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They call them trinity (chapter 8)

Well that was quite a day.
She got Pearl to call the federal army, and handed Jenna over. She had half of the journal in her corset, and Hannah recovered the other half from Ty's saddle - Grace had managed to cut the leather and sew it back, so Hannah had to literally rip it apart. The whole journal is sitting on the bedside table, and Hannah doesn't have the energy to look through it and try to make sense of it. She'll do that tomorrow.
Now she has a ceiling to look at, in the yellow light shed by a short candle. There's a pile of objects which can be used to cut, tie or shoot that she collected from Grace's room. It's late, she's exhausted, but she keeps jumping at every faint noise. Until she can't take it anymore.
Grace wakes up to the sound of light snoring. It's barely sunrise and the streets are still silent, only a few birds are chirping in the distance. She frowns, confused, and looks around, until she spots a blonde mop of hair on the floor - its owner wrapped in a mess of bedsheets.
"What the fuck." She says under her breath.
She turns before she remembers that every inch of her body aches, and hisses as quietly as she can. She heard Hannah coming back the night before, and Weichel's pocket watch told her it was 2.37am. She tries to get back to sleep, but she's been lying in the same position for too long, she feels numb and not tired enough. The thought that it could be over - if only Hannah would mind her own business - is making her irritable. She moves a leg from one side to the other, relentlessly, since it's the only movement that doesn't make her face twist in pain.
"Cut it, Helbig." A sleepy voice orders from the floor.
"Go back to your bed if you don't like it" Grace replies, and moves her legs once more, producing a rustling noise.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Hannah asks, lifting herself in a weak push up. She stretches her back with a grunt and falls back on the floor, rubbing her eyes. Grace can't help but feel sorry for that bundle of bones sleeping on the hard wood boards.
"What are you doing there?" she asks.
"Sleeping? Or trying to."
"You know what I mean."
"Well, I was worried you'd jump out the window and I couldn't sleep. So I thought this might be the only solution."
Grace rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and makes sure her body language is clearly stating that this is utter nonsense.
"Do that as much as you want, Legs. You can't stop me." And as she says that, Hannah jumps up, in a pair of boxers briefs and a wife-beater, her hair defeating every law of physics. Grace raises an eyebrow at Hannah's weak attempts at exercise.
"Hello." Hannah says once she's done stretching and jumping, and makes sure she doesn't break eye contact until Grace replies with a condescending "Hi."
"See, I realised something." Hannah explains "You literally can't stop me. You're too weak. So I'm going to take care of you, whether you like it or not. And when you're strong enough to make me stop, I'll stop and fucking run - cause I'm actually quite fond of my life."
Grace stares at her, speechless.
"Glad we agree." Hannah concludes, and starts folding her bedsheets. She then opens the window, letting a fresh morning breeze in. Grace scratches her neck, trying to wrap her head around the fact that she's being forced to get better.
"I am going to get a nurse to wash you once a day, and reapply all that stuff." She waves a hand towards the bottle that Tyler left, while getting dressed "Pearl will send someone with lunch. I have quite a lot to sort out but I'll try to come back early enough in the afternoon. Any objection?"
Grace just squints at her, unimpressed, her mouth twisted to one side.
"I thought so." Hannah says satisfied.
Once she's fully dressed, she goes downstairs and comes back with milk, coffee, bacon, eggs and bread on a tray, and a basket full of fresh oranges.
"Orange you happy I got you some food?" Hannah asks rolling the round fruit between her fingers.
"Dear baby Jesus" Grace mutters.
The short girl serves a plate to Grace and prepares one for herself, eating contentedly while sitting on a chair. Her legs are resting on the window frame, while she stares off in the distance.
Grace eats slowly, her body feels somehow wary of food and she's never sure the next bite will settle well. But she manages to clean her plate, and suddenly feels sleepy again. Hannah cleans up as quietly as she can, noticing that Grace's eyes are struggling to stay open. She rests a hand on the woman's forehead to check her temperature, and once she's sure she has no fever, she leaves the room.
