It was one of the nicest buildings in the stronghold area, to be fair. Plush couches and a beautiful high hilltop view, looking out onto a town less devastated than most Wolf had seen — in recovery, but enduring, and in enduring: homely. Wolf could imagine herself living here, becoming comfortable here — and she could imagine going absolutely stir-crazy, up here.

But. Reason to hope Oracle was okay.

Immediately, there was a care here that Wolf hadn't seen replicated many other places. Bright-on-neutral colouration greeted her, meant to make anyone feel at home; flowers painted on the walls. Receptionists, people smiling, order, directionality. It was bizarre. Not Wolf's place — not for Wolf, used to getting looked up and down by a Cleric so she could get told, 'alright, go get on with it, then', only alotted a once-over and a whispered spell if you didn't whine and put on a show for the old military doctors itching to toss you back onto the front lines. Spit and the love of the earth; deal with it yourself; be a Paladin, girl! Your body is an instrument of Law and so shall right itself. Well, they've started saying a government is a type of body, and the pallid body of the old administration hadn't righted itself for all the favour of the Law, and... yeah. Wolf did not miss them.

Someone as compromised as Oracle, they'd've throw in a prison. To be safe.

(…Which is part of how the succubi took the capital, really. If you thought you were compromised, where would you go?)

A dead era. The Metamorphosis Institute proclaimed better. Betterment: public works: an appeal to the spirit of Public Good over every arch, in burnished bronze plaques in every section. Big ideas, philosophies, Duckear Town's pet project. A good project, a cutting edge project. This new thing we're calling psychology; clean as the day it was built.

It was successfully nice here. But Wolf wouldn't want to stay.

…

Oracle's face lit up when she saw her commander. She was ushered into the room by a fussbudget of a man Wolf didn't recognise (and who ducked out of the room the very first second he was no longer required). Wolf's old teammate turned (eyes a touch confused, distant)... saw Wolf — and broke out into a wide, happy grin.

It was the smile of a freed woman. Or a woman who, for a couple hours of the day, now got to pretend she was free. Bloody well left Wolf not knowing what to do with herself. Except...

Wolf opened up for the hug... sat down, let Oracle coo over her. And once they got into it, it wasn't hard. Old memories, right? More than that, it was like her scout, their little Oracle, had never left. Been taken from them. And, hey: it was the least Wolf could do to make her feel welcome. Dr. Sssomething-or-other — over there, across the room, watching them beatifically — had stressed the importance of that, in their meeting, cown by the toppled rocks.

"Oh, Crystal's been doing great. Town like this? It's basically home for her," Wolf was saying, snuggling — yeah, back into the swing of it — into Oracle, holding her, keeping them together (as if the good Doctor might pull them apart at any time, announce their time was up). "Seaside... Decent people who need some help? It's good for her soul. A chance for her to rest. She needs those kinda times."

"Not working herself to death, then?" Oracle's voice was small, but it always had been. Her regular rhythm had always soothed Wolf.

...Had Wolf ever told her how important that voice was to her? Fuck.

"Despite her best efforts." Wolf gave a lopsided grin; Oracle, slightly shy, returned it. "Ivy keeps her company. I think they've been playing tourists."

The slightest haze left Oracle's eyes. Excited, now. "Oh, Ivy's always talked to me about, um, all the places she wants to visit. Places she'd take me if we ever… Won. She's kind of a secret romantic. Hides it from you, because, y'know. Image."

Wolf smiled. Privately, at the joke: Ivy hadn't really hidden it, not well. But Wolf had laid the trail for Oracle to jump into the conversation, the one way she knew how. Keep her alive, present, here…

"Yeah, that's crazy, to me. But, they seem happy, you know? Proper proper happy."

Oracle let out a micro-gasp, blocked off self-consciously. The sound like a less intense version of how she reacted to numbing agent on a wound. Relief from pain: painfully. Wolf's heart did funny things.

"That's good, Wolf. That's… really good."

