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For several days she couldn't leave her side for a moment. An occasional hand on her back, passing by in the kitchen while making breakfast, hips pressed closely during another Golden Girls marathon, like a reminder that they're – she is – here, and is not going anywhere. That's crazy, Carol wonders, how isolation can change a person. Forty days ago she would have done everything to have Them leave her alone, but now the woman is afraid to stay with her own thoughts for more than a minute.
All of this – a manipulation, to break her, to make her beg for their return, perhaps a way to get her permission to join Them. Carol knows this, and, not so surprisingly, it worked. And maybe she didn't wish to become part of the global Hivemind, but the way she felt when she finally saw Zosia after four weeks of isolation was really close to the edge.
Carol had never felt anything like the relief she felt at that moment. When she, sobbing, clung to a taller woman for a dear life, as if wanting to erase any distance that exists between them. She remembers a feeling of peace, the realization that she is not alone, Zosia's here, Zosia is really here.
Someone, who wasn't exactly someone, rather a part of a Collective mind, held her so tightly and close that it was almost embarrassing, if Carol cared at least a bit. Brunette's body was warm and her heartbeat steady against Carol's ear. Zosia's palm moving gently along her back, firm and grounding. The presence was so comforting and soothing the blonde really thought she might fall asleep.
Since that day, since 'Maybe we should go inside' and 'Could you..stay for tonight?' they settled in a somewhat routine. Carol never asked Zosia to leave so she didn't. Every morning, the younger woman prepares breakfast while telling various of Fun Facts like 'Did you know that there're omelettes that are made with flour? They're more common in Eastern Europe and Turkey.'* or 'Breakfast can promote social bonding! People, who regularly eat breakfast with their families often develop better eating habits.' Carol realize she missed even these.
She also caught herself drinking less. Of course, one or two glasses of whiskey every night can't be considered complete coding, but nobody is perfect. At least she's not drowning herself in alcohol so she can't remember where she is in the morning.
Zosia insists on quality spending time, so they started going for walks almost every day, whether it's to the spa or to some museum, and although Carol has been to them more than she wanted to in the past month, it feels different with the other woman. Nicer. She also noticed that the brunette had become more free with her touches. A hand on her thigh, fingers trailing lazily in slow, delicate motions. Massaging her shoulders after a long day — just the way Carol likes.
The weirdest part of this is that she kinda enjoys it. Though she never really was a physical type, preferred words or actions more, with Zosia it became pretty simple. Maybe because the brunette was a first person — if she can call her that — she was interact with in forty days, or maybe something else, but Carol started not only savour the gesture; reciprocate it with the same effort. On quite afternoons, when the sun began to set over the horizon, they settle on a couch, Carol's reading a book, her hand in Zosia's hair, who's sprawled with her head on blonde's lap, fast asleep. Sometimes she hums, and the sound makes small smile appear on Carol's lips.
But who can blame her? Zosia's probably the most gorgeous woman she has ever seen, her smile always so wide and genuine it's actually nauseous. Brown eyes that are directed right at her, with immense warmth and care, which causes strange ache in her chest. When she holds her, Carol feels like she is special, the only person in the world and all this love is reserved just for her. It doesn't matter who really Zosia is — a person, a collective, an alien virus in a human body — the fact that she is here, Carol can touch her, hug her, feel the warmth of her skin is enough.
And now, she lays in her bed, long past midnight, her mind drifting to the past week. It is crazy, absolutely insane what they've been doing, if Carol could think straight she would be truly sick of herself. But she's not, drowning at the lowest point of her mental state, and if this beautiful brunette is the only thing that can keep her lucid, she will take it. And it has nothing to do with the way Zosia's arms are wrapped around her from behind and her breath is on Carol's neck. How she pulls her closer and unconsciously (or is she?) kisses her hair. Absolutely not.
Carol turns over to face her, and sleep quickly finds her.