“I haven’t taken a bath in a while,” said Ori. “I feel like I’ve spent my whole life  just standing under a shower for thirty seconds, then rushing off on the next mission. This is the first time in my life I don’t have something to go do since… ever. When I was a kid, the nuns just told us what to do. Then well, you know. The program.”

“I wonder,”  Tara stretched, “if you will enjoy planning your days and missions instead of taking orders.  Or, if you will miss it and feel a need for a new boss to be in your life.”

Ori smiled to herself with her eyes closed as Tara continued. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing to want someone holding the wheel, I guess.  Don’t feel like I’m saying that. It’s just you’re so … good at everything. You do have a natural talent for leadership. You’re incredibly gifted… but just because you can do a thing, doesn’t mean you want to.”

“I don’t know what I want. Not everything, at least. I suppose I’ll have to try to figure that out when we get back to the States.”

She didn’t say anything in response to that, not at first.  For a while she was quiet, looking up at the sky above them.  “You don’t mind that I … well, that I sorta decided on Philly without talking to you first, do you?  I mean… I should have. I knew you might want to be with me and I think it was an ‘us’ decision it’s just… well, my family.  My parents are buried there. We have businesses and stuff.”

“I was always going to follow you, Tara. New York had just started to become my home… all the other cities are new to me, really. One city is as good as any other, at least to me.”

“Home isn’t a place.”  Tara said and then chuckled, closing her eyes.  “Love is a choice. Knowledge is power. Scars are beautiful.  Honesty is a gift you give. Home isn’t a place.” Each phrase seemed to have weight and after speaking them Tara let herself float in the water.

“Is that a poem? A song?” asked Ori.

Tara spoke easily, letting the words flow out of her. “Love is a choice is what Frank DiCaprio said to Lucy when he asked her to marry him.  It was, perhaps, the most important lesson of her life if you take Bella’s word for it.  It was, a theme?  Like, if life was a story, what is the point of yours?  Each thing I said, it’s the point of someone’s story that I’ve been told.  Someone related to me, if distantly.  Knowledge is power… it’s a theme from a story I haven’t personally read, but read my grandmother’s opinion of.  Scars are beautiful was her own thoughts about her own life.  Scars being more than marks on bodies of course - but the experiences we have, good and bad.  Honesty is a gift you give is something mom used to say all the time, but if I were to say her life had a theme, it would be home isn’t a place.  It’s family.”

“Mom’s story was always about families.  What they were, what it meant to belong to one, or build one… to hold it together against every odd imaginable.  Maybe even sacrifice all you hold dear for it.  Home was a place mom was always trying to get back to, but I think maybe she eventually learned home was with us.  Wherever we were, that was her home.  She lived in Chicago, Detroit, New York, Philly, Vegas … Canada.  Honestly, mom had more homes than you can shake a stick at, but for most of her life, her eyes were focused on getting back to Race Street in Philly … I don’t think she longed for it anymore.  I like to think that before the end she finally felt like she was home again, with all of us.”
“I think so too. That’s the impression I got from her.” Ori had leaned her head back against the mud, and she was fully reclined up to her neck. Tara had never seen her so relaxed; Ori was practically asleep.

Tara stared at Oriana, trying to remember everything just as it was in this quiet moment.  Still, the image of her on the hood of her car was vivid behind her eyelids.  The image was only matched by the one of her on the floor of the villa.  Tara sighed and slipped a little lower into the water, letting it come up to her chin.

“You’ll be healed up before you know it.”  Tara said finally, looking across the water at her.  “You’ll probably get bored in Philly working for some random boss who we have no real connections to.  We’ll have to find ways to keep things interesting.  Missions of our own… adventures.  I don’t like you jumping out of cars racing down streets and getting shot Ori - but I like how happy you are when you’re using the skills you put so much work into.  It’s part of who you are, and … I promise we won’t sit on our hands in Philly forever even if I need to put some serious time in there for a while - for Gavin and the kids, you know?  I gotta make sure they’re taken care of, Mom and Dad were counting on me to do that.”

“Mmm. You’ll take care of them.”