"It's a lovely town, here," chimed in the third voice in the room with them. "Everyone who visits keeps reminding me. I'm sure they're having a wonderful time."

Sunlit view across the hills. "Yeah. 't's nice."

And then Wolf was uncomfortable. Hair up her back: 'You're being watched,' whispered the virtuous vigilance ascribed to in the wolf cycles. The paladin, guarded now, shot a look at... the good doctor. There, a face was smiling back at her, tastefully perfect in the not-quite-truly-wealthy's concealing powder, makeup. Utterly neutral, and watching her.

…Wolf didn't know the woman's tells. Not enough time. She didn't like her, but there was no telling if that was for any good reason. If she got them Oracle back…

"Who's winning the tally?" Oracle's voice. Small. Careful, in asking. (...fuck.)

Relax your shoulders, Lady Paladin, dumb-arse, bitch. Fuck. "Mmh. Ivy, still."

"Oh, lords, how smug is she being?"

"Com~ple~te bitch," Wolf intoned, nodding solemnly. Oracle giggled.

"What's your plan if she wins this year?"

Wolf's planned reward had involved an elaborate dragon-themed prank conjured up by Oracle. She would'a loved it. "Ah, I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Best start thinking no~ow," Oracle said; then, she sighed. "Ah, fuck. I was so close to beating her."

To punctuate, Wolf snuggled up to her scout, even closer. Scruff of her fluffy jacket up against her. Oracle breathed in — relaxing down. They tangled hands together, and Oracle felt so fucking delicate...

I miss you. Painful, through the chest.

"…Hey. Once you get out of here, you can get right back on it. We'll find you, like, a fucked up church full of Warped Ones—"

— "Um," went the doctor —

"— And let you blow it up in one go, somehow."

"Well... Hehe, Wo~lf–"

"And you'll catch up in one day, and she'll get really upset, but she'll have to celebrate it and you'll get to watch her simmer." Wolf smiled. "Sound good?"

Oracle breathed. "Wonderful, Commander." A more familiar edge to that voice, now. Wolf smiled wider–

"Maybe you should tell her how your life has been going, Oracle?" the psychologist intoned, in a new kind of voice.

Oracle looked down. Pulled away. Hands in her lap. Cute, but cute like a hurried schoolgirl.

"Yes, Dr. Symbal. Um! Well, everyone's been really nice. There's plenty to do. It really feels like I've been taken in. They've let me volunteer around…" A smile, slight, genuine: "I've learned a lot more about food prep."

"Oh yeah?"

Even while talking with Oracle, Wolf kept one eye on the doctor. Symbal. Her hair done up tight, mouth pressed, eyes languid and watching.

Her scout went on. "Yeah! There's sort of a bunch of ways to make things taste better that they dont teach you, back home. Ways to stretch rations... God, when I get back, I might change e~everything about how we eat."

Symbal fidgeted at that last part. She opened her mouth to respond to that herself–

So, Wolf projected her 'a Paladin is talking now' voice, and outmatched her. "Oh, fuckin' great! Always went around telling myself we'd get around to actually figuring out. That. The things the old bastards didn't teach us, yeah? I'll put it all in your capable hands."

Oracle giggled.

"Yes," Symbal said, re-asserting, "Good. But we should talk about your progress, Oracle."

Oracle wilted. "Yes, ma'am."

Ma'am? The wrongness of it hit Wolf in the side, again. Suddenly everything in this room was skewed. Suddenly this town was too nice, again, and the sun was being a right bitch, shining down on it, as if everything was okay. Oracle was cut off from them, in the care of people—

That they could trust. Rebels, hand in hand. Standing for something other than the decay of the world. Heroes, one and all, wasn't it?

But it was wrong. Not because of Symbal, really, (although…). But because Oracle shouldn't sound like that. It made Wolf want to scoop her subordinate up and sweep her away, run into the forest. They'd be okay.