Later that morning, Grace wakes from an even louder snoring.
"Han, for fucks sake!" She says, but quickly realises there's no one on the floor. She turns, confused, checking the bed, and finds a tiny lump on her bedsheets.
"Beanz..." She realises as she pulls the covers from the dog, and finds a white napkin tied around the animal's neck where Hannah wrote a message. Grace stretches the fabric and tries to pull together her rusty reading skills "Please don't... kill yourself, you'd break... her heart" A childish drawing of a tiny dog with a broken heart completes the message. Grace can't help smiling, and surrenders to the inevitability of surviving. The tiny dog wakes up and blinks, confused, because when she fell asleep she was on a horse's back and now she wrapped in nicely smelling bedsheets. Her dog brain must tell her there's nothing to be worried about, and as Grace strokes her head her eyes slowly close again, her hanging tongue leaving a wet patch on the fabric.
- - -
The days pass slowly, but faster than Grace expects. In the morning, Hannah jumps up from the floor with a new impossible hairstyle that eventually ends up in a small bun. She brings breakfast and fresh fruits, makes some horrible food related puns, then leaves for the morning.
In the afternoon, Hannah comes back from her meetings and inevitably says "Who's been a bed girl?", to which Grace soon stops rolling her eyes, and discovers the unexpected comfort of habits. The girl stubbornly reads passages from the Bible to her - not because she's particularly religious, but because that's the only book she could find. She reads out loud and comments on every paragraph, pointing out the utter nonsense of a God telling people what to do as if he cared at all. When she's alone, Grace reads it again out of boredom, and her reading skills improve enough for her to read new passages by herself.
Sometimes, they just talk. That's how Hannah finds out that Grace has two brothers, back in New Jersey, and her parents are probably still alive. She left five years ago and worked her way to the West Coast offering her skills to women abused by their husbands, small villages ruled by violent sheriffs, and private companies transporting gold. She stepped on the wrong feet a couple of times, and her face ended up on one to many "wanted" signs, so she had to move west again. Nearly starved to death, she offered her services to Jenna.
"So you're not that bad of a guy, are you?"
"I am pretty bad" Grace assures "Kinda had to. I've always done what no one else wanted to do, 'cause no one wants to give a job to this face." Grace recollects "But you know, if you're a clever woman, you know where your husband keeps the gold... and you're very grateful to the motherfucker who helped you get rid of him. So there's good money to be made with widows."
"How about Woodman? He was an honest man."
Grace lowers her eyes, and nods "Yeah, he was. That's one job I regret taking."
"Is that why you got drunk?"
"Mh" Grace tilts her head in the vaguest possible way.
"Is that why you didn't kill me? Cause I'm an honest gal?" Hannah pulls a fake but hopeful smile.
Grace laughs "Sure you are."
- - -
Another week goes by, and Hannah is very excited because today is a special day. She has no meetings scheduled, she just needs to go to the tailor and pick up her new waistcoat - she ordered an embroidered one similar to Tyler's. She's back at the Black Pearl when is still mid-morning, and decides to check on Grace. The doctor said she'd need four weeks to completely recover, but she should be able to walk by now. Instead she barely stands up to stumble to the window and back. She knocks at Grace's door, no answer - as usual. She enters the room. Empty.
No. It can't be.
She finds herself shaking, and brings a hand to her mouth, as if that could hold all the swearwords that are bubbling in her throat.
They took Grace.
She looks around, lost, searching for a sign, a key that could tell who, or how. That could tell where Grace is. She fumbles with the bedsheets, looking for blood. Seems like no one was hurt - which is weird, because surely Grace would put up a fight. The clothes that should be on the chair are gone. How the...
The door opens, and Grace walks in, stretching her arms above her head. She drops them immediately when she sees the girl staring at her like she just saw a ghost.
"Han, you... you're early." Grace is obviously uncomfortable. Hannah notices that she's fully dressed, and standing, and walking around, and stretching her arms and "What the hell is going on, Grace?" She finds herself saying.