“I hope so.  I mean… of course, I will.”  Tara rolled her head, trying to force the tension out of her body.  “Just, going to take some work. Need to decide what my priorities will be.  Trying to save Dad’s companies, seeing what I can salvage… whether or not I have enough money or even a care to … well, you know, go forward with my own plans.”  She swallowed. “Liber. I’m just… not sure that it’s the right time now, after everything that’s happened maybe it goes on a shelf for a while, but then there’s the matter of Bacchus’ employees.  I mean, I can’t keep taking care of them forever without actually employing them. I’ll go broke. Correction, I am going broke every day they aren’t bringing me in cash. I mean, I basically left a whole group of people sitting in apartments on the east coast with thumbs up their asses waiting to see if I’m going to make good on my words to Bacchus … all the while they got nothing going for them and nowhere to go if I don’t.”

“Well, we don’t have to spend too much time here,” said Ori. “ I think you found what your mother wanted you to find. And I feel better. Let’s stay here for… I dunno, eight hours. Ten. As long as I can. Then you can teach me how to shoot a bow, I can beat you in a competition, and we can hop a ship back to the states.”

“I like your delusion that you’re going to beat me.  It’s adorable.” She said with a smirk. “Unlike some women I will never let you win, I hope you know that… with me, if you want something, you’re going to have to work for it.”  She chuckled lightly and slid around beside Oriana.  

“If you want to, you can lean on me.  I’ll make sure you don’t slip under the water.”  She put an arm around Ori. “You can take a little rest… I promise not to take advantage of you until you’re more awake.”  

Ori nodded, then glided in the water over to Tara. She adjusted herself, twisting and resting her head on Tara’s shoulder and chest. She seemed half-asleep, like every cell in her body had been soothed by the hot spring. “Is it weird that I don’t want to fuck? I think I’d just like… this… if that’s okay. Part of it’s because I don’t want to reaggravate anything, but… this is nice.” Ori seemed to start refilling with tension as her eyes snapped open. “I mean, you look amazing, and I missed you, and I obviously want to…” As she spoke she started shifting to sit up.

“You don’t have to want that all the time.”  Tara said with a furrowed brow.“You don’t think I do, do you?”  she shook her head.  “Sometimes I just like being with you.  Actually, I can’t think of a time since meeting you that I didn’t want to be around you.  Which, in and of itself is odd considering there has been a rather large portion of my life in which I didn’t want to be around much of anyone.”

Ori was quiet, thoughtfully resting back against Tara. The lowest tips of her short blonde hair dipped into the water as she sighed and nodded.

Tara leaned over and kissed the top of Ori’s head.  “Sometimes,”  she said in a quiet voice so as not to interrupt Ori’s relaxation.  “I think that the parts of romance that gets too much focus in those books I like, are the sex parts.”  she chuckled.  “I mean, when my roommates realized that I read them that’s all they talked about, you know?  Those dime store smut books of mine… but the truth is, the best parts of the stories aren’t those passages.  I mean, I like them, sure… but I like reading about people.  I like reading about how folks are together.  Most of the time in romance novels the people start out with these problems or they don’t like each other and you think, how the heck will they ever end up together.  It’s totally unlikely.  Impossible maybe.  And then there are all these little moments.  Things that don’t seem like they’re all that big of a deal, easily overlooked but when you add them up together, it’s those things that make it work.  The sex is like the prize at the end of all the struggles.  The real work was the little things.  Quiet moments like this one.  You.  Me.  Talking in the middle of nowhere in Iceland.  If we were in one of my books, this would be one of those important moments… except there would probably be a polar bear attack in a page or two because it would be boring without that.”  she laughed softly and let her fingers play with the ends of Ori’s blonde hair.

Ori’s breathing had slowed; Tara could feel the other woman’s exhalations on her shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea.”  she said against the top of Ori’s head, again kissing it.  “Just… rest.  I’ll keep a watch for that polar bear and wake you up in a bit.”  Tara looked up and watched the clouds overhead, letting her mind wander to all the things she hadn’t been thinking about in the last few days.  