"I tried to run away," Oracle confessed.

"Shit." Wolfs heart beat faster. "What?"

Shrinking: a paladin — a paladin! — sat in confessional. "Go... back. I had a whole plan, and everything. But the staff, they stopped me, and they were really… Nice, gentle. There's this paladin they have on security, Temperance, and she's really nice. We've been getting to know each-other, after."

Fuck this. Fuck all of this. ...And Symbal had been saving this?

"It's been nice," Oracle said, as if she read into Wolf's distress as her own failure. "I'm okay."

"Progress has been stop and start," said the woman deemed responsible for Wolf's battle-sister, in an even tone, "I have to admit. Oracle is a unique case. These things take time."

Oh, like that helped. That tone, at the end… And she suddenly wanted to scratch at something. But without a target! This is her job. Calm down, woman. Paranoid. Always too tense around people. Crystal would chew you out, she'd say...

Wolf had asked — demanded, towering over the doctor — to be kept updated on every step of the process, those couple months ago. If nothing else than to throw cold water on that fantasy of dragging Oracle out of here herself.

…Wasn't supposed to wait to come from Oracle's mouth.

"Wolf?" Oracle asked her silent commander, small.

"Yeah," she grunted, "time, yeah. Hey, we don't have to talk about this, now. Uh, I could tell you about the last operation, if you like—"

"Paladin Wolf, do you really think that's a good idea?" Symbal interrupted. Fuck, even with her bad people skills, Wolf heard the exasperation.

Wolf turned on her. "Yeah. I know her. She's mine."

There was a beat. Oracle retreated into Wolf, as if she could hide behind her, hide from sight. And then Wolf had a hand around her back. Quietly encouraging. Symbal held up against the paladin's glower. Wolf's instincts kept trying to pick her apart, make sense of the doctor's attention. All the woman seemed to do was watch and watch and watch.

"...Oracle," Wolf murmured, turning back to her teammate. Settling in, as Oracle made a small, shy noise at the attention. "What do you need?"

"I need, um…" Oracle shook her head. "Sorry, it always feels weird. Scratchy-loud at the back of my head. You're doing fine. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise."

"Yeah, but you came all this way—"

"You do not need to apologise."

"Mm." Oracle brushed hair from her face, eyes downcast, lost in thought. "You're… Can we talk about stuff? Anything. Hearing your voice is… really nice. You have a nice voice, Wolf. Have I ever said that? Steady."

Wolf tilted her head. Oracle gave compliments, Oracle was sweet, Oracle saw all the team dynamics and managed them well. But Oracle didn't give compliments like she was— like some kind of— what? "S-sure. Of course."

And so, commander regaled scout with the tales of what they'd been up to, fighting the good fight up and down the country and all. Interim team chemistry, and a hell of a reason to visit all those important archaeological sites. Underlined that they were safe, they were fine, that nobody was putting themselves into risky situations or fighting the most dangerous enemy generals.

And Oracle, with each sentence, pulled into her further. Her eyes became engaged, she nodded along… Came into the conversation more, as she listened. Even if she wasn't saying anything. Quiet Oracle, gentle Oracle, caring Oracle...

I swear on all that I am, that I'll never let you go again.

When was the last time Oracle's life had gotten to be normal? That's what Wolf kept coming back to, rattling around the bramble that was her stupid fucking brain. Their normal, as a cadre. That week — that last week, acting as the enemy's agent from within the group. Was she aware of that deception as she carried it out? Torn up over it? Or had she been rudderless through it all, outside herself? Something else?

And then, being turned into… whatever it was they'd recovered. Some completely different girl in her skin. Glowing purple eyes, wide smile, pleading that she'd chosen this, wanted it. And then again, now, here. Stuck here. This nice building. Where Wolf couldn't stop twitching.

Never again, never again. As long as I live.

"Oracle, dear," Symbal broke in, then, during a lull. "You seem quiet. If this topic of conversation makes you uncomfortable, we can always more on to… No?"

