Archive of Our Own

"Please, come in," Velasco says. He nods someone standing just outside the door, then steps back, glancing over at Celia with a pleased smile.

The second that passes is the longest Celia has ever known.

And there, suddenly, in the doorway ―

Aurora.

For a moment, Celia can barely breathe.

And then Aurora moves towards her. They move towards each other. Aurora's arms go around Celia; Celia clings to her like a lifeline.

It feels like coming home.

;;

"It feels like a dream," Celia says again, later. It's late into the evening, long after Velasco's left. "I can't believe you're here again. You came back to me."

They're lying on the bed together, on top of the covers, propped up against the pillows. Celia's fingers stroke along Aurora's cheek, trace the curve of Aurora's jaw. Aurora closes her eyes and makes a small sound of contentment. She reaches up and covers Celia's hand with her own, turning Celia's hand so she can press a soft kiss to Celia's palm. Celia's heart turns over slowly in her chest, as she gazes at Aurora.

Aurora, who looks as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as the first day Celia saw her, in the doctor's office. Aurora, the light that Celia had never seen before; she is still the same, even now, after everything that has happened.

"I knew you would find me, cariño," Aurora says quietly. "I knew we would find each other."

"But you wrote that letter." Celia can't help herself, even though she feels like she's spoiling the moment now just by mentioning it. But Aurora just sighs and kisses Celia's palm again, before threading their fingers together.

Aurora says, "I did. Because I was scared of what Clemente might have done to you if you'd found us. I knew you wouldn't ever give up looking for me. And I didn't want you to. But I didn't want you get hurt, either. I was so scared ― "

Celia quiets her with a light kiss. "I understand." Another small kiss. "You always protect me. I should have done more to keep you safe. I'm so sorry."

Aurora shakes her head, then moves in to kiss Celia properly. Her tongue brushes against Celia's bottom lip, sending desire sparking low in Celia's belly. Aurora's hand drifts to Celia's hip, fingers digging in slightly, pulling their bodies closer together. "Don't apologize," Aurora murmurs against Celia's lips when they pull apart. "You didn't do anything wrong. And none of it matters anymore, because I'm here now."

"I won't ever let us be separated ever again," Celia tells her. Her heart is beating fiercely in her chest. Aurora's fingers have found the buttons on the back of Celia's blouse; she's undoing them, one by one by one. Her hand, pressed flat against the small of Celia's back, is warm and comforting. Celia isn't sure that she's ever loved Aurora more than she does this moment right now.

"I promise," Celia whispers. Like a prayer. "I promise."

And after that, there's nothing left to say.

;;

The next morning, Celia tells Velasco that they were up all night talking about the Talion killer, Aurora has to stifle a laugh. She looks over at Celia who winks, grinning. Celia's hand finds Aurora's, squeezing gently. Aurora squeezes back and Celia feels giddy.

When they kiss a few minutes later, right there, right in front of Velasco, Celia heart leaps in her chest. She'll never get over the thrill of being able to kiss Aurora like this in front of other people.

It is such a small thing, really, but it feels so big. So big it threatens to swallow Celia whole.

She doesn't really think she'd mind.

;;

"Come to dinner tonight," Francisca says, on the other end of the phone. "I mean, here, with Aurora. Diana and Elisa have been asking me about her all day! I told them I haven't even gotten a chance to see her again yet either."

Celia laughs. She glances over at Aurora, who is sitting by the windows. There's a book in her hands, but her eyes are not on the book; she's watching Celia instead. Celia flashes her a bright smile. "Okay," she tells Francisca, "we will be there."

It's so strange, Celia thinks, that evening at dinner. Luis had been his usual sulky self and decided not to join them, but Rodolfo is here too, and so is Salvador. It's so strange to have Aurora sitting beside her, eating dinner with Celia and everyone else, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Celia isn't sure if Rodolfo and Salvador know the truth about their relationship, but that doesn't even matter to Celia. She's too in awe of how far things have come.

Halfway through dinner, Aurora looks over at her and smiles.

Celia wants to kiss her right then and there.

(She doesn't, of course. Not like her sisters would mind, but she's still nervous being affectionate with Aurora around other people in situations like this.

