Quick Rose/Cybil drabble. If you don't like it, don't read it, because I won't pay any attention to flames.
Rose follows Cybil out of the now wooden doors, still gasping and shaking. She runs a hand through her hair, feeling sick, and trying to compose herself.
Cybil is still holding onto her gun with a white knuckled grip. "What the fuck," she swears, voice no more than a whisper. "What the fuck! You saw that, right?"
She turns to Rose, voice rising in volume and pitch. "That was real? What the fuck is going on!"
Rose looks up into Cybil's face. After the hell she's been through, it's the most beautiful thing she feels she's seen in weeks.
"Alright," Rose says, trying to keep her voice low, soothing. She can tell it's not working. "Alright, I know this is crazy, I know," she says more firmly, finally getting Cybil's attention. "But we've gotta calm right down, because—"
And whatever she's about to say next gets caught somewhere in her throat when Cybil reaches out with gloved hands to take her face and kiss her.
And to Rose, it feels like the most natural thing to part her lips and let Cybil push her to the floor. Because Cybil's weight is solid above her, anchoring her, and because she needs this, needs a moment where she doesn't have to be strong.
Rose can feel tears sliding hot down the sides of her face, though she isn't aware of crying, focusing on the blood pounding in her head and the rabbit fast pulse beneath Cybil's skin. She lets Cybil remind her that they're still alive, that they're still holding on.
Because as long as she has breath, Rose knows there's still a chance to find Sharon.
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