Oracle had started shaking her head, fierce. "No, this is good, I feel comfortable. This feels nice. I'm just kinda… Sleepy."

"…Oracle, this is your first opportunity to socialise with a friend after so long. I really think you should try and—"

"Oh!" Oracle said, as if realising something. She gave her commander a puzzling little smile. 'My bad.' It was like Oracle'd become her interpreter for some kind of language for psychologists, their culture, separate. Some manner of Therapy Speak. "I don't mean sleepy in the maladaptive way, doctor. I literally mean, sleepy. Relaxed. I like being held, like this." Wolf felt her clutch on tighter. "Missed this."

"Well," Wolf huffed. She made a gesture with one arm, at Symbal, "she knows what she wants. Who am I to deny her, huh?"

"…Paladin Wolf's time is very valuable. It's only— You were making so much progress at—"

"My time isn't any more fuckin' valuable than anyone else's damn time, Doctor," Wolf groaned. "It's all time. Sod off."

That got her to pipe down (spluttering, spluttering).

But Oracle flinched. "Please don't argue." Different thing in her tone.

"Hey, Oracle, Oracle, Oracle—"

And then Wolf swept Oracle up in her arms — she fit just so. As always. The girl actually squeaked.

"—You're safe. See? We can do whatever you like."

And Oracle looked up at her, pleading. "Mm... I want to... I want to feel. Actually, really here. Now."

"You're safe, little thing. You're here. I promise you're safe. I can be here as often as you like. As often as I can" —

she hadn't known if she'd want to be with Oracle through this, or go feel weird about it all at a tavern somewhere, going in. but now she was committed, wasn't she?

— "You're safe here. No matter what."

Punctuating each thing with a touch. Squeezing her little scout, rubbing that hand with one thumb. Practically engulfing her in constant little affections.

Oracle gave her a smile in return. A real one. "Dr. Symbal is nice. She's really helping me. A few weeks ago, I wasn't even really... talking. I was really, um, bad, for a while there. Started… atrophying? Myself, my self. Um. That's why she's fretting about it."

Wolf smiled. "Well. You seem like yourself to me."

wolf was so pretty.

Every piece of her, in so many ways that she didn't even realise. The softest hair in the world, which Oracle now pet, idly: her Commander so used to the contact that she hadn't even reacted. Used to all her pack's touches. Always, always, except that time that Oracle went. Went away. And then, only fantasies. away, away, away–

Wolf had the most earnest eyes in the world, when she wasn't being harsh, and her voice was gruff in a way that rumbled its way down to Oracle's heart and made her feel at peace, safe, safe, safe… She needed that. Fuck, she'd needed this. Dr. Symbal and the staff were competent, calming in their own right. But this…

Weeks, to learn how to talk again. Weeks, to stop eye-fucking Dr. Symbal. Stop expressing desire. Told over and over to look inside of herself — 'inside of herself', as if there was anything there at all — and tell that… straggler of Her influence to quiet down. to stop being so obvious. think about it later: in bed, presumably not watched, but with a staff member only strides away, behind that door, there. fast enough to not be noticed: think about it then.

She didn't have to contain any of that with Wolf, and it didn't even feel like betraying herself, mostly. Because it had been like this. Exactly like this. Camraderie: feeding Wolf's divine actuation with closeness itself. A wolf and her pack, languishing in an approved wisdom of bodily closeness. She missed that touch.

Her gut twisted around, embarrassed. Worrying that she'd push it too far… She kept reaching for the tendrils of control around her, to remind her of the reason she was letting herself get touched by this Paladin, this Wolf, this enemy. Her secret scheme, her plan, her orders. To be together, forever and ever and ever. One last step, and then...

But it was gone. That woman, over there, she'd taken it all away. Though, that flippy feeling in her stomach had become ingrained.