Instead, under the table, she traces a heart on Aurora's thigh.

When their arms settle next to each other on the table while waiting for dessert, Aurora inches her pinkie finger over until it's touching Celia's own. Aurora brushes their fingers together so, so lightly. It's the slightest of touches; only one tiny stolen moment.

Celia feels like she's floating.)

"Of course Salvador knows about you and Aurora," Diana explains to Celia. They've retired to the parlor after dinner. Salvador and Rodolfo have gone outside to smoke and talk politics, leaving Celia and Aurora alone with Celia's sisters. "Why wouldn't he?"

She says it so easily, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, that Celia is so overcome, she almost feels like crying.

Celia looks over to the other side of the room to where Blanca and Adela have Aurora engaged in a conversation about Aurora's time in Austria while at nursing school. Her heart swells with pride and love, for both Aurora and sisters. It wasn't so long ago that she was terrified of the idea of them finding out about her and Aurora. But, now, at times like this, she can hardly imagine why she was ever afraid at all.

Aurora tips her head back, laughing at something Blanca's just said. Aurora is glowing in the golden lamplight that floods the room. Her earrings catch the light and sparkle. A tiny little strand of hair has worked its way free of Aurora's elaborate styling. It curls around her ear. Celia imagines kissing the little space below Aurora's ear, imagines inhaling the soapy, perfume flowery-tinged scent of Aurora's hair.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Celia remarks dreamily.

As if realizing she's being watched, Aurora glances over in Celia's direction. Their eyes meet across the room. Celia recalls the slight touch of Aurora's fingers against hers, the phantom motion of her own finger tracing a heart.

Aurora gives Celia a slight, sweet smile.

A smile that's only ever been meant for her.

;;

They spend the night in Madrid at the insistence of Celia's sisters, in the little guest room tucked away at the far end of the house.

"I remember the last time I slept in this room," Aurora says, with a laugh.

When Celia comes out the bathroom after washing her face, Aurora's pulling her hair into a quick, messy braid. All the little loose, curling strands of dark hair that Celia finds so endearing now frame her face. "It's almost impossible to believe how different the circumstances are now, isn't it?"

"I was just thinking along the same lines at dinner." Celia stands at the vanity table. As she takes out her earrings, she watches Aurora undress through the reflection in the mirror, admiring the slope of Aurora's back, the curves of her hips, the pale color of her skin. She'll never get tired of looking at Aurora.

She switches the lights off, crawling into bed beside Aurora. She giggles when they come together, beneath the sheets and blankets, Aurora's arms coming around her. "Remember before we moved to Arganzuela, the nights when I snuck in to see you in here?"

Aurora gives an exasperated little shake of her head, smiling. "I kept telling you not to!"

"I couldn't help it." Celia kisses Aurora, laughing. "I was just so excited to finally have you back in my life again. I missed you so much . . . "

The mood seems to shift slightly, then. Aurora reaches up to brush the hair out of Celia's eyes. "I missed you too, mi amor."

She kisses Celia, all sweet and slow and deliberate. Celia puts her hand on Aurora's thigh, tracing lines up and down, around in circles. Aurora moans into Celia's mouth, deepening the kiss.

"We don't have to be quiet this time." Celia's hand skims lower, working its way underneath the hem of Aurora's nightgown and then moving back up. Aurora shifts, her legs parting slightly; Celia flexes her fingers, strokes lightly. She grins when she hears the hitch of Aurora's breath and presses a little bit harder, strokes a little bit more purposefully.

"No," Aurora manages to say, her mouth against the junction between Celia's neck and collarbone. She nips at the soft skin there; not hard, Celia knows, but it'll still leave a mark come the next day. "We don't. But we probably should." Celia feels Aurora chuckle. "I don't think your sisters would appreciate otherwise."

Celia sighs, feigning disappointment. "Probably not."

Aurora nips again, then pushes on Celia's shoulders until Celia is on her back. Aurora moves on top of her, straddling Celia's hips. Celia can't help but grind up against her, excitedly. Aurora's fingers encircle Celia's wrists as she leans down to kiss Celia. It's sloppy this time, all tongues and no finesse.

"Just pretend we're back to how we used to be," Aurora teases. "Pretend like it's that first evening when you crept in to see me, when we had to be so careful and quiet. Just remember that."

