” Sage glanced over at the sound of Viper's quiet voice, frowning at the near empty quality of it.
Viper was tense, her face tight with regret. She didn't tear up—Sage wasn't surprised, considering she'd only ever seen Viper cry a handful of times, mostly after nightmares—but she appeared dangerously close to doing so.
“I know you didn't,” Sage said softly, staring for a moment before grabbing Viper’s hand and guiding her over to the couch on the other side of the room. Again, Viper did nothing to stop her. Her unresponsiveness was about as unsettling as her pointed questions had been.
As Sage carefully sat down next to Viper, her brow knitted with worry, she thought over Viper’s words again. Something about the last thing Viper said irked her.
‘You deserve.’ Deserve. It wasn't the first time Viper had used the word, in fact, Sage distinctly remembered Viper saying it the first time she tried to push her away.
So that's what this is? Sage sighed, glancing at Viper once more. Viper sat with her head in one hand, covering her eyes, while the other stayed clenched into a fist at her side.
“Sabine,” Sage called softly. Viper didn't look up at her, only making a small sound of acknowledgment. “You're trying to scare me away.”
That got a reaction. Viper finally dropped her hand, peering at Sage with a single, tired eye. “No, I'm not,” she denied.
Any other day, Sage would've believed her. Leading up to this moment, Viper had been doing well—they both had. It seemed, to Sage at least, that they both felt secure in their relationship. So what changed? Unless…
Sage offered her hand, relief flooding through her when Viper actually took it. She entwined their fingers together, giving Viper a sad smile.
“Yes, you are,” she said, not unkindly. Viper just shut her eyes, the muscle in her jaw flexing. Up close, it was easy to see how tense she still was, how the circles under her eyes were darker than usual.
“I know,” Viper finally whispered. “I'm sorry.”
As proud as Sage was of her girlfriend, she still hated it whenever Viper apologized. It felt…wrong, to hear any sort of guilt-laced apology fall from her lips. Sage scooted closer, letting go of Viper’s hand in favor of nestling into her side. Viper automatically lifted an arm to make room for her, but just in case, Sage still asked, “Is this okay?”
Eyes still closed, Viper only nodded.
“Talk to me, please.” Sage was doing her best, but it was clear that she wasn't actually the problem here. “What's wrong?”
At first, Viper said nothing. If they hadn’t been together as long as they had, Sage would think she was annoyed. Her behavior could certainly be interpreted that way. But Sage knew better—she could tell from Viper’s arm around her alone that the only person Viper was frustrated with was herself.
“I'm just…having a hard day,” Viper finally ground out, as if the words themselves had thorns that scratched her throat. It was likely the closest she’d ever get to admitting that she was struggling, and even though it was a small sacrifice, a short glimpse of vulnerability, Sage still cherished it regardless.
There were times when being vulnerable was terrifying to even Sage. She couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for someone like Viper, someone who the world had scorned time and time again despite all the good they'd done for it.
But still, somehow, Viper was trying for her. She still had a long way to go, but she was trying.
“Okay,” Sage said softly. “How about we just sit here for a while, then? I'll make you tea.”
Viper didn't care for tea, nor did she tolerate wasting time. It was telling, then, that she only exhaled shakily and whispered, “I'd like that.”
Sage leaned just a little more into Viper’s side, and pretended not to notice when Viper pressed closer to her in turn.
She’d like that, too.
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“I have long since accepted that I am nothing more than a fighting dog to be weaponized. But, well, if I could choose—
Then I would prefer it if you were the one to hold my leash.”
Viper’s aptitude for the battlefield was something of a peculiarity amongst the protocol. It’s not that her abilities were necessarily out of place in comparison to the other agents, but rather the fact that she was the one who possessed them. It was natural for a hired assassin to have good aim, just as it was natural for Radiant with soul-sucking powers to excel at terminating her enemies. It was not natural, however, for a chemist who has never once touched a gun to be so efficient at taking the lives of others.
Still, no one batted an eye at her odd inclination for murder. Well, almost no one. Regardless, it didn’t make any significant difference aside from the fact that she was dispatched on more missions than the average agent. Viper didn’t think about it often—while she wasn’t as eager to kill as she liked to act in front of the others, she also wasn’t particularly averse to the idea of so much blood on her hands.
After all, what was a drop of blood on a past already painted in crimson?
In any case, her reputation as an unstoppable force on the battlefield was one she’d painstakingly cultivated, and any consequence that came from that was no one’s fault but her own. If the others saw her as an unfeeling, if not enthusiastic, executioner, then who was she to correct them? If no one expected anything but violence from her, then why would she attempt to do anything less?
Even Reyna, someone who actually did harbor a strong desire to harm others, was known as more humane. Gekko and Neon’s work, no doubt, but a fact nonetheless. Viper, on the other hand, had no such influence.
Before Sage, at least. Under the healer’s watchful gaze, Viper could admit that she…softened, minutely. Uttered less threats, allowed herself to commend her teammates more often rather than criticizing them. Sage could only do so much to improve her image, though, and the fact remained that Viper was as efficient on the field as ever.
And so, Brimstone would assign her a task, and Viper would complete it with little complaint. And so, Brimstone would say, “Viper, there was another alert of enemies in LA,” and Viper would reply, “Who’s going to be on my team?”
If Sage was the protocol’s shield, their ‘glue,’ then Viper was their sword. A sharpened blade designed to exploit cracks in the enemy’s armor. The dynamic was solidified long ago, and she doubted it would ever change.
But there were times, few and far between, that Viper actually delighted in her role. A common thread emerged, eventually: Sage. Viper would be embarrassed if anyone else had noticed, but thankfully, no one had. Yet.
In the meantime, she enjoyed herself. They would go on their missions, play their parts. And when, once in a while, the enemy truly angered Sage—
When Neon or Jett was lying dead on the ground, and Sage had both fury and tears in her eyes, her gaze turning on Viper—
When she nodded at the woman she loved, as if giving her permission—
Well. Viper was happy to please her girlfriend. If Sage truly wanted to hear their enemies scream, wanted to hear them beg, then Viper would gladly provide her with a symphony of suffering to listen to.
And, when Sage’s little proteges were healed and her anger had cooled, and she’d finally had her fill of cruelty, she would tell Viper that she’d done enough. And, dutifully, Viper would finally put their pathetic Omega Earth counterparts out of their misery. She would allow Sage to urge her on and reel her back in as needed, and she would do it with a smile on her face.
Sage was someone who lacked any true wrath, but that was fine. Viper had enough wrath for the both of them.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“I delight in giving. It has always been a part of me, my ability and willingness to devote all I am to a cause. Truly, I adore helping others.
More than that, though, I love that I am able to be selfish with you.”
When Sage woke up, it was to the sound of banging on her door and an extremely irritable Viper groaning in her ear. Why me, Sage thought, lamenting her loss of the serene bliss of sleep.
“Remind me why we're sleeping in your room?” Viper rasped, one arm thrown over her eyes while the other stayed stubbornly wrapped around Sage’s waist. Sage sat up, yawning as she squinted at her alarm clock. 3am? Seriously?