Every time she'd accepted her Commander's touch, as a secret traitor, she'd taken it while thinking of her- her kidnapper's 'love'. A love that'd gone sour, now running up and down her nerves.

it made her feel violated. there was a weird heat in her abdomen.

She wanted to feel safe. She wanted to believe in the wholesome touch — not that pervert thing she secretly wanted from just about any woman she interacted with, desperate, giddy, reducing. That Sister-closeness she'd missed so, so much.

…

She wanted to believe she wanted to feel safe. she wanted to believe she wanted! that her wants weren't a careful thing crafted for the benefit of the other women in this room. and everyone in the building. and her entire team, so she could set up the ambush and get out, get out, go back to where it all made sense where she could not

have

a self again.

…

She was doing so well at having a self, though!! She wanted to enjoy this. Couldn't she enjoy this? Without the reminder of the yawning fucking void beneath her?

So the girl who these people called 'Oracle' — a paladin's name — mustered everything, as she nuzzled ever-deeper into Wolf, and opened her mouth to say something, anything. A thank you. A pleading, desperate list of all of her sins.

"I wish that was true." She shook. "I wish I felt like myself."

"Oracle?"

But I don't. I don't feel like anything in particular. I'm just here. Dead words on her shamed shameful shameless tongue.

"You will," Wolf promised. "You'll get there. You will".

...

wolf was fluffy. wolf was safe; with Wolf, and wolf alone, she was safe, and oh yes, felt safe. a feeling of safety built from a thousand touches, a thousand operations — exploring around in the woods of the country, keeping each-other warm, making desperate promises over and over and overandover. Those times, 'round the fire, eating bad rations, hurry-up-and-wait yet in the most generic sense happy. She wanted that for herself. Or some version if it: or for some version of herself.

here, again, maybe she had a self. but that felt like a lie. Wolf was acting like they'd ever let her fight again, but she knew that wasn't true. Oracle didn't trust her own wants, anymore, anyway.

more than anything: she wanted her cadre.

(she wanted her cadre. horny b-bitch. Or, was that one healthy?)

And she tried to fight for the version of her that'd make a good story for Dr. Symbal. She really did. 'I miss my friends, I'm optimistic, I want to get out here, get out of this, on my own terms. Fight for it.'

Fight that void she felt underneath her, pulling her down —

(squeezing herself into Wolf, pushing her hands into her thighs for a reminder that she was here, she was real, she had a body, she's real–)

— Imagining to herself an ordained knight, vaguely similar to this 'Oracle' she'd heard so much about (and that she did suppose was her). And yet, also not: at Symbal's insistence: a girl In need of love, hurt. Hurt by all of this. There, in there, somewhere, was the exact kind of person that old Oracle fought for, fought against tyranny and evil to protect. A girl so very young, so very small in the grand scheme of this spiraling war, who hadn't realised how she could end up exiled from herself. That a Paladin could want so hard for a life to live.

(damn the paladins, damn the cycles, damn every stained glass window)

And that instead, one day, a woman, some fucking woman — not so special, only so powerful... That with the right touch, the right Chaotic boons, and with enough bad luck, that someone could do that to her. take her. remake her, reshape her, fuck her fucking brains out.

the girl that might be called oracle shivered. She hadn't known. She hadn't known! It was unfair. this was so fucking unfair. ...But, she should care, right? She should be happy that the one of her that happened to be sitting here was getting to hug Wolf, again. After everything.

But.

…It felt, these days, like her soul was a winding, intangible tapestry, except that almost every chapter of note had been torn out. There were entire parts of her that she wasn't allowed to access — or rather, beg someone else to access for her: say the pretty words to change her. But Symbal had deprogrammed the trigger words out from her, and so now, it was said, she was supposed to let her soul stitch itself back together. Create something new from the dangling threads. And it wasn't not happening. Slow going, but words had come back to her, and an ability to accept touch — which was certainly serving her well now, and so, in that sense, she wanted to heal.