"I guess... I'm feeling better, that's it."
"You're feeling better? You're walking! You're not supposed to walk. You're not supposed to stretch or dress yourself. Yesterday you could barely stand!"
"Mh" she mumbles, and shrugs "Bodies... they're weird."
Hannah keeps staring, her lips parted in disbelief. She's surprised that her words came out a little more upset than she'd liked it to. She should be happy that Grace's feeling better. And she is. Grace turns to look inside the closet, a glimpse of embarrassment crossing her face for a split second. She turns a belt in her hands, and slowly puts it on.
"Ok, well... that's great." Hannah finally says "Can you... are you completely recovered then?"
"Yeah. All good." She turns and pats decisively where the bullets went through her flesh, now completely healed.
"Wow..." Hannah is really impressed "Tyler really knows his shit."
And then she knows. She'd known it for a while now, she's ready. She straightens up, untangles the wrinkles on her forehead, and smiles a little.
"I guess that means I can go now."
Grace nods. A quiet resignation is clouding Hannah's eyes, she's been there many times before. There's a time when she's not welcome anymore, when the girl has to go back to her life, her father, her husband. She's used to it. Although this time she's not sure where Grace is going back to.
"Cool" Hannah continues, and waves a hand towards the desk "I'll get packing. The bill for the room is paid, I'll sort out the nurse tomorrow, you don't have to worry. And there's a tailor down the road who - "
Hannah's words die on Grace's lips, now pressed on hers in such an unsure way, Hannah feels she needs to somehow explain her how it's done once and for all. So she pushes forward, because Grace is leaning down a bit too much and she's about to lose balance. She's so clumsy, Hannah thinks as she kisses back, and Grace feels a smile curling the girl's lips.
"Shut up" Grace mutters before kissing her again, and again. Her hands curl in the air, and her fists end up on the girl's shoulder, unsure. As always, Hannah comes to the rescue, unfolding Grace's fingers and pressing her palms on her own collarbones. It's sweet, Grace thinks, and oddly familiar, the way Hannah's tongue strokes her own, and how she suddenly got very serious, her smile lost into the kiss. A moan escapes Hannah's throat, and it's enough to make Grace's palms press harder, until Hannah's back hits the wall and there's no space left between their bodies. Grace needs to fight the urge to slap the girl when she decides to push her slightly, breaking the kiss for no fucking reason. Baby blue eyes are looking at Grace now, one eyebrow slightly too high, questioning.
"Is that what you were doing?" Hannah's smirk reappears.
"We're not going to talk about it." Grace mutters, and leans in to kiss her again. But Hannah is having none of it, and holds her firmly, forcing her to make eye contact.
"Grace, were you pretending to be injured so I wouldn't leave?" Her expression is so excited, Grace thinks if she had a tail it'd be wagging.
"You're not in any position to ask questions" Grace points out, pushing Hannah against the wall once more. Hannah's eyes flutter slightly and her tongue darts between her lips - she's into this, Grace realises. Her hesitation is enough, Grace kisses once more, and it's harsher now, hotter. Hannah lets out a sound that goes straight to Grace's head, and suddenly her hands are not unsure anymore.
She's kissing and biting and pushing, and Hannah can only respond as much as her broken breath allows. Her hands slide from Grace's cheek to her hair, holding - or she'll drown, there's no doubt. Her shirt is unbuttoned now, and her trousers opened. But when Grace's fingers touch her, it's a stormy night in a desert settlement all over again - Hannah grabs Grace's wrist, firmly, and whispers: "This is not how it's going down this time."
Grace freezes. She feels the guilt surging again, and stutters something, but before she can put her apology together Hannah's kissing her again, softly, slowly, and gently slides her hand out from her trousers. She tangles their fingers together, reassuring Grace that nothing has been broken, it's just a matter of rethinking who's in charge.