“When we’re old,”  she said after a few minutes of silence, “And you’re looking back on the things in your life you wish you could go back and do again, I hope today is one of those days.  I think it will be for me.  And, the reason I’m saying that now is because if you were awake you’d tell me you weren’t going to live to be old… but mom and nona Bella said the same and they both did pretty well for themselves so… there’s that.  Anyway, I’m going to think back to today when I’m old.  I’m going to remember you sleeping here against me, the blue sky, the sound of the wind, the steam and how much I love you.”

“I love you, too” said Ori, barely over a whisper, still breathing deeply.

Tara looked down at the other woman, wondering if she even knew what she was saying, or if it was more of a dream than anything else.  She wasn’t going to say it. Two weeks ago she’d thought herself she’d wait to say it again after all that had happened. She didn’t want to push Ori or make her feel obligated to be with her in that way or to stay - but here with her now, she didn’t have those doubts that she had in Italy or even in Michigan when she was staying with Gavin.  Here, things seemed clearer and more certain. Oriana really wasn’t going anywhere. This was real.  

Tara let Oriana sleep or at least quietly rest for a long while.  It was easy as the water was perfection and she had no real urge to climb up into the cold, but as her skin pruned and her stomach complained, she thought more about the food in her bag just out of reach.  Eventually she gave in and kissed her lover awake. “Okay sleepy head, I gotta eat something. I’ll bring you a towel if you like?”

Oriana blinked, and Tara could feel the initial confusion as Ori awoke and tried to figure out where the fuck she was, why she was naked, who she was with, and a thousand other questions. “... what?”

“Welcome back.”  Tara said warmly.  “You okay?” She waited to see if Oriana’s wits returned, that she was fully awake before exiting the water.

“I- yea. Sorry, was in the middle of a very vivid dream…” she shook her head slightly, like she was physically trying to dislodge the dream from her mind.

“What did you dream about?”  Tara asked before standing, quickly realizing she didn’t want to get out of the water quite as much as she thought or rather she was underestimating just how cold it was going to be.  As she began to stand and the wind caught her just right.  “DAMN!”  she chuckled dropping back down into the water.  “Oh man… that’ll wake you up.  Come on… what’s in that head of yours today.  Where’d you go?”   

“When I was a kid, singing in the choir in the orphanage. A particularly difficult song by Vivaldi.”

Tara paused, “You sing?”  She said smiling.  “I’ve never heard you sing before.”   

“... I grew up as a singer. I was singing before I could walk. Children’s choir at the Ospedale della Pieta. We sang hymns for visiting dignitaries and things.”

She looked at Oriana for a moment.  Tara tried to imagine her as a singer, not a killer, and she found herself nodding.  “I can see that.  Do you… like to sing then?”

“I used to live for it. As I grew older… well, you know the place I went to live after the Church was done with me. Less singing there.”

Tara thought back to having told Oriana about her brief consideration of a life in the Church and she smiled, embarrassed.  “Well… I guess that makes sense.”  She looked up to meet Ori’s eyes.  “What was your favorite song to sing?”

“Uh…” Ori paused, thinking, speaking as answers came to her mind. “Laudes Creaturarum, if I had to pick a Church one. I always liked the days after the performance, when we got to sing other kinds of music. I guess if I had to pick, I’d say ‘Greensleeves’. Sister Cristian, she was the nun who taught us, loved that one. ‘Cade l’uliva is another.”

Tara smiled and climbed quickly out of the water and went for the bag as fast as she could, squealing as she went.  “What was I thinking!?!”  She laughed grabbing the towel and wrapping it around herself as fast as possible.  Turning she looked back to Oriana and shivered.  

“Stay there for now!  Oh my god.  I’ll get dressed and start a fire or something.  Shit!  Just promise me if I’m dying of hypothermia tonight you’ll sing to me once before I die.  FUCK!”  Tara tried drying as fast as she could but she knew no matter what the cold was going to cling to her damn bones.

Ori just smiled, sinking back into the water. 