…

but through the gaps in herself.

the girl who was trying, so very hard — but no-one seemed to notice that! Nobody actually told her she was doing good, they told her that she was good for letting Symbal tinker with her head! As the smug bitch took out all the conditioning her Mistress had ccarefully lovingly designed to let her ignore all these… fucking, feelings!

(though she'd gotten into this mess because she'd stared into an expert tinkerer's eyes too long in the first place...)

Scared, antsy, wanting to do right by Wolf; all of those feelings, broken apart, fractured heat all across her body, only confused by the doctor's efforts — too intense tttoo intense. She breathed into Wolf's chest, trying not to whimper. Hand in her Commander's hair, still, and being held tight in return. Wolf had her way of saying nothings, keeping her mouth moving. But that helped.

...Through the gaps in herself, you could still find all of the conditioning. symbal could try all she wanted, but...

Here was a girl, living in Oracle's body, who was made up of all of the images and bits that were supposed to make up any given girl. But now re-constructed, like a haphazard fortress built in desperation. But, it was hers, right? Her self.

And here was the thing: now, Wolf,

through her endless, enveloping softness,

and more than that: the little breaths on her neck, like the fluttering of tiny wings… Wolf

had

"...Commander?"

"Yeah?"

"…It's not your fault. It's really not your fault."

Wolf's hands tightened on her.

"I know. I'm… I've been trying to believe that."

"No," the girl who didn't think she was called oracle said, shaking her head into Wolf's chest. "That's not what I mean."

She has to know that I'm doing better. She has to. She can't take this to mean—

I don't want her to never see me again.

It was the littlest thing. Not a reinforced trigger, because Symbal had made her reveal all of those. The exact opposite: a single night, during her conditioning. In the castle. Candles lit, all smelling of honey. Giggling, stupidly, in Miss' arms, so proud she was destroying herself so well. Debasing herself. Losing her fucking mind. Conviction screaming at her to stop ignoring her Lawful self, her impulses, to use her powers to do something — all turned by Miss into a sickening, lovely pleasure. Running through her body, inexorable. And scared, too. Whimpering and whining — and then back to giggling. The fear was real, and not fun, and she'd clutched the demoness who'd broken her and begged her, quietly, to make that un-fun stop...

And her owner had told her, with loving, adoring conviction:

"You're safe. You're safe." 

Wolf and her nothing words; Miss and her… It wasn't a trigger, it wasn't! She hadn't even been in that temperament of trance, at the time. And on any other day, maybe she could have resisted it.

but.

she wanted wolf back, more than anything. and miss was gone. and everything was gone—

She let out a whisper of a gasp.

"Hey, Oracle, what do you mean?" Wolf shook her — gently. "What do you mean, little thing?"

(She thought she heard Dr. Symbal stand up, somewhere far away.)

She held the image of that girl in her head as long as she could. The one she should be fighting for. The one she could still be. What would she look like? Strong of heart and same of self. Confident in who she was. She'd be strong, she'd have friends; everyone in this town would probably adore her, or pity her, for going through something so awful, so violating, and making it through. And she was a Paladin — famous, someone to look up to, and didn't she always like inspiring the kids?

and–

a sickly sweet version of her own voice came, and rapped-rapped-rapped, gently, on the tower of things that she imagined about her self. You don't want to go back to fighting for them, do you? Tap. You don't really want to be strong.

Taptap. The structure wobbled.

For Wolf, she bit back at herself. For Wolf, for Wolf, for Wolf.

An invasion of demon-tinged convictions went through her, out of her. Another small gasp. Wolf held her tighter, communicating worry– This was all happening so fast—

It'd been happening the whole conversation. This was just her. This was just her, losing.

feel how hard she's gripping you? she likes you acting like this. hazy, needy. she doesn't realise it, but she loves it. lean into that. It's not that hard to manipulate her.

(You've done it before.)

(Even before we made you into what you are. You've always wanted her to like you, haven't you? More than the rest. More than anything else. Clingy girl. It's so good that we unearthed all that. So much better for you.)