And it's definitely not Grace, as she melts in Hannah's painfully sweet kisses and lets herself be guided to the bed. All of a sudden, she is laying under a girl's body - only it's not sudden at all, because Hannah's movement are slow and careful, and Grace must've lost any sense of time. And she's learning there's a river that runs through her body, rising from those kisses and falling to her stomach in waterfalls, making it turn and flutter - and then it flows further, twisting in whirlpools, spreading liquid pleasure between her legs. Skilful fingers are opening the buttons of her shirt, their touch so delicate she only realises when they're halfway down her chest.
"Don't." Grace whispers, and her eyes flip open, imploring. They're heavy with something that can only be described as sadness.
"Grace..." Hannah hands promptly release the button and strokes the fabric, gently. "Please, let me."
Grace looks away, feeling her eyes watering, and Hannah bends down to kiss her jaw, just below the ear.
"I have seen you, Grace" She says "You're beautiful."
She can hear the woman swallow, and feels a hand reaching up to play with her short hair. "If you don't want me to, I won't look. But know that I really, really want to." As she says it, she keeps nibbling up and down Grace's neck, careful to avoid the littles scars that are peaking out of her shirt. "I want to see them all. I want to read your story."
Grace turns to look once more into the bluest eyes, then takes Hannah's hands and slowly puts them back on the button. "Ok." is all she says, and this is possibly as far as she's ever been into someone else's hands. Hannah repays her with a long, deep kiss - to make sure she knows how grateful she is.
As Grace's chest is left exposed, Hannah's fingers trail gently over her skin, and her eyes wander the lunar landscape unfolding before them. It's so intimate - the way she scrutinises every mark, starting from the left shoulder, where her middle finger circles around the edge of the round bullet hole. Grace holds on to the bedsheets, fighting her instinct to pull Hannah's hands away.
"Does it hurt?" Hannah asks, worried, as the body under hers flinches with every touch.
"No." Grace replies, her voice shaky "It's just very sensitive and... a bit weird."
"I can stop if -
"No. It's ok." Grace cuts her off "This is one of the oldest" she explains as she guides Hannah's fingers back to the round, deep scar. "The sun makes them bigger, but I didn't know... so it looks worse than it should."
"Which one is the oldest?"
"It's this one." Grace holds one of Hannah's fingers and runs it over her cheek.
"I love this one." The girl says, absent-mindedly.
"You freak." Grace giggles, but it's just a moment before her eyes are met by two very serious ones.
"I do. And this one" she adds as she puts a flock of hair behind Grace's scarred ear. "And this one" Hannah lowers herself to kiss a small mark on Grace's right shoulder. "And this one" She kisses again, this time a long line that runs from her shoulder blade down to her sternum. "And this one." She continues, naming every scar she finds on her way down to Grace's hips, where the most recent one is still pink and slightly swollen. "This one... not so sure" But she kisses it nonetheless. And maybe it's the new skin, maybe it's because it's so close to where she really wants to be kissed, but Grace finds herself shivering at the touch.
Her denims are pulled down, together with the shorts sheis wearing underneath, and if Hannah finds less scars to kiss on the way up, it's still enough to make Grace moan in frustration. Hannah's glad to notice that one of Grace's hands went from clenching the bedsheets to her hair: she's pulling her now, but it feels like she doesn't really know where she wants her to go. She just needs to get her to do something, anything that's less delicate, less airy. But Hannah is enjoying this, and maybe she wants to have a little payback for the two weeks of heavy heart she had to endure.
"Do you remember when you told me too strong and too short was not the best technique?" Hannah asks, and Grace just grunts a little in response, and nods because yeah, sure - not the moment.
"It's true for many things." She says before her lips trail the path from Grace's hipbone to the soft skin at the end on her thigh, the tip of her tongue barely touching. And the hand in her hair gets more demanding, pushing to the side, but Hannah resists and bites just above the most sensitive areas, leaving Grace sighing.
"Remind me why I didn't kill you?" A broken voice asks from somewhere further up the bed.