“What did you dream about?”  Tara asked before standing, quickly realizing she didn’t want to get out of the water quite as much as she thought or rather she was underestimating just how cold it was going to be.  As she began to stand and the wind caught her just right. “DAMN!” she chuckled dropping back down into the water. “Oh man… that’ll wake you up. Come on… what’s in that head of yours today.  Where’d you go?”   

“When I was a kid, singing in the choir in the orphanage. A particularly difficult song by Vivaldi.”

Tara paused, “You sing?”  She said smiling. “I’ve never heard you sing before.”   

“... I grew up as a singer. I was singing before I could walk. Children’s choir at the Ospedale della Pieta. We sang hymns for visiting dignitaries and things.”

She looked at Oriana for a moment.  Tara tried to imagine her as a singer, not a killer, and she found herself nodding.  “I can see that. Do you… like to sing then?”

“I used to live for it. As I grew older… well, you know the place I went to live after the Church was done with me. Less singing there.”

Tara thought back to having told Oriana about her brief consideration of a life in the Church and she smiled, embarrassed.  “Well… I guess that makes sense.” She looked up to meet Ori’s eyes. “What was your favorite song to sing?”

“Uh…” Ori paused, thinking, speaking as answers came to her mind. “Laudes Creaturarum, if I had to pick a Church one. I always liked the days after the performance, when we got to sing other kinds of music. I guess if I had to pick, I’d say ‘Greensleeves’. Sister Cristian, she was the nun who taught us, loved that one. ‘Cade l’uliva is another.”

Tara smiled and climbed quickly out of the water and went for the bag as fast as she could, squealing as she went.  “What was I thinking!?!”  She laughed grabbing the towel and wrapping it around herself as fast as possible.  Turning she looked back to Oriana and shivered.  

“Stay there for now!  Oh my god.  I’ll get dressed and start a fire or something.  Shit!  Just promise me if I’m dying of hypothermia tonight you’ll sing to me once before I die.  FUCK!”  Tara tried drying as fast as she could but she knew no matter what the cold was going to cling to her damn bones.

Ori just smiled, sinking back into the water. 

“Tara, I just had an idea. What if we got the fire ready before we went into the hot spring? That way we could just light it when we get out…”

“Shut up.  Just shut your lovely mouth now or I may punch you.  Now is NOT the time to be right.  Fuck my life!”  She sat down on an ice-cold rock to help herself dressing only to jump up with a scream and laugh.  “OH, THAT’S WORSE!  What was I thinking?!?”

Tara dressed as fast as she was able and after pulling on her socks and shoes began gathering a bit of old brush, dead things that hung around on the ground - old dead grass and piling it.  “This is going to burn so fast I don’t know if you’re going to have even a moment of heat from it.  Let me see if I can find one fallen limb from that damn pine over there… now would be a good time to pray or you’re going to know what I was screaming about.”

As Tara worked, Ori’s voice drifted slowly through the frigid air. She was a bit rusty at first, in her mind, but her voice soon found its footing, and she felt comfortable molding the music with her tongue, gently breathing it into the air like someone trying to blow on a spark to encourage a fire. Despite her time as an assassin, a decade of classical voice training had never really left her.

“Amor, io sento l’alma 
Tornar nel foco ov’io 
Fui lieto et più che mai d’arder desio. 
Io ardo e ’n chiara fiamma 
Nutrisco il miser core; 
Et quanto più s’infiamma, 
Tanto più cresce amore, 
Perch’ogni mio dolore 
Nasce dal fuoco ov’io 
Fui lieto et più che mai d’arder desio.”

She thought about the words as she spoke. It was an old song, adapted from a Macchiavelli parody, but she had always loved the words: Love, I feel my spirit return to the fire, where once I was happy, and now more than ever long to burn. I burn and in the bright flames my wretched heart is nourished; and the stronger the blaze, the greater my love, for every one of my sorrows is born from the fire where once I was happy and now more than ever long to burn.

Tara looked up from the small fire she’d managed to get going, through the smoke in front of her and the steam surrounding Oriana, she managed to find the grey eyes she loved so much and she held them for a long while with an appreciative smile.  “You’re right. I didn’t know you. You were wrong though - the more I learn about you, the more I like you. That’s a big part of you. I can hear it in your voice. You really do like singing, and you’re so good at it.  You should sing as much as it makes you happy to do so.  I’ll never object. I promise.”                   