“In case someone needed me,” Sage replied through gritted teeth. If no one was actively dying, she might punch someone. It would be one thing if only Sage’s sleep was getting interrupted, but Viper too? She hardly got any sleep as it was. Sage sighed. “Go back to sleep, Sabine.”
“I will– once they leave,” Viper replied, her voice muffled through the pillow she was currently trying to bury her face in. Sage didn't bother arguing, only tying her hair into a messy ponytail and standing. She had to forego her usual hairpiece, but she didn’t particularly care. She just wanted to go back to sleep.
Don't get her wrong, Sage liked helping others. She liked spending time with the younger agents, and she loved being the agent that everyone felt comfortable going to, whether the issue was a physical or emotional one.
But she was tired.
“Sage?” Raze’s voice rang out just outside her bedroom door.
“One moment,” she bit out, trying her best to suppress her irritation. Finally, she opened the door, squinting as the harsh lighting of the hallway spilled into the comforting darkness of her room. Faintly, she heard Viper groan behind her, and she winced. Sorry, bǎobèi.
Seeing the small group of adults outside her room had never sparked such bitterness in her before. Sage sighed, one hand on her hip as she regarded them in all their guilty, panicked glory.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she whispered harshly. She looked between all of them, trying to adequately convey her disappointment, but her gaze lingered on Neon and Jett. Why did the reckless ones always end up being her favorites?
“I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Neon spoke up first, an ashamed blush high on her cheeks. Before she could continue, Raze cut her off, smiling nervously.
“But we need your help! We may have accidentally burned some important documents—” Yoru clamped his hand over her mouth, giving Sage a thin smile as he roughly squeezed Raze’s shoulder.
“What she means to say is that Phoenix's dumba—”
“Stop,” Sage ordered, already feeling a headache forming. How did they have this much energy? All at once, the small group fell silent. “How did this happen?”
Jett laughed nervously, side eyeing Yoru as she yanked his hand off Raze’s face. “Funny you should ask that. So we were binge-watching Avatar, and Phoenix got the bright idea of trying to act like a firebender. Thing is, we may have forgotten that there are…flammable… things around—”
“—So some maybe-important, maybe-not-important papers may have been set on fire,” Neon continued, practically hiding behind Clove. “Please don't be mad.”
Sage turned to Clove, waiting to hear whatever their contribution was, but they just shrugged. “Don't look at me, I told them this was all a terrible idea.”
The others immediately shot them a betrayed look, each of them already beginning to argue indignantly, and Sage’s delicate patience snapped.
“Enough!” she demanded. It wasn’t a yell, per se, because Sage despised yelling, but it was the most she'd ever raised her voice in front of the younger agents before. They quieted instantly, looking at Sage with wide eyes. “What do you even want me to do about this? And where is Phoenix?”
When no one spoke up right away, Clove rolled their eyes, patting Neon’s hand where it was still wrapped tightly around their bicep. “He's in the common room with Gekko, trying to beg Fade for mercy.”
Fade’s work is what they burned? No wonder they were so anxious. But that still didn't fully answer her question. As if sensing her irritation, Neon rushed to explain, “You were just the first person we thought of. We just didn't really…know what to do? Especially if Fade was assigned something really important…”
Neon trailed off, her eyes widening as she hid behind Clove even more. In fact, all of their eyes widened, save for Clove’s, and Jett even took a nervous step back. For a moment, Sage was confused, but then she turned, and—
Ah. That would do it.
Viper stood menacingly behind Sage to her left, only partially illuminated by the hallway’s light from where she was standing. Half-bathed in shadow, face twisted into the most cutting glare Sage had seen in nearly a year, and her arms crossed, Viper made quite the picture.
Everyone finally silent, Viper stepped forward, raking her eyes over the assembled agents and gritting her teeth.
“Is anyone injured?” she asked. Jett raised a weak hand, as if requesting permission to speak. Viper nodded at her.
“We’re not… entirely sure—” Viper clicked her tongue, and Jett shrank back, shutting up.
“Have you seen blood, heard screaming, or had anyone pass out?” Viper looked around again, daring anyone to say yes. No one spoke up. “No? Great,” she sneered, wrapping a firm arm around Sage’s waist and pulling her back inside her room, “then find someone else to deal with it.”
With that, she practically slammed her fist into the keypad to Sage’s door, effectively shutting it. On the other side, Sage could hear the others making their escape, walking away as fast as they could.
“Was that really necessary?” Sage asked, turning to Viper and not bothering to conceal her relief. Viper huffed, urging Sage to turn around with a light push of her shoulder before carefully taking her hair out of its ponytail again.
“Does it matter? It worked.” It was almost jarring, how differently Viper spoke to her in comparison to how she’d acted just a minute ago. Any trace of anger had been washed away, and now Viper just appeared tired. As Sage’s hair fell over her shoulders once more, freed from the confines of her hair tie, Viper sighed and pulled her into a hug from behind.
“They didn’t mean any harm,” Sage insisted, laughing softly as Viper pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Viper always got so clingy when she was drowsy. She slowly shuffled back over to the bed, bringing her girlfriend with her in the process. Viper hummed dubiously.
“Still. How often do they just…show up at your door like this?” she muttered, laying down and dragging Sage down with her. Sage smiled, readjusting herself so that her hair wasn’t trapped under her torso. Viper let out a deep, content sigh, pulling her closer and curling around her. Sage’s smile widened, warm affection blossoming in her chest.
“Not…too often. Usually it’s not this late, and certainly not such a large group.” She may get visited once or twice daily at the infirmary, but they only ever came to her room when it was an emergency, thankfully. Or at least what they considered to be an emergency, which happened to occur about once a week.
Sage was startled from her thoughts by a harsh pinch to her side, and she gasped, shooting Viper a glare over her shoulder.
“You coddle them,” Viper said, deadpan, not even having the decency to look remorseful. Sage opened her mouth to argue, but Viper shook her head, cutting her off before she could even start. “I don’t want to hear it. You need to set some boundaries– and make it clear when their presence isn’t welcomed.”
Sage let the silence sit for a moment, unsure if she should bother. After a while, all she had to offer was a weak, “What if they need my help?”
She couldn’t see Viper since she was facing the other way, but Sage could practically feel her rolling her eyes. “They’re adults. Immature ones, but adults nonetheless. They’ll figure it out…” Viper let out a long yawn, “with or without you.”
Really…Sage couldn’t argue with that logic. What was the harm in forcing the others to be a little more independent? And, if she were being honest, maybe she was just the slightest bit pleased that someone cared so much about her time and comfort.
“By the way,” Viper started suddenly, just as Sage was about to fall back asleep, “we’ll be sleeping in my room from now on.”
Sage chuckled softly, raising one of Viper’s hands to her mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles in silent agreement. A few seconds later, she was asleep.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“I can't say I'm inclined to change; I'm a creature of habit, prone to getting lost in the past.
But, for you, I would learn how to welcome the new.”
Holding grudges, for better or for worse, was something that came naturally to Viper. It was easy enough to let go of small things, such as a mistake on the battlefield or a poorly timed comment, but when it truly mattered, her forgiveness couldn’t be pried from her even if she were tortured.