She releases Celia's hands, kissing her again once quickly before kissing her way down the length of Celia's body, through the thin material of her nightgown. Celia whimpers, when she feels Aurora's warm breath on the inside of her thigh. Her fingers catch in the sheets, balling them in her fist.

Aurora's tongue is pressing, insistent. When she comes, Celia has to bite down her hand to muffle her cries. She sees bright, tiny stars behind her eyelids, the quick thud of blood pounding in her ears. A moment later, when Aurora crawls back up beside her, Celia peppers her face with tiny, needy kisses; she wraps one leg around Aurora, drawing her in as close as they can get.

It's never close enough.

Much later, Aurora curls up against Celia, nuzzling against her neck. She whispers sleepy terms of endearment in Celia's ear. Schätzchen. Liebling. Spatzi. Her breath against Celia's skin sends little shivers of pleasure up and down Celia's body.

They fall asleep like that, still holding hands.

;;

They're halfway home from the tram stop, when suddenly the clouds that had been threatening rain the whole ride from Madrid open up on them. "Come on!" Celia yells. She reaches for Aurora and they run like schoolgirls, hand-in-hand, laughing, through the streets, until they find shelter in a small alley.

Aurora collapses against Celia, breathless; Celia's arms go around her instinctively. Aurora looks up at Celia, grinning, rain dripping from her hair, running down the side of her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink with exertion. Beautiful, Celia thinks. She's constantly amazed by it.

And then something changes in Aurora's expression; it grows softer, more thoughtful. Aurora straightens, puts her hand against Celia's cheek. She nudges Celia back against the brick wall behind her, brushes her nose along the bridge of Celia's nose. Celia's head spins from the smell of Aurora's perfume, like lilacs in full bloom, and her unbearable closeness. She can feel herself dissolving into molecules underneath Aurora's hands.

Their mouths are dangerously close. Nearly touching.

"We can't do this," Celia says gently, cautiously. But she doesn't pull away.

"Can't we?"

"Someone might see."

"I don't care," Aurora says. "This is the happiest I've ever been."

Oh, Celia thinks.

Aurora's hand slides from Celia's cheek to the back of her head and then she's kissing Celia, slow and soft. Celia can hear the patter of rain all around them, the slow roll of thunder in the distance. Aurora's fingers are in her damp hair, her lips taste like rainwater. It's almost a shame, Celia thinks, that there isn't actually anyone around to see them now, their bodies pressed together so tightly, her heart so full to bursting.

When they pull away, Celia doesn't open her eyes right away; she lets the kiss linger, Aurora's forehead resting against Celia's own. For just this moment, it's like they're the only two people left in the world.

"I love you," Aurora says. Her hand finds Celia's, their fingers interlocking.

This is the happiest Celia has ever been, too.

;;

They kiss, and Eugenia starts to cry. Aurora laughs, joking that Eugenia won't tell on them. She picks Eugenia up and cradles Eugenia in her arms, rocking her gently. She murmurs German to her as she does so ― Aurora insists it'll help Eugenia learn it later when she's older; she's always trying to get Celia to talk to Eugenia in French and English.

"She'll be just like us," Aurora told Celia, as they'd curled up on the couch in Adela's house one afternoon, tasked with watching over their new niece for a few hours. Aurora, her arm draped over Celia's shoulders, had given Celia's arm a small squeeze. "We'll teach her to speak all the languages we know."

(Adela, of course, had loved that idea. Encouraged it, even.)

Celia watches Aurora for a bit from across the room, taking in the sight of her.

Aurora looks so happy, standing there in Adela's parlor, in the bright midday sunlight, holding their niece in her arms, soothing Eugenia back to sleep. Aurora looks ― Celia can't quite find the word. She finally settles on peaceful and it startles her, how true it actually is.

And then, out of nowhere, it strikes her that this could have been their lives That they could have been parents. For a while she'd forgotten about Aurora being pregnant, of the excited way she'd pressed her hand against Aurora's stomach to feel the baby kick, of the way Aurora had said they were going to have a child.

Ours, she'd said. This baby is going to be ours. We're going to be a family.