Taptaptap. down, down, into oblivion. this shell. this thing she'd built up around herself—

Was holding! It was! Wolf hadn't even meant any of it. She wanted oracle to be herself. She did!

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm sorry, nevermind, it's nothing," she babbled.

"Oh, Oracle," said the one voice, the one she liked —

"Oracle?" said another, intoning, demanding. The other voice, the woman who had taken something from her —

Vertigo, falling, collapsing into herself—

Oracle refused. Yelling into the void, which was roaring at her now, demanding, taking, always fucking taking! So with all her mustered Self, Oracle screamed back:

Miss is gone! That woman is gone! And she's never coming back!

And then there was a pause. No punishment. No conditioning lanced itself through her brain like so many magicked arrows to reprimand her. …She breathed in. Let it out.

"I'm okay," Oracle said. "I'm—"

Oh.

If Miss was gone, she could just—

You can be strong, and nobody else will ever touch you like that again.

Or.

Like a feeling of being snapped into some new,

contorted shape,

the void forced malleability onto her.

...

"…I'm okay."

mother me, love me, tell me sweet things. take me. simple. nice. always nice when the thoughts go simple again. here's what you say:

"Sorry, I went away for a second." She flashed her best smile at Symbal, who was approaching, concerned. The world returning. "I'm okay now, Doctor. Nothing bad. It's passed."

The doctor looked unconvinced. "Oracle? Tell me where your thoughts are." Ooh, so commanding when she needed to be!

"I had a flashback. Like we talked about. I…" she bit her lip in a way that tended to get a reaction from Wolf. "I just felt so guilty, about betraying Wolf. And the others. Don't be upset with her, Dr. Symbal. I don't think Wolf wants to hear me talk much, right now."

"I— Oracle, of course I—"

"Sorry!" the girl in Wolf's lap spoke over her commander's hesitation. Oh, gosh, this felt good. Closed her eyes, smiled in a wide satisfaction. "That came out self-deprecating, didn't it? Doctor, Wolf shows her appreciation very physically. It's how she is. We're only making up for lost time."

"Um. Yeah, we…" a pause. "Dr. Symbal?"

"…I think it would be a good idea for us to take a short break, Wolf."

Eyes wide open. A breath. No! She wouldn't. Would she?

Wolf said it for her. "Already? No, what?! That can't be…"

Wolf paused. Studyed the girl in her lap for a bit. And began, slowly, pulling away. "Sorry, I shouldn't… I don't mean to yell. What do you want, Oracle? You said you, um, went 'away'? Are you—"

"Shh, shh, shh, you're right. You're right. I agree with you," Wolf's scout said, with that happy smile on her face. "That church full of demons, I'll do that for you, I'll take them all out. Ah, someday, I will, I will, I will. I'll do it for you."

"Oracle…?"

Oh, gosh, she probably wasn't doing a good job of lying, wasn't she? She giggled. She didn't usually giggle, but it always made Wolf smile, like she'd won some prize. Goal-oriented girl, that one. So she gave that to her. Exactly the sound she made around the campfire, that cold Fall night in the mountains…

Wolf gave a hesitant little smile. Like she couldn't help it. Conditioned. It made her feel giddier.

"You're so fluffy. You're so fluffy. I want this more than anything in the world. Lord, I missed this."

And Oracle leaned in closer. Whispered, for the two of them.

"I should've seen it earlier."

"Oracle." Wolf didn't have a tone like she was talking to a squadmate, not anymore. More like any another soldier. "Seen what?"

Oracle took in a happy breath. yay! Wolf would like this compliment.

"The two of you. You're so similar."

A fraction of a beat passed. Then, Wolf's eyes widened—

And two men broke into the room in a sprint.

The speed of things left Wolf suspecting that Symbal had expected this.