Everyone in the protocol knew this, whether they learned firsthand or someone else had the foresight to tell them. It was the very reason Cypher liked to prod at Viper’s defenses, but never stepped over the line. It was the very reason no one ever brought up the odd things Viper said when she was high on adrenaline and couldn’t quite stop herself from muttering cruel words to corpses. And, unfortunately, it was the reason Sage sometimes seemed…wary around her.
It wasn’t often, but there were times that Viper caught Sage’s eyes darting to her after reviving a teammate, as if ready for Viper to make a biting remark. Nights when Sage avoided her eyes, nervous and guilty for a reason Viper never quite understood. She did her best to soothe Sage’s worries with soft words and softer touches, but she could tell that Sage never fully banished whatever it was on her mind that caused her to act that way.
It was on a seemingly random night that Sage finally broke. It was no confession, no grand declaration of vulnerability—instead, Viper had been calmly reading in her quarters, and the painfully earnest words had spilled from Sage’s mouth as if she couldn’t stop them.
"I'm so sorry. For everything—for not being enough, back then."
Slowly, Viper lowered her book, her gaze shifting to where Sage stood in the small bathroom attached to her bedroom. From this angle, she couldn’t see Sage’s expression, but she could see enough. The tense line of Sage’s shoulders, her white-knuckled grip on the counter she was leaning over. If that wasn’t enough to give away her sincerity, then the waver to her voice certainly was.
Sage sounded…small. Painfully quiet in a way she never did, these days.
Viper let out a small sigh, fully putting down her book and walking to Sage’s side. Sage didn’t move in the slightest, still staring determinedly down at nothing, and so Viper grasped her arm with a gentle hand, turning her around. She inhaled sharply at the sight of tears in Sage’s eyes.
“...You have nothing to apologize for,” she whispered, raising her hands to cradle Sage’s face. Guilt flashed in Sage’s eyes, and when her tears finally fell, Viper wiped them away with her thumbs. She hated seeing Sage cry.
“I do,” Sage whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut, grasping one of Viper’s wrists in a loose hold, as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull her hand away or not. “I know that it was a long time ago, and that we’re on good terms, now, but…I still should have been able to do more. I should have been able to bring him back the right way.”
Her voice was thick with emotion, and with each passing second, Sage only got more upset. Her tears fell faster, and her grip on Viper’s wrist was bruising, now, but Viper made no motion to pull away. She was more preoccupied with Sage’s words.
Viper had thought they were past this—she knew that she certainly was. She didn’t realize that Sage was still harboring so much guilt over it, that she blamed herself to such a degree. But seeing Sage now, trembling in her bathroom on what should have been a relaxed night together, Viper felt like a fool to not have.
She leaned down, pressing their foreheads together.
“Look at me, Sage.” After a lengthy pause, Sage’s eyes opened and met hers. Viper had always admired the deep russet brown of Sage’s gaze, the vast amount of emotion reflected within it. “There was nothing more you could have done. Not back then. It isn’t your fault that your powers were still new at the time. You did as much as your abilities allowed, and that was enough.” She paused, mulling over the words in her head, before adding, “You were enough.”
Unable to bear the vulnerability of eye contact any longer, Sage hid her face in Viper’s neck, shuddering with the force of her quiet crying. Viper wrapped her arms around Sage’s back, embracing her properly. She didn’t say anything, and Viper knew the reaction for what it was: not denial, but certainly not acceptance.
She racked her brain for something she could say or do, anything, that would convince Sage in the slightest. Hearing Sage say these things, knowing that she probably afforded herself even less grace in the privacy of her own mind, made Viper’s heart ache in a way she couldn’t describe.
There was something about what Sage said earlier that bothered her. More than the obvious self-deprecation, the way that Sage said it bothered Viper. We’re on good terms— not “You don’t care anymore,” not “You’ve forgiven me.”
The thought made Viper pause. Had she forgiven Sage?
Her mind supplied the answer quicker than she’d been expecting: Yes.
And what point was there in fighting the truth? Viper had never forgiven anyone who truly wronged her in her entire life. Maybe Sage knew that, maybe she didn’t. Regardless, it was a fact. Sabine may have been kind, but second chances were not something even she provided, and Viper was far less compassionate in comparison. There was no point in granting courtesy to those who betrayed her trust or fell short of expectations, right?
But Sage was Sage. And truly, if anyone deserved compassion, especially Viper’s, then it was her.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Viper finally repeated, quieter, her throat tight. Her heart thundered in her chest, and for a moment, she wondered if Sage could feel it. “But even if you did,” she continued, breath hitching, “I forgive you.”
Sage froze in her arms, and for a long, tense moment, neither of them moved.
Then, slowly, Sage pressed a hand to her chest, pushing her away. Viper released her without complaint, waiting for her reaction with bated breath. Sage looked back up at her, eyes wide with disbelief as she searched her expression.
“You’ve never forgiven anyone before,” she whispered into the silence, and Viper offered her a small smile.
“Perhaps not. But you’re worth forgiving.” Viper leaned down, giving Sage ample time to pull away if she wanted, before pressing their lips together an unhurried and gentle kiss. At first Sage didn’t do anything at all, just standing there, and Viper genuinely worried that she’d made a mistake. But then Sage practically melted into her, kissing her back. Something in Viper’s chest eased at the action.
Sage pulled away before long, a smile on her face. It was a hesitant, weak thing, but a beautiful smile nonetheless. Her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, and Viper could only hope they were tears of a happier variety.
“I love you, Sabine,” Sage said softly as Viper took her hand and led her back to her bed. She’d never said it aloud, and she didn’t think she ever would, but Viper loved it when Sage called her by name. It made her feel…cherished.
In comparison to Sage, Viper wasn’t good with words. She preferred keeping to shorter sentences—impersonal phrases and guarded feelings. They were polar opposites in that way; it was easier for Viper if she just avoided talking about feelings altogether. But maybe Sage was rubbing off on her after all.
“I love you too,” Viper said, pulling Sage close.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“We spent so long denying ourselves the pleasure of indulgence, the beauty of affection. To be with you here, now, is an exquisite catharsis.”
If being in Viper's presence was riveting, then being with Viper was positively mesmerizing.
They'd been together for half a year, now, so really, Sage should've been used to seeing Viper like this. Breathless, quivering under her touch, completely at her mercy. And yet Sage never tired of it. How could she, when her lover was as captivating as she was?
It was a pleasure to be intimate with Viper in a way that Sage could never possibly articulate. She loved everything about it. Viper was an attentive and caring lover—until she wasn't, and Sage loved that too. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she cried the first time she climaxed under Viper’s dexterous hands.
It could have been because of their history, or perhaps despite their history, that they knew each other so well. Even here, in this context, it was easy for them to dissect each other and adapt to each other's needs. Viper always knew exactly what to do to make Sage fall apart, if that was what Sage so desired.
Whispered praise, the twist of a wrist, the drag of Viper’s canines over Sage’s pulse, and Sage was putty in her hands. In turn, Sage knew just how to reduce Viper to a shaking mess under her touch. A teasing feather-light touch over her ribcage, a hand in her hair, Sage’s mouth on her breast, and even Viper could beg.