“Maybe. I haven’t really sung in front of anyone else since- since Lucia died. Usually I do it when I’m alone. I don’t want people to think that I…” Am soft. Have emotions.

Tara waited to see if Ori would finish her statement, wondering what she was going to say.

“Sing. I had to go undercover once, when I was seventeen, to sing at an event. Lucia heard me and made me sing to her after that. I can’t really imagine myself getting up on stage in Philadelphia or New York or wherever the hell we go. I have a hard time imagining someone fearing me the way I want them too if they hear me singing. This just…” she paused, looking up at the mountains. “... it’s different.”

“Personal.”  Tara offered.  “Private. It’s for you.  And not everything we do, or every gift we have, has to be something we share with the world to make us happy.  Just, don’t ever avoid singing around me, okay? I mean, I won’t make you do it… won’t even ask you to, especially after hearing what you’ve said here.  You should only do it when you want to. I mean, I get it. It’s something you’ve protected from the rest of your life, the parts you want to keep separate from each other.  I can respect that, in fact, I think I like it. Just the same… thank you for sharing it with me. It means a lot to me that I get to see both sides of your life.” She stood up and went for the other towel.

Ori seemed thoughtful as she stood up, wincing both from the cold and her injury.  She seemed frustrated by the wince, like she’d wanted to stand up and walk casually over despite the cold. 

Tara held open the towel for Oriana to step into and as she wrapped it around her she hugged her, trying to protect her from the cold as she guided her to the fireside.  “It’s not bad once you’re beside the fire. We’ll get you dried up and into clothing as fast as we can.”

“It’s fine. I’m comfortable.” A hint of a smile crossed Oriana's face.

***

The walk back seemed harder on Oriana than the walkout.  Maybe it was the time in the water loosening her up or maybe it was the fact that they’d gone so far across rough terrain and now had to cross it again.  Tara couldn't say but she found excuses to pause here and there so Ori’s pride wasn’t hurt.  Whenever she heard her companion having some trouble breathing, she’d find a plant or animal to focus on or a view she had to pause to look at a bit longer or a topic to ramble about which caused her to slow her own pace.

Eventually, though, there came a point in which she knew she had to take a substantial pause and so, she dropped her bag unceremoniously and announced, “Alright, I think I’m finally ready to put you in your place with this bow.  I refuse to wait a moment longer to defend my honor as this family’s best archer.  Now, I’ll go easy on you but not too easy… I mean, I do want you to work for it but I’m not about crushing someone’s spirit when they’re just learning.  That wouldn’t be right.  So… some quick lessons then we’ll do best of seven.”

“What’re the stakes?”

“Winner gets to pick out lingerie for the winner to wear when we get settled in Philly.  No holds barred.  Whatever tickles your fancy and the other person has to wear it without complaint.  What do you say?  Fun?  Or do you want higher, riskier stakes than that?”

Ori raised an eyebrow. “Did you have something riskier in mind?”

Tara shrugged.  “I’m trying to pace myself.  So let’s just say that I don’t.  I have to have something exciting for you in the years to come or you’ll get bored of me and trade me in for a fresher model.”

“A bold assumption about years to come. But that’s fine. I agree to your stakes.”

“Now do you even need a lesson?  I mean, you made it sound like you and Mom had a go at bows before.  If you don’t require my assistance, you really don’t need to contrive reasons for me to hold my body against you - you do know that right?”  she smirked.  “I mean, I’m happy to do it, but honestly, I won’t presume that you aren’t already a burgeoning expert in the making.”

“Looking for an advantage?” asked Ori. “That’s fine. Bring it on. I don’t have the best memory when it comes to everything… but my muscle memory is-”

“I was worried YOU were wanting to see how I do it so you could steal my tricks!”  Tara laughed.

“... who said I wasn’t. We’ll shoot at the same time, then?”

Tara nodded, “I knew it.  Well, I suppose if I don’t show you at least one or two things then I can’t say I fairly beat you.  I mean, beating an untrained person who doesn’t have any real practice under her belt doesn’t seem sporting of me.”