At first, she'd clutched Oracle to herself. She had the exact reaction to two men suddenly bearing down on her, trying to tear one of her girls from her, that you'd expect: she gripped Oracle, tight, and practically growled as she summoned up her power —

Her power that was dampened, here.

They took Oracle, and the girl didn't fight, but Wolf did. Jockeying with her. She caught Oracle smiling at her, eyes going wide as she clung on tighter, never not smiling. She'd probably leave marks on the girl's skin, like this, but still she held on, and for a moment — just a moment —

…for a moment, her judgement was compromised. That was all. Symbal was shouting at her, shouting her down:

"No, Wolf! She's not safe! This isn't—"

A mans arms snaked through the tangle, wresting Wolf back, forcing her arms to give up their give. A practiced motion. Wolf threw herself to the floor, flowing onto her feet. Fixing the men with her meanest fucking look.

She knew one, a kind-faced ex-Paladin who'd reassured her about the whole process. He stood forwards to obstruct her. More than anything — infuriatingly — he still looked politely sad, the exact same look he'd had when they talked the first time.

He handed Oracle off to the other man, who Wolf had never fucking seen before, and who was burly and utterly-stone faced in a way that made her hate him. Her body was thrumming. She was shaking.

"Wolf, Wolf—"

And Dr. Symbal was up and trying to fucking talk at her.

"What the fuck?"

Oracle was shaking. now. She wasn't fighting it. Her shoulders were hunched in.

Symbal and her oh-so-sad subordinate talked over each-other, for a moment:

"She was—" "Lady Wolf, please—"

And then, more important than either of them, came Oracle's voice.

"It's not your fault! It's not your fault, It's not your fault," insistent, steady yet desperate for understanding, her insistence silencing the room. "You didn't say anything bad, it's not your fault. It just happened. It just happened."

She seemed so vulnerable. When, ever, had her scout looked so naked, under-dressed as he was in civilian clothes, now? When, ever, had she ever begged like that? Needed like that? It broke Wolf's heart. It paralysed her.

(…It did something else.)

And then — as if everyone else was done waiting to see if Wolf was going to start stabbing people — the moment broke, and she was gone. Co-operating with the boys rushing her out. Then, with the closing shut of a thick door: silence. Silence, leaving Symbal to answer. Wolf spun to face her.

"Why?" Wolf basically shouted, right as Symbal opened her mouth. The woman looked genuinely scared, for whatever that was worth.

Then: gathered herself. "…She was… having a moment. The type we shouldn't encourage."

"A moment? Care to be more fucking specific?"

"You—" Oh, and she went to sounding so cross, the moment someone said something the woman disagreed with. She squinted. "She was practically groping you."

"She was— that was—"

…Okay. Yeah. Thinking back. That was true. Wolf had barely noticed.

Wolf deflated. Remembered exactly how the girl had been acting, only a few months ago. "Fuck me. But that's still a fucking overreaction, isn't it? She said it had passed."

(She said something else, too, a part of Wolf said, underneath the adrenaline rush. Lords above. …Whatever. Think about that later.)

(Fuck.)

"She would have said anything, in that state. To get what she wanted. Couldn't you tell? That she'd become... That she'd changed over."

Yeah, a lot of girls will 'say anything' if she's an Oracle-cycle who knows you have two big fucking guys waiting to grab her! Wolf didn't say that. But the vitriol rose in her throat, demanding, still. "Oh, fuck you."

"It's my building, Wolf. Trust me, if we didn't break her up from you in that state, she might have done permanent damage to her own recovery." Symbal moved to leave — out to the foyer, implicitly inviting Wolf to follow her out. "And potentially to you." A moment's hesitation. Then: "You don't know everything about her, anymore. You have to trust me on these things. If we're going to get anywhere, you have to trust that I understand her better than you do."

The worlds lanced something through Wolf's heart. Got lodged there. She didn't expect it. Wanted to bite back. Except that she didn't have an immediate answer, as the doctor walked away.

…But she had some choice fucking thoughts on what she was going to do next.