They switched roles often, and while Sage would never complain about being on either end, she couldn't deny she preferred taking on a more dominant position. Aside from the fact that bringing Viper to her knees was empowering, Sage also delighted in the sheer trust Viper put in her. Viper was a prideful woman, not to mention someone with a harsh and bloody past. So to see her in such a vulnerable state, to be allowed to see her that way, was a privilege. A privilege that only Sage was given, to be precise.
It was an honor, and Sage intended to use it to its fullest capacity.
She adored the way Viper blushed, the way she arched into her touch. Viper was a sight to behold when her skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, and her eyes were dark and clouded with lust. Every point of contact burned in the best way; each sound that Sage drew from Viper’s lips was music to her ears.
“Sage,” Viper rasped, looking at her with concerned eyes. Immediately, Sage stilled. She blinked, shaking herself from her thoughts and instead refocusing on the gorgeous woman on top of her.
“Yes?” she replied, frowning. Viper looked her up and down, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips before pulling away.
“Are you alright?” she asked, voice still low and breathy with exertion. Sage’s brow pinched with confusion.
“Yes? Why, are—” Viper cut her off with another kiss, more heated this time, as she rolled her hips against Sage’s. Sage couldn't quite stifle her moan, her grip on Viper’s hips tightening.
“Then f*ck me like you mean it, damn it,” Viper demanded. Well, it was supposed to be a demand, Sage was sure. Unfortunately for Viper, her desperation was clear.
Sage couldn't help but smile. She noticed I was distracted? It was almost cute, but even so, she couldn't allow Viper to dictate how this night went.
“You're not the one in charge, bǎobèi.” While one hand stayed firmly on Viper’s hip to keep her from moving, the other rose to her face, cradling her cheek. Usually, Viper would appreciate the gesture, the gentle affection in it. But now, blushing down to her chest and trembling in Sage’s lap, she didn't seem nearly as pleased.
“Really?” Viper asked through gritted teeth. “You get distracted and now I have to—” she cut herself off with a low moan, and Sage grinned against her collarbone where she'd sucked a hickey into it.
“What was that?” Sage asked innocently, tilting her head.
“I'm going to kill you,” Viper gasped as Sage rolled her nipple between her fingers, as if her face wasn't twisted with pleasure, as if her nails weren't digging crescent-shaped indents into Sage’s back.
Sage just smiled.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“I have been betrayed by many, and in the cover of night, not even my own mind offers me mercy. There’s no one I would trust to see me, then; a victim in a hell of my own design.
No one, except for you.”
It was quiet.
Sabine shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was relatively late, and to her knowledge at least, she was the last one working. But still, there was something almost eerie about the silence. If she didn’t know any better, she would think she was being watched.
But, of course, Sabine did know better. So she simply kept to her work, running her tests as needed and marking her results. The minutes ticked by—quickly. Oddly quickly. What had she been planning to do tonight, again? For some reason, Sabine couldn’t remember. She assumed it would come back to her eventually. In the meantime, she could at least take a break and admire the rain.
Rain. Why did the sound of it make her feel so nervous? She felt like she was forgetting something. Sabine looked around the room again, but nothing new revealed itself. Nothing was different than any other night. Her lab was supposed to feel familiar to her, after all, she came here every day. But why, then, did this particular moment seem so—
Sabine’s eyes widened. The silence was suffocating, but it wasn’t silent, he’d made a noise, hadn’t he? She tried to move, but her feet wouldn’t budge. He would be here, any second now, with a knife in-hand, and why couldn’t she move? Had she even left the chamber open?
No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t in the same spot, she wouldn’t be able to push him in. But, no, he’d tripped. And she didn’t want to lock him in the chamber. She’d had no choice, he’d surprised her, but maybe this time—Sabine shook her head, trying to clear it, but nothing worked. What was going on?
Burning, searing pain. She screamed, but the sound was quickly cut off by liquid in her throat. What? Shakily, she brought a hand up to her chest, and for a split-second her fingers met metal before it was ripped away. Out, tearing through skin and bone, leaving nothing but red behind. She coughed, trying to press her hand against the wound, but it did nothing to stop the bleeding.
There was blood everywhere—her hands, in her mouth, on the floor. All she tasted was copper. Sabine tried to twist, to see her attacker, but there was no one there. When she looked back down, there was a knife in her hand, and her eyes widened as she dropped it.
It clattered to the floor, but she couldn’t hear it. It hurt. It hurt, even more sharp and stabbing with each passing second, but she couldn’t breathe through the pain, couldn’t breathe at all. She coughed, crimson gushing from the tear in her skin, but she couldn’t get any air—she could only choke on the warmth filling her lungs, her throat—
Viper woke up screaming.
Her shaking hands darted to her chest immediately, trying to staunch the bleeding, to stop the pain, but they only met smooth skin. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t really see with her vision blurred with tears, and she was thankful, because she couldn’t bear to see that sickening red again, to hear the rain outside and her own choking—
“Sabine,” a voice called urgently, breaking through the haze of her panic. Ling Ying? A violent sob tore from her throat, and she tried to sit up, but gentle hands stopped her, pushing her back down. She wanted to tell Sage not to touch her, not to dirty herself with all the red, but Viper couldn’t choke out the words. She was too busy trying to calm her shallow breathing.
“It’s okay,” Sage shushed her, voice soft. Her hands moved from Viper’s shoulders to her face, brushing her hair from her eyes. “You’re okay. Breathe, Sabine. It’s just us. It’s just me.”
“I-I can’t,” Viper gasped out, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing more tears out in the process. Her hands were still uselessly grasping at her chest, but Viper couldn’t bring herself to tear them away. Instead, she dug her nails into the delicate skin of her sternum, relishing in the pain it brought. Real, real, real.
“No, no– stop that,” Sage said, her voice still low and soothing as she pried Viper’s hands away from her skin. “Look at me, Sabine. Look at me.”
Finally, Viper forced her eyes open. It was slightly harder to see in the dark, but her vision cleared quickly, focusing on Sage where she laid next to her. Sage kept Viper’s hands in a gentle hold, rubbing soothing circles into her knuckles as she held eye contact. “You’re okay,” she repeated slowly. She glanced at Viper’s chest pointedly, and Viper followed her gaze, looking down at her unbroken skin. There were a few pink lines from where she’d dug her nails in, but that was it. “See?”
After a long moment, Viper nodded, another tear rolling down her cheek. Sage nodded too, a weak smile on her face. “Look around if you need to, but it’s just you and me. No one else, okay?”
Obediently, Viper scanned the dark room with wary eyes. But, true to Sage’s word, there was nothing to find. No one. The knot of dread and panic in her stomach finally began to ease, and for the first time since waking up, Viper inhaled a real, deep breath.
As if sensing her shift in mood, Sage’s smile widened, and she tucked herself into Viper’s side, wrapping an arm around her securely. “There you are,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to Viper’s shoulder.
Slowly coming back to herself, Viper wrapped an arm around Sage’s shoulders in return, resisting the urge to grit her teeth as her breathing evened out. Her other hand rose to cover her eyes, as if she could somehow hide the amount of tears that had already spilled from them.