And then Clemente had destroyed all that. All of that dreaming. All of that planning. All of that happiness, ruined in the blink of an eye. Just as easy as that.

Everything rushes back to her. The image of Aurora lying bloody and bruised on the floor of their small house. The way Aurora had cried out with every horrible, awful contraction, and how she'd known right away that something was wrong ― but Celia had assured her, had said it over and over again like she could make it come true just by saying it, that everything would be fine.

It wasn't, of course. Because of course it wouldn't be.

The guilt and sadness over it had been like a rock on her chest, crushing her, cracking her ribs in two. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that Aurora felt that a thousand times over. They'd been drowning. She hadn't known then, how she'd had the strength to hold their heads above water for as long as she did; looking back now, she still does not.

She doesn't know how looking at something so lovely can make her feel such overwhelming sadness. It's so strange; it makes her feel sick and out of sorts. She can't stand it. She has to cross the room to take Aurora in her arms, wordlessly. Embracing Aurora from behind, her hands slide around Aurora's waist, under where she's holding Eugenia, who's fallen back asleep. Celia presses a hard kiss to Aurora's cheek, her chin coming to rest on Aurora's shoulder.

"Oh?" Aurora twists her head to look at Celia, frowning with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Celia says. And then, after a pause: "Not anymore."

But she holds Aurora just a little bit tighter.

;;

Celia's head is spinning from too much wine and the closeness of Aurora, who strokes her fingers lightly up and down Celia's bare forearm. Aurora's mouth presses tiny, feather-light kisses against Celia's shoulder. A tiny flame of desire licks low in her belly, then spreads. Putting two fingers under Aurora's chin, she tilts Aurora's head up so that their mouths can meet for a soft, languid kiss.

"I'm sleepy." Celia mumbles, against Aurora's mouth when they part. She inches forward in the bed, arches her hips against Aurora's. "But ― "

"But?"

Aurora kisses her again, smiling. Her head dips back down to trail kisses along Celia's collarbone. Her hand comes up to cover Celia's breast, her thumb brushing against Celia's nipple. Her thigh moves between Celia's legs.

"But . . . " Celia trails off with a pleased sigh, slipping her own hand downwards, eliciting a moan from Aurora. She reaches down to hitch up her nightgown to her waist, shifting, so that she's half on top of Celia. Her hand slides up the inside of Celia's own thigh, seeking her out.

They make love slowly, quietly. Aurora's breath comes fast and damp and hot against Celia's neck. Celia strokes until her wrist aches, while she comes undone by all the fine strokes of Aurora's fingers. She kisses Aurora when she comes, shuddering. Aurora follows only a moment later, pressed hard against Celia, fingertips digging into the soft skin of Celia's thigh.

Celia exhales shakily, wrapping her arms around Aurora, tries to slow her racing heart.

Aurora brushes a hand through Celia's hair, pushing it back away from her face. She plants a light kiss on Celia's forehead. Celia leans down and captures Aurora's lips in a long kiss, before rolling over onto her side. She grabs Aurora's hand and wraps Aurora's arm around her waist.

"Meine Liebe," Aurora purrs. She nestles in against Celia. She kisses Celia's ear, through her hair.

Celia never gets tired of hearing Aurora say those two words. She remembers the first time Aurora said them to her, that late evening in the Ambigu when they danced together in front of everyone. She remembers the rush of joy, the sense that they were toeing the line of something dangerous; she might have kissed Aurora then and there, in front of everyone. If only she'd thought she could.

And then them, the next day, briefly holding hands on a park bench. Aurora laughing, teasing, leaning in to whisper Meine Liebe next to Celia's ear. How Celia had meant it more than anything, when she'd said the only thing that mattered to her was having Aurora by her side.

How far they'd come since then.

(she still loves Aurora as much as she did then;

that was the one thing that hadn't changed

or maybe it had ―

because she thinks maybe she loves her even more now.)

"Te quiero," she whispers fiercely, into the darkness.

The grip around Celia's waist tightens a little more. Protectively, almost.

Aurora's fingers find the smooth skin on inside of Celia's wrist, trace over the long, thin scar there.

"I still want to do everything with you," she says against Celia's shoulder. Her words are muffled, dreamy.