“Your mother did say I was a natural.”

“My mother would have said anything to make you like her a little more.”  She said smiling and coming over to Oriana. Picking up the bow she offered it to Ori, gave her an arrow.  “I’m going to walk you through this at least once. Then I can know I beat you fair and square. Agreed?”

“Yep.” The relaxed Oriana was gone; Tara could see her focused on possible targets. That half-tree, perhaps?"

"Face the target," She said, her voice sounding rather like Aurora's.  Coming around Oriana she tapped the other woman's heel with her boot.  "Feet parallel.  Foot and a half apart."

Tara then came up behind Oriana and helped her taking proper hold of the bow, reaching around her in the way Ori had when teaching the gun.  "Angling toward the target at about forty-five degrees should move the bowstring away from your arm and chest.  Relax your grip.  White-knuckling will tense your whole arm.  Degrades your accuracy.  You want to be touching your thumb to your middle finger in front of the grip."

"Extend your bow arm, grip the string in your fingers.  Index finger above the arrow, middle and ring below.  Pull the string smoothly back towards your face.  Do not dip the bow when you are pulling back, I know folks like to do that and you see it in the movies like Robin Hood but that's silly.  You're going to tire your muscles and won't be able to hold that shot for very long.  Back straight.  Anchor the string by your face, thumb below your chin helps you know you're in the right spot.  Put the pin on the target."

"Listen close now."  Tara's breath was warm on her ear in the cool air.  "The release is the important part, the hardest part.  Smooth.  No jerk or flinching.  It's easier said than done.  The weight of the bow gives the arrow power but it's going to try to wreck your form.  You move, the sight is off.  If that string rolls off your fingers wrong, the arrow is fucked.  You're not picking a guitar here.  Just relax all your fingers at the same time.  The bow will do what it's made to do.  A glove would be helpful in the future but it's not necessary."

"Finally will be follow-through.  After you release, keep the pin on the target.  Don't move your body until the arrow hits.  You'd be shocked to learn that most people relax after they let go of the arrow and it always, ALWAYS, messes with the shot.  Think you got all that?"

“Yep.”

Tara kissed Oriana’s ear.  “Don’t mess it up then.  Show me what you got.”  She stepped away from Oriana to watch the other woman take a shot.

“Can I watch you first? One practice shot each?”

Tara nodded.  She picked up her new bow and touched her mother’s thumbprint on the leather with a smile.  Grabbing an arrow from the quiver she walked over to Oriana and gave her a nod before knocking the arrow.  Tara, like a machine, moved her body in the exact way she had directed Oriana to do.  Her form remarkably in perfect compliance with all her edicts from only a moment ago, as if following the process was key to perfection in Tara’s mind - as if deviating from the process might have caused her to error. 

She aimed for a long moment and then after she was sure she had the spot she wanted dead to rights, she exhaled as Aurora had instructed Ori to do, and loosed the arrow holding her form long after the arrow struck true.  Tara smiled with satisfaction.  “Just like that.”

“Okay,” said Ori, stepping up to Tara’s right and grinning slightly. In this competition, she’d force Tara to watch her, rather than the other way around. 

Taking a deep breath, she narrowed her eyes and copied Tara’s motions exactly. Her arrow struck the outside of the tree and glanced off it. 

“Not bad.”  Tara admitted.  “Your form is solid.  Just getting used to the sight I’d say.  Make sure the pin is just under the target.  Don’t dead center it. Each bow has a … well, a tendency to pull or lean a certain way.  I think like guns do. You learn their quirks the more you use them and it can be helpful to have someone watch you shoot just as I did a moment ago to catch those things.”

Ori smirked over her shoulder, blonde hair moving in the wind as she held her bow and reached behind her for another arrow, and Tara seemed struck by the sight for a moment.

“We shoot at the same time?” asked Ori.

“Um… yeah.”  She said smiling at Oriana.  How had she not noticed the way she looked a moment ago?  Was she really so focused on teaching her that she hadn’t even once looked at the long line that was formed by her spine and that fantastic leg of hers?  