What a pathetic thing to dream about.
Viper loathed nightmares—loathed their irrationality, loathed the state they left her in. Everything about them was pitiful. She even woke up Sage. Sage…
As much as Viper wished otherwise, the nightmares were unavoidable. There was no point in resenting that which couldn’t be stopped. But, if she had to deal with them, at least she didn’t have to do so in isolation. Not anymore, at least.
“Thank you,” Viper sighed, grimacing. A beat of silence, and then Sage’s hand met her own, gently pulling her hand away from her eyes.
“It’s my pleasure,” she whispered back, smiling.
The worst part was that Viper knew she meant it.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“It’s astounding that, of all the people in the world, of all the people you hide yourself away from, only I get to truly see you in your entirety.”
Viper and illness did not mix.
It's not that Viper didn't like being sick—that is, if she were even capable of getting sick, because in all the years they'd known each other Sage hadn't seen her catch so much as a cold. Rather, Viper disliked dealing with people who were sick.
Viper was by no means cruel, of course, and she'd never denied any of the agents the rest or medication they needed to recover from any illness. But her irritation was always clear, and even though she gave their fellow agents as much time off as they needed, she never spared a thought toward checking on them herself.
Sage knew all of this. After all, she was the one who Viper chose to complain to on the rare occasion one of the others somehow fell ill. Sage always told her to relax, reassuring her that whoever it was would recover soon, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Viper would simply roll her eyes, say “I know,” and return to her work. It was as perplexing as it was intriguing.
Perhaps she didn't like what sick people reminded her of. Sage didn't know much about Viper’s past before they met, but she did know that Viper used to help heal others. It was possible that she'd had a particularly bad patient she didn't want to remember, or maybe it was as simple as the fact that Viper didn't like the inconvenience. Regardless, Viper wanted as little to do with sickness and sick people as possible, and that was that. Sage found it a little odd, not to mention callous to those who were ill, but for the most part it was just another quirk of Viper’s that she'd accepted.
That was until Sage herself became sick.
It didn’t seem to be anything particularly grave, and at first Sage even tried to ignore it. Not her best decision, perhaps, but she’d figured that if she drank more water than usual and slept in a bit, it would be fine. As the day progressed, however, her exhaustion worsened and her head began to pound with a persistent headache that refused to abate. It would not, apparently, be fine.
It all came to a head when she woke up at her desk in the corner of the infirmary, feeling like death warmed over. She didn’t remember falling asleep—she had no idea how long she was even out for, and unfortunately, she had to accept that she had to retreat to her room and rest. Even Breach, the unfortunate soul who woke her up, suggested that she go get some sleep.
Viper was away on a mission, so her reaction to Sage being sick wasn’t exactly at the forefront of the healer’s mind. She figured that she would go to sleep and wake up feeling refreshed, ready to go back to work and help anyone who needed it. By the time Viper returned, her illness would be nothing but a distant memory.
Let it be known that her rational thinking, at the time, was not at its best.
Still, Sage hadn’t expected to wake up to soft warmth and the feeling of twitching fingers running through her hair. There was no mistaking who they belonged to, yet Sage couldn’t bring herself to believe what was happening.
“Sabine?” Sage murmured, voice quiet and hoarse. Her eyes fluttered open, and to her surprise, emerald green greeted her. Viper was looking down at her, and for all that her body language screamed tired, her expression was soft as she met Sage’s gaze. Her heart skipping a beat, Sage realized that her head was in Viper’s lap.
“How are you feeling?” Viper asked, paying no mind to Sage’s wide eyes. In all honesty, Sage felt horrible—it seemed that her cold hadn’t taken kindly to being neglected. Her headache, while less painful than before, was still present, and it felt as though something had scratched the delicate inside of her throat with extreme prejudice. Still, all of that was dwarfed by Viper’s presence. Sage couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.
Don’t get her wrong, she loved her girlfriend, and she had no doubt when it came to Viper’s love either. But they hadn’t been together very long, and everyone had their limits. Sage had never seen Viper exist within fifty feet of a sick person, so really, could she be blamed for her surprise?
“I’ve been better,” she finally settled on, a confused chuckle building in her throat before turning into a cough.
Viper frowned, her brow pinching with concern, but her hand didn’t so much as pause in Sage’s hair. Sage appreciated it; Viper’s touch was cool and calming every time her fingers ghosted over her scalp.
“Have you taken anything? Eaten?” Viper asked, glancing around the room as though expecting medication to suddenly appear. Sage blinked up at her in confusion.
“What time is it? How are you even– Did you come back early?” Why are you here, she wanted to ask but didn’t.
It didn’t seem to matter, because Viper’s frown deepened, and when she looked back down at Sage there was a hurt glint to her eyes. “We were a bit ahead of schedule, yes, but we only came back a day early. You didn’t answer my question.”
“...No,” Sage said slowly, still unsure of why Viper was here, tolerating her very sick self in all her coughing, groggy glory. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but it looked like Viper hadn’t even changed before coming here. “I think I overslept.”
Viper looked away, nodding silently. Even as her free hand caressed Sage’s cheek gently, there was something almost hesitant about the way Viper’s eyes swept over her dark room. After only a few seconds of silence, the hand in her hair slowed to a stop. Sage couldn’t stop herself from grunting a discontented sound, but Viper didn’t seem to notice.
“You should eat, or drink something at the very least. If I remember correctly, you’re one of the Radiants that over-the-counter medication still works on, so that would probably help you feel better.” She paused, a subtle reluctant, nervous sort of twist to her expression. If Sage were anyone else, she would’ve missed it entirely. “But I can…leave. If you prefer. I thought that maybe…” she trailed off, her eyes flicking down to Sage’s for a split-second before she cleared her throat. “Never mind.”
“No!” Sage said as her hand shot up to hold Viper’s, just a little too loudly, a little too enthusiastically. She took a breath, composing herself, before trying again. “No, I want you to stay.”
Viper gazed down at her, surprised, but didn’t attempt to leave. After a moment, she sighed. Perhaps it was resignation—perhaps she was ready, however dreadful it would be, to take care of Sage through her bout of sickness. Or, Sage thought with a small smile, perhaps it was relief. The tiniest of smiles tugged at Viper’s lips in response to Sage’s own, and she settled more comfortably into her spot at the head of Sage’s bed, her hand finally resuming its calming motion of carding through Sage’s hair.
“Okay.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“I’m not a possessive person; it simply isn’t in my nature. But, if there was something I would want to claim as mine, out of everything in this world…
Of course it would be you.”
“How are we going to tell the others?”
Looking up from the document in her hands—notable results from the latest round of protocol-wide checkups—Viper regarded her girlfriend with a raised eyebrow. “About?”
“Us,” Sage clarified from her desk, looking far more worried than she really had any right to. Viper had no idea this was something Sage had been thinking about, let alone something that was bothering her. Setting down the manila folder in her hands, Viper gave Sage her full attention.
“I didn’t realize we had to.” As far as Viper was concerned, no one else had a right to their personal lives. And regardless, it wasn’t like they’d exactly been hiding their affections for one another, so someone had to have figured it out by now. They sleep in each other’s rooms.
