She stays still, lying on top of Vera, guiding away her backlash. 

The choices narrow down to just this: holding on. Her head clears gradually, the pressure behind her eyes easing as Cara's weight anchors her to the bed. The guiding flows steadier now, pulling the excess away.

She keeps her eyes closed, fingers tracing idle patterns on Cara's back. The smell doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters except the contact and the blessed simplicity of not having to choose anything at all.

"Good," she murmurs against Cara's shoulder. "Just like that."

Cara is getting a good grade in blanket! She stays where she is.

Minutes pass. Maybe longer. The world narrows down to skin and breath and the steady drain of stress flowing away. Her headache fades to a dull throb in her temples. She's still gross, but in this moment, she can push that away. Just for a bit.

Eventually she shifts, just enough to press her lips to Cara's neck. Not quite a kiss. Testing.

"You're being very good," she says quietly. The words come easier now, when there's only one path forward. "I'm feeling much better."

Her hand slides up to tangle in Cara's hair, keeping her close. The awakening backlash is still there, thrumming beneath Cara's skin, but manageable now. Controlled.

"Tell me what you need."

There's a pause, and then - "I don't know."

"Of course you don't." She says it like it's obvious, like it's expected. Her fingers tighten slightly in Cara's hair. "That's not your job right now."

She shifts beneath Cara, adjusting their position so she can see her face properly. Those blank eyes, that perfect emptiness. It's exactly what she wanted, and now that she has it...

"Kiss me," she says, making it simple. One clear instruction. "Just that."

Kiss. She doesn't break it off, but doesn't escalate it either, though her mouth opens slightly, as though to invite Vera to. 

She takes the invitation, deepening the kiss. There's a sour and bitterness to the fluid exchange, bile and hydrochloric acid, and she can feel the pressure draining away. It's perfect. Simple. No choices to make except this.

When she finally pulls back, she's breathing harder. Her hand is still tangled in Cara's hair.

"Good girl." The words come out rougher than intended. She clears her throat. "That's... helping. Both of us."

She should probably let Cara rest. Should probably clean up. Should probably do a lot of things. But right now, with Cara warm and pliant against her, she doesn't want to move.

Cara will certainly make that easy for her! 

They lie there for a while. Five minutes. Ten. She can feel her thoughts settling, narrowing back down to something manageable.

Eventually she shifts, pressing her forehead against Cara's shoulder. "We should... probably clean up." The words come out reluctant. "You need to wash. And I need a new robe."

She doesn't move yet, though. Just traces lazy circles on Cara's back with one finger.

"When I let go, you're going to get up and go to the bathroom. Not a shower, yet. Use my soap." A pause. "Then come back here."

Cara doesn't do anything about this! (Presumably because Vera hasn't let go of her yet.)

She lets out a soft huff of laughter against Cara's skin. Right. Of course.

"So literal," she murmurs. Then, reluctantly, she loosens her grip and shifts away, creating just enough space between them. The loss of contact aches immediately, but it's manageable now.

"Go on, then."

Vera's command is drowned out by Cara yelping loudly in pain.

She - it was just - 

what the fuck

Um. um um um um 

Well. This is sure fucked! And her knees and her foot and her throat and her head hurt...

She needs - to work with Vera for now, probably, this is not going to go well if she doesn't.

"Please - wait - I don't -" 

She freezes. The shift is immediate, unmistakable - the way Cara's body tenses, the sharp clarity in her voice. That's not vacant obedience anymore.

Fuck.

1. Panic!
2. Panic!
3. Panic!
4. Stop her.
5. Panic!
6. Panic!
7. Panic!
8. You know what you have to do.
9. Panic!
10. Panic!
11. Panic!
12. Buy yourself more time.
13. Panic!
14. Panic!
15. Panic!
16. What does being compatible mean, exactly?
17. Panic!
18. Panic!
19. Panic!
20. Panic!
21. You're stronger than her.
22. Open her mouth.

"Don't move." It comes out sharper than intended, but she's already scrambling to sit up, reaching for Cara. Her mind races through options, but they all require her to make decisions and there are too many branches spreading out from this moment.

She settles for contact, her hand finding Cara's shoulder. "Just - breathe. You're okay. I've got you."

The words feel wrong in her mouth. Too gentle. Too reassuring. But what else can she say? Sorry I drugged you and made you say I was your sister while you were dissociating from supernatural backlash?

She freezes - augh - and then starts breathing shakily, faster and faster, as her mind races.

Is Vera going to kill her? Will she be able to do anything about it? She can't move, she can't even talk, she's so so so scared - 

Okay okay okay okay she's just going to

Cara needs to stop hyperventilating it's too loud can she just stop her

1. Panic! Hold her down.
2. Panic! Press your pillow over her face.
3. Panic! Until she stops breathing so hard.
4. Panic! You can carry her out in a bag.
5. Panic! Your car is in a public place. That won't work.
6. Panic!
7. Make it worse.

g. Make it worse?

She picks up a baseball bat from where it was lying on the ground and hits her as hard as she can.

She misses and jams her arm on the bat and falls off the bed and starts crying.

what the actual fuck this girl just tried to fucking kill her with a baseball bat she's going to die she's going to die she's going to die 

she stays still on the bed, hyperventilating for what feels like an eternity, and then - 

the light leaves her eyes as quickly as it came, and her breathing slows.

… is she ok

She's not moving except to breathe, and not making facial expressions! Her heartrate is still elevated. She does not seem otherwise damaged.