Hannah's teeth drag on her skin, and a fingers insinuates between her legs, finding a wet spot. "I think this is a fairly good explanation." She says casually, as her finger strokes imperceptibly. When her hand stops, it's both too close and too far. Grace twists a foot and is a wink away from pushing Hannah inside her, the only thing stopping her is the memory of that night, and Hannah's red eyes the morning after. She is not going to force anything anymore.
"Han, I'm going to - fuck" Hannah's tongue catches up with her fingers, then she moves them in opposite directions. It's infuriatingly slow and Grace's body is starting to shake as Hannah's tongue draws circles and arrows and letters and then sucks, and Grace's hand follows the tiny bounces of the girl's head. It's delicate enough for Hannah's breath to matter, and the hot air coming out of her lips is nearly as arousing as the little strokes her hardened tongue is now performing.
"Han please." Grace whispers, an arm now covering her eyes. The way Hannah's fingers are now deliberately pushing inside her is making her muscles pulse like a calm heartbeat - which isn'' what Grace's heart is doing right now, and the two conflicting rhythms are driving her out of her goddam mind.
Hannah is almost surprised when the woman's body suddenly gives in, way sooner than she thought, and her every muscle starts shivering uncontrollably. As she raises her head, the smirk on her face is bordering evil and her fingers start moving faster, mercilessly. And Grace's eyes widen, and her mouth opens, and she looks... scared? Hannah's face falls as a hand grabs her throat, and Grace's voice is nearly a cry for help when she says: "What are you doing to me?"
"Grace..." Hannah strangled voice is barely a whisper. Thankfully, the woman's muscles lost most of their strength, but it's still enough to make her choke. "Grace, wait... please!" Hannah grabs the arm holding her and manages to pull, falling heavily on the floor. She quickly climbs back to the bed where Grace's rolled on one side, her body still run by small quivers. And Hannah wraps her in her arms, pecking gently at her forehead, patiently trying to calm the her down: "It's ok, babe, it's normal. It's fine." Grace's struggling to catch her breath, clutching her arms between her legs. She looks confused and maybe a bit terrified. "It's ok, you're ok." Hannah strokes her hair and whispers little nothings in her ears, until Grace's breaths become even, and she buries her face into her shirt, hot vapour making the fabric warm and slightly damp.
"Grace, honey..." Hannah asks, and clears her throat, looking for the right words to say "Have you never... you know."
"Mh?" Grace's not sure what she's being asked.
"Have you never had an orgasm?"
There's a long silence, and Hannah can almost feel the moment Grace comes to a realisation, as her body stiffens and then relaxes again.
"I thought I did." She replies, coyly.
Hannah can't help a proud smile, and hugs Grace a bit tighter.
"It's ok, babe. Nothing to be worried about." Hannah once again reassures her, and Grace thinks she may get used to it "Bodies... they're weird, huh?"
Grace sighs contentedly, and nods, finally convinced that the girl didn't try to kill her or curse her with a weakening spell. In fact, her muscle are quickly recovering and she's feeling incredibly relaxed. It's funny, she thinks, how she feels the urge to keep Hannah's body as close as possible, and her hands sneak under the girl's shirt and stroke the skin of her waist, ending up tangled behind her back. As Hannah's pulled closer, she can't help a surprised squeak.
"God, you're so cute." Grace mumbles against her chest, and wet, sloppy kisses are now being messily placed on Hannah's sternum. "Do it again." Grace orders.
"Do what?" Hannah asks softly.
"The mouth thing." But then she startles, and stutters "I mean... if you want to. You don't have to. I'm not forcing you..." Grace twists her mouth in half smile "Uhm... please?"
Hannah laughs, wholeheartedly. "Grace, look, let's just... forget about that night ok?"
"But..."
"You don't need to act all jumpy, I think I made it pretty clear I'm into this. And to be honest..." she shuffles slightly in Grace's arms "I kinda like it when you're... demanding."
"You like it, hm?" Grace bites gently at Hannah's shoulder. "What else do you like?"
"I like... when you say my name?"
Grace smiles and rolls on top, satisfied by the answer.
"Then make me."