“Well, I suppose we don’t, but…” Viper sighed, reluctantly endeared by Sage’s slight pout.
“But you want to,” she finished. Sage flashed her a bashful smile, nodding. “Can I ask why?”
To Viper’s surprise, Sage blushed, avoiding her eyes. Her voice just a tad too high to be normal, Sage asked, “Does there have to be a reason?”
Viper narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the healer. Sage rubbed at one of her palms with her other hand, a nervous habit that she’d had for years. She still stubbornly refused to meet Viper’s eyes, almost as if she were hiding something.
“Sage,” Viper said slowly, tilting her head. It seemed to only worsen Sage’s nerves, her shoulders rising up to her ears defensively.
“Yes?” she squeaked. It was clear she wasn’t going to give a straight answer, so Viper gave up entirely, just staring at her as she tried to figure out what she was missing.
As far as Viper knew, Sage hadn’t been acting oddly recently. There were no new behaviors that she noticed, nor any out-of-place topics—until now, of course. Sage had never seemed overly concerned about making their relationship public before. In fact, they’d even had a short discussion about how comfortable they both were with PDA, which concluded with the consensus that they were both fine with it in small amounts. Overall, there was nothing that really stood out—
Sage’s irritated expression flashed in her mind’s eye, and Viper sat up straighter, trying to remember the memory it came from. It didn’t take her long to place it; they’d been on a mission together a week or so ago, and Chamber had made one of his stereotypical flirtatious comments toward her.
Viper remembered being surprised by the glare Sage shot at him, and how afterward, Sage stood just a bit too close to her for the distance to be considered friendly. Sage had always been annoyed at the frenchman and his unwelcome advances, but she seemed to have reached a boiling point.
Finally, the pieces clicked in Viper’s mind.
…No, she thought as she felt a grin spread across her face, it couldn’t be. Sage hid her face in her hands at the sight of Viper’s expression, groaning softly as Viper began to laugh. It only confirmed her suspicions.
“You’re jealous,” she accused, unable to wipe the smile off her face. Sage glared at her between her fingers, still red as a tomato. “You only want to broadcast our relationship to shut Chamber up!”
“No,” Sage tried to deny weakly, but before she could continue, another thought occurred to Viper and she gasped.
“This is why you keep giving me so many hickies,” Viper said, astounded. Sage had always had a peculiar fondness for her neck, but lately, the amount of hickies she kept leaving there had been nothing short of absurd. Sage let out an anguished sound across from her, still trying to hide in her hands.
“Does it matter?” she asked. “You always wear turtlenecks, so it’s not like it worked.”
Viper laughed, thrilled. “So you admit it?”
Sage’s head dropped onto her desk with an audible thud, but she didn’t deny Viper’s words. Viper opened her mouth, ready to continue her merciless teasing for at least another ten minutes, when the door to the infirmary slid open.
Killjoy walked in with a smile, though it dimmed ever-so-slightly with confusion at the sight of Sage suffering at her desk and Viper grinning like the cat who caught the canary. Perfect, Viper thought, standing and walking to Sage’s side. Sage stood as well to speak to their guest, though her eyes flitted to Viper when she noticed her proximity.
“Hallo!” Killjoy greeted, lifting her hand to show off a painful looking cut. Viper should’ve probably felt guilty for what she was about to do, but she didn’t particularly care. “It’s nothing serious, but—”
Viper grasped Sage’s chin in one hand, and before Sage could even ask what she was doing, pulled her in and sealed their lips in a kiss. Sage let out a small noise of surprise, but it melted into a moan as Viper deepened the kiss, settling one hand on the nape of Sage’s neck while the other fell to her waist. She heard Killjoy gasp from the other side of the room, but Viper didn’t acknowledge her.
“I– I’ll come back later,” Killjoy said quickly, followed by the tell-tale sound of the infirmary door sliding shut.
As if awoken from a daze by the noise, Sage finally broke the kiss, lightly pushing at Viper’s chest with one hand and using the other to cover her mouth. Beet-red and panting slightly, she narrowed her eyes at Viper.
“What was that?” she asked breathily. Viper smirked, crossing her arms.
“You wanted to tell the others,” she said, admiring the pretty blush that colored Sage’s cheeks and ears. “Well, now they know—or they will within the next few hours, I’m sure.” If there was one reliable thing about the younger agents, it was their ability to spread gossip within the protocol.
For a moment, Sage stared at her in silent disbelief. Finally, she sighed, letting her forehead drop to Viper’s shoulder.
“You’re insufferable,” Sage said mournfully, and Viper smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“You love me,” she countered. Sage just groaned.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“In the same way depriving me of oxygen would leave me breathless, bereaving me of you would leave me numb.”
Sage’s relationship with death was…complicated. One might think that, with the power that she wielded, she would get desensitized to it.
What more was death than an obstacle? What was death but a pause, a setback, a simple inconvenience that she—and only she—could easily overcome? What weight did demise have when it never stuck?
She wished it were that simple.
Firstly, Sage was terrified of dying.
In truth, it was not a matter of desire or aversion; it was not a choice. Put plainly, dying was not something she was allowed to do. It couldn’t happen, no matter the circ*mstances. No one wanted to die, least of all her, but she was unique in the fact that it just wasn’t an option for her.
Whether anyone liked it or not, the fact remained that the protocol’s success hinged largely on her existence. As skilled as the agents were, they were few, and they couldn’t afford to lose anyone. That meant that Sage had to stay alive. Her ability to revive people was invaluable, and in practice, it was the only thing that kept them from losing the war.
Because of that, Sage’s death could never simply be her death. The others had long since become reliant on her, and thus, for her to die would be for the protocol to effectively die with her. It wasn’t a fact that Sage liked or disliked. It simply was.
She could not die in the same way the entire world could not be at war with one another at once. The possibility, the consequences, were unthinkable. That was what made it so pertrifying.
Secondly, it was anything but easy to see everyone around her die so often.
They almost never completed a mission where everyone made it out alive. Sage didn’t know which situation was worse: when she watched them die, or when she arrived after the fact to clean up the bloody mess of her comrades' bodies.
Seeing the other agents get shot in real time never lost its horror. Sometimes they screamed, sometimes death wasn’t kind enough to come quickly, sometimes she tried to save them before they died and she didn’t get there in time. The younger agents, the newer ones, hurt the most.
Sage remembered seeing Neon’s corpse for the first time. She remembered staring at her for a moment, and feeling so, so sick, because she was just nineteen, she was just a child.
She also remembered, with nauseating clarity, when Gekko died on a mission with her. His first death ever, and he’d cried. She didn’t have enough energy to heal him, and she’d had to settle for sitting at his side, holding his hand as he practically chanted I’ll see you soon, I’ll see you soon, I’ll see you soon, as if trying to convince himself.
And then she revived them, and all was well again. Rinse and repeat.
Again, and again, and again, they all died around her. Her friends—at this point, her family. It haunted her in a way nothing else could. Their blood tinted her vision, their lifeless eyes chased her into unconsciousness, their screams echoed in her ears.
Perhaps the worst part was that she sometimes did find herself getting desensitized. She wondered if it was wrong of her, then, to force herself to remember it all, to take all of those images and memories in with open arms until she felt raw and empty. Maybe she should’ve just let her mind protect her and spared herself the agony.
It didn’t matter, of course, because she did it anyway. Sage would have rathered suffer than succumb to numbness.
No one knew just how much her role bothered her. There was no point in telling the others and making them feel guilty for something that they couldn’t change, and she couldn’t blame them for not realizing on their own.
The only one who ever did realize was Viper. Sage likely would have told her regardless, eventually, but she never had to. Even before they began dating, Viper always knew.
It was one of the few things that was certain to bring out her soft side. Back then, it didn’t really matter how much vitriol Viper spat; at the end of the day, she still accompanied Sage on her trips to revive deceased teams, and she still kept Sage’s eyes off the corpses for as long as possible until Sage could no longer avoid looking at them.
She almost wondered if her dread ever affected Viper. Viper was a naturally cautious person, sure, but aside from Sage herself, she was by far the agent on the protocol with the least deaths. Sage could've been overthinking it, but she still considered the possibility that maybe Viper did it for her sake, that she was extra careful just so Sage wouldn't have to see her dead so often, too.
Either way, Sage appreciated her for it. Especially now that they'd been together as long as they had—she wasn't sure she would be able to handle seeing Viper’s corpse day in and day out. It was already hard enough on the rare occasion she did die.
Like now.
It wasn't a pretty death, because of course Sage would never be so fortunate. Viper had been shot in the chest, her neck, and finally, her head. Sage could only hope that the bullets came in quick succession. The thought of Viper having to choke on her blood before finally dying tore at Sage’s heart viciously.
It felt wrong in a way Sage couldn't describe, to see Viper like this. Unlike the others, she was unaccustomed to the sight of her girlfriend's dead body.
Viper was slumped against the wall, her head lolling limply to one side. Her eyes, once a sparkling green, were now lifeless and unseeing. She was horribly pale, a stark contrast to the crimson dripping down her face, staining her clothes. Sage hated that, even in death, she looked so unbearably tired.
“Sage?” Deadlock said softly a few feet away, carefully turned around. Sage didn't think she could take seeing another teammates's corpse. “We need to leave soon.”
“I,” she started, pausing when her voice cracked. When did her throat get so tight? She cleared it to no avail. “I know. I'm sorry.”
Sage finally walked closer, close enough that the stench of iron lingered in the air, close enough that she could reach out and touch Viper. She didn't want to. She didn't want to feel how cold Viper was, didn't want to hold a limp hand in her own.
She still did—the choice was never hers to make.
Quiet enough that Deadlock couldn't hear her, she whispered, “Come back to me, Sabine.”
Her voice was a small, wrecked sound, but the words felt necessary. Then she was focusing her radiance on Viper, channeling energy into her and pulling. Viper rose up off the ground like a puppet on strings, her corpse enclosed in crystal.
One second, two, and then, “You're crying.”
The sound of Viper's voice was a balm to her frayed nerves. Sage tried to laugh, but the action only made her realize that she'd been holding her breath.
“Am I?” Viper was on her feet now, looking at Sage with tender eyes, and Sage tried her hardest not to look at the blood still shining on her skin. She disengaged her mask, turning away for a moment, but she didn't quite manage to spare Sage from the sight of blood on her chin and dripping off the metal of her mask. Watching Viper wipe at her chin, Sage still appreciated the effort.
“I heard you,” Viper finally said quietly, in that specific tone that she only ever used with Sage. Turning back to her, Viper stepped into her space, hesitating only for a moment before raising a hand to cradle Sage’s wet cheek. The other rested comfortingly on her bicep. Usually she wouldn't make such a display of affection on the battlefield, but the battle was long over, and aside from Deadlock, it was only them. “I do intend to keep the promise I made, you know.” She looked down at Sage, gaze soft and warm. “I’ll always come back to you. Only you.”
Even with Sage’s abilities, that felt like an unrealistic promise to make. But it was made, and for better or worse, Sage believed it. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into Viper’s hand.
Viper’s hands were always cold, but thankfully, she'd already started warming up from when Sage last touched her. The heat was comforting, real, alive. Viper’s lifeless eyes flashed in her mind, and Sage cried just a bit harder. She was allowed to fall apart here, in Viper’s arms.
Clicking her tongue, Viper tapped her finger against Sage’s face, drawing her attention. She knew her too well.
“I'm right in front of you. If you must think of me, think of me alive, because I'm right here.” It wasn't a real reprimand. How could it be, when Viper’s voice was so gentle? But it did what it was supposed to, and Sage let out a watery laugh, nodding.
“I know you are,” she replied, still crying, still nodding like a broken bobblehead. Viper’s hand left her face, instead traveling to the nape of her neck and pulling her to Viper’s shoulder. Sage didn't fight it, pressing her face into the slightly uncomfortable suit Viper still wore.
“Let's go home,” Viper whispered, rubbing the back of her neck comfortingly. Sage hummed an affirmative into her shoulder, wrapping her arms around Viper’s waist and holding her close.
She had to let go, eventually. Of course she did—she always would. But Viper still held her hand, even in front of the others, and she still gave her a small smile whenever she caught Sage staring at her.
Yes, Sage hated death. But she would brave it, over and over again, because she loved her family more.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘༓∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
“I was built in blood and shadow, and I have lived and breathed it since. Even now, my heart often aches for violence.
It’s so odd, then, that resting in the sunlight with you feels like second nature.”
“Are you sure it’s alright that we’re gone this long?” Sage asked nervously, glancing around the small café as if Brimstone might jump out at them at any moment to drag them back to headquarters. Viper rolled her eyes, setting down her coffee with a sigh.
“Yes, I’m sure. We were given permission for this trip, remember? Not that it matters,” Viper said, leaning down to pet a calico cat as it brushed against her leg. “It’s not like we decided to travel halfway across the world.”
Sage frowned at her, unconvinced. “...But what if—”
Viper sat back up, glaring at Sage and ignoring the cat as it jumped into her lap. “This was your idea. So stop worrying about the others for once, drink your tea, and relax.”
Honestly, Viper could’ve been doing productive work right now. If Sage was going to insist that they spend a day out, then they might as well see it through to the end. What was the point, otherwise? Sage smiled sheepishly at her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Viper’s eyes followed the movement, admiring the way Sage’s hair shone in the light of the setting sun.
“I know, I know,” Sage relented, taking another sip of her drink like a scolded child. Viper shook her head, exasperated, and absent-mindedly scratched another cat’s head when it meowed at her.
Never in a million years did she ever think she would find herself in a cat café of all places. At least cats were far less invasive and obnoxious than dogs.
In all honesty, the small establishment was…nice. The coffee was good, the decorations were stylish and cozy, and the felines roaming around the area were well-behaved, surprisingly. She and Sage seemed to have come at the perfect time, long after the morning rush but well before sleep-deprived regulars began showing up. Overall, the place was a good spot to rest after the long day of shopping they’d had. But more than any of that, the experience was pleasant because of the company she came with.
Sage seemed lost in thought where she sat across from Viper, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window next to them and watching the sunset, but Viper didn’t mind. She simply took advantage of the opportunity to admire her girlfriend without being noticed.
For perhaps the first time in public, Sage’s signature ponytail was absent. Viper often saw her hair down, but only ever in the privacy and comfort of their bedrooms. To see her now, in a comfortable-looking blue sweater with long waves of dark hair flowing over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, felt nearly surreal. Still, Viper appreciated the sense of normalcy it brought. Seeing Sage relaxed and dressed casually, Viper could almost be convinced that she was just an average citizen. Not a soldier, not some sort of reality-twisting angel, not someone who had taken lives.
Just Ling Ying Wei.
“Sabine?” Viper blinked, straightening. Perhaps she stared for just a bit too long. She cleared her throat, using a nearby cat as an excuse to not look at Sage as she answered.
“Yes, Ling Ying?” The gray cat happily butted into her hand, purring, and Viper nearly smiled at the small creature. Nearly. But then she realized that Sage hadn’t answered her, and she glanced back up at her, brow furrowed.
Sage was staring at her, her jaw slack and eyes wide. She was blushing furiously, enough so that Viper wondered if she should be concerned. “Um.”
“Are you alright?” Viper asked, looking Sage over again. Lit up by the sun, her eyes looked even prettier than usual, a warm caramel instead of their usual dark brown. Focus, Viper berated herself. Still, nothing stood out to her as something to be worried over. Finally, Sage blinked a few times, shaking herself slightly and avoiding Viper’s gaze.
“Sorry, I just,” Sage hesitated again, visibly swallowing, “You’ve never…called me by my real name before.” That was all? Even as Viper’s concern eased, she tilted her head. Had she simply caught Sage off-guard?
“I hope you don’t mind.” She glanced around the mostly-empty room cautiously before continuing. “Sage isn’t a common name, and while we aren’t exactly on wanted posters, I figured it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Sage smiled, wringing her hands in her lap. “No, no, it’s alright.” She paused for a long moment, taking a deep breath, before she continued. “You could call me by name more often,” she offered softly, her eyes widening before she hastily added, “If you want, of course.”
It finally hit Viper, then, why Sage had been acting so oddly. “You like it when I call you by your given name?”
Her cheeks already darkening all over again, Sage nodded. Interesting. Viper hummed, frowning. “My apologies, then. I hadn’t realized. Calling you Sage is simply a habit.”
“It’s alright,” Sage reassured, her smile losing its embarrassed edge. “I don’t mind.” Still, Viper took note for future reference, sipping at her coffee thoughtfully.
“Well, what was it? That you were going to say, I mean,” she prompted. Sage took another sip of her own drink, her eyes narrowing in thought. Then she put her cup down, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled.
“I was just going to ask if you were enjoying yourself.”
Oh. Warmth spread in Viper’s chest, fluttering and gentle. Until Sage, the feeling had been utterly foreign. Viper let a soft smile adorn her face, petting the cat still curled in her lap.
“Yes, I am.” She felt almost unnaturally content, sitting here in this quiet café, miles away from headquarters and not a gun in sight. It wasn’t that she’d never been happy before, but it usually came to her in bursts, short moments of peace that didn’t last nearly long enough. She should’ve known that Sage could bring her to this state, of course. Sage always made it easier for her to smile, easier for her to loosen her muscles and breathe and enjoy the moment.
Contentment. Ease. This was still foreign, still ill-fitting around Viper’s heart. But she could get used to it—she wanted to get used to it.
“Good. Me too,” Sage said brightly. Then her gaze darted down to Viper’s lap, and she faltered slightly, sighing. Viper’s eyebrows drew together in concern immediately, and she searched Sage’s expression.
“What is it?” she asked. Sage looked around the room almost mournfully before her eyes settled on Viper again, a dejected frown on her face.
“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked quietly, staring blankly at her. Panic rising in Viper’s throat, she too looked around the room, completely lost as to what Sage meant. Finally, she followed her gaze back down to her own lap, and everything clicked.
The calico cat still lying in her lap trilled, pleased that she was giving it attention once more, and Viper whipped her head back up to look at Sage. “Did you have to word it like that?” she hissed, her eye twitching. “I thought something was genuinely wrong!”
“Something is wrong,” Sage lamented, looking at Viper like a kicked puppy. “Wrong with me. Why don’t they like me? They love you.”
Viper scoffed, throwing her hands up incredulously and shifting in her seat, causing the calico as well as the few cats curled up at her feet to look at her in displeasure. “They’re cats. I don’t know why they don’t like you, but that doesn’t mean that you have to give me a heart attack!”
“But Sabine,” Sage started, getting up from her seat just to try and pet one of the cats crowding Viper. To both of their surprise, it actually ran away. Sage let out a wounded noise, looking back up at Viper with heartbroken eyes. “You don’t even like them. I love cats. Why won’t they let me pet them?”
“Maybe because you’re dramatic,” Viper said, rolling her eyes. Although, she had to admit, now that she’d calmed down, Sage’s show of disappointment was slightly amusing. Slightly. The best part was that she could tell Sage was genuinely a bit wounded by the cats’ rejection, even if she was playing it up just to mess with her.
“I’m being serious, Sabine,” Sage insisted, not serious in the slightest. Viper finally cracked a smile, shaking her head.
“Sure you are, Ling Ying.” Seemingly satisfied by Viper’s amusem*nt, or perhaps because she used her name, Sage finally dropped the act and smiled warmly at her. She glanced down at the cat occupying Viper’s lap, shooing it away before taking its place. Viper raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. “Really?”
Hooking an arm around Viper’s neck and using the other to reach for her tea again, Sage laughed. “Really.”
Accepting her fate of being Sage’s favorite piece of furniture, Viper sighed, running a hand through her soft hair. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as Sage relaxed in her arms, watching as random passersbys walked outside. Viper found it more charming than she cared to admit, sitting here like they weren’t special at all and holding Sage as the sun disappeared.
Still passing her fingers through Sage’s hair, Viper finally commented, “You should wear your hair down more often.”
Sage smiled slightly, and she glanced back at Viper, flicking a strand of her hair in retaliation. “You should wear yours up more often, then, bǎobèi.”
Viper didn’t particularly like wearing her hair up. It saved her no hassle—that’s why her hair was short in the first place, so it wouldn’t get in the way—and getting it into a small ponytail was far more time consuming than just leaving it be. But a thought crossed her mind, and before she really considered it, the words were already falling from her lips.
“Next time we go out, then,” she said definitively. “Next time we go out, I’ll put my hair up, and you’ll wear yours down again.”
It was more than a challenge, more than simple banter. It was an admittance of the fact that she genuinely appreciated this moment, a confession that yes, she would like to take more trips like this in the future. It was her subtle way of saying ‘I want to embrace this feeling of peace with you.’
Sage’s eyes widened, and she froze for a moment, shocked. But then a wide smile blossomed on her face, and she leaned in, capturing Viper’s lips in a kiss. When she pulled away, love in her eyes and delight on her lips, Viper knew she understood.
“Okay,” Sage said, a quiet sort of joy in her voice. “Next time.”
Viper couldn’t wait.