Tara picked up an arrow and tried not to look at Oriana again, failing utterly.  She drank in the sight of her for a long moment before asking, “On the count of three then?”

Both women readied themselves, then aimed at the tree; a knot seemed close to the center and would serve as their bulls-eye through mutual agreement. 

On the first shot, Ori made sure to move first, trying to draw Tara’s eye. She sighted, then gently released the arrow, which stuck into the tree near the center. Tara’s shot was nearly as close- but it wasn’t quite there. Ori grinned over her shoulder again.

“1-0.”

“Well, that was a good shot.”  She said watching Oriana intently for a moment before picking up another arrow.  Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled in the sun when she smiled like that? That mischief, that promise she was up to something even if Tara didn’t know what.

The second shot was almost an exact repeat of the first one. This time, Tara could see Oriana start to get a little cocky.

“2-0.”

“You’re good,” said Tara.  “Mom was right, but don’t let it go to your head.  You get cocky and it’ll throw off your aim as much as poor form will.  Your head has to be in the right space when you’re using a bow.  Unlike with a gun, you’re the machine here.  Your body is…”  Tara looked at Ori’s body for a moment.  Perfect.  “... what you need to be focusing on.”

Ori closed her eyes. Tara’s voice wasn’t distracting- but talking about her like that… was distracting. The third round was close, but a clear win for Tara.

“Well, I suppose you now know that I’m not letting you win.”  She gave a wink to her girlfriend.  “Let’s see if you can stop me from a sweep, shall we?”

“I already did. I won two,” said Ori, staring at the tree.

“Yeah but maybe I’ll clean up the last of the shots.  Maybe.”

“Bring it on.”

When the fourth round of arrows was released, they landed on opposite sides of the tree- an almost identical distance away. Ori frowned, then started walking towards the tree. “I think mine is closer,” she said, hopefully. After three minutes spent intensely measuring the distance and proving conclusively that Tara’s was a millimeter closer, Ori stormed back to their shooting spot with fire in her eyes. “Best of three, then,” said Ori.

Tara’s next three shots were easily closer than Oriana’s. The blonde was fuming for a moment, but she couldn’t help but smiling as she shook her head. “Well… I guess it makes sense. You’ve been doing this for years and all.”

Tara nodded.  “Yes.  If you had won I would have been unable to face myself in the mirror.  I mean, what the hell would I have been doing all these years if I couldn’t best a woman who was picking up a bow for only the second time in her life?  No.  I think for my pride, I had to win.  If you let me win though…”  she narrowed her eyes at Ori.  “Hm… no.  I don’t think you’d do that.  Good.”

“How do you keep your arm from getting tired? Every shot for me was harder than the one before it.”

“Are you locking that elbow up?  Remember what I said about the grip?  The power isn’t here in this part of your arm, though you might instinctively think that it is.  I think there’s an urge to try to have a real control over the weapon, a fear that if you let it do as it wants and for your body to relent to it - that it’ll go badly for you.  This arm is going to be important in aiming and I think you know that, your brain is telling you to have ironclad control over the thing that controls if you’ll win or not.  You seize up a bit.  It’s natural.  You’ll work on it though and get better at relaxing and realizing that you can put some trust in the bow the same way you do your gun.  Before you know it, you’ll be able to clear a quiver without any discomfort.  But yes, tomorrow you’ll probably be feeling it in that arm if you are feeling it right now.  I’ll have to give you a rub down tonight to help.”

“Okay,” said Ori with a smile. She was bothered by losing but, for once, it seemed like she was more bothered about being bothered than the actual loss itself. “I thought I had you there at the start.”

Tara put her bag over her shoulder.  “If I’m being honest, I thought you had me too.”  She shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you’re so damn good at everything else we do, literally.”

Except anything to do with emotions, thought Ori. Or driving. Or cooking. Or drinking. Or long term memory. Or...

“I’m just not sure what the hell to do with myself now that I found one thing I’m actually skillful enough at that I can beat you,” continued  Tara. “I won’t get too used to it though. I like that you’re so damn good at things like this. It has been known to save our asses from time to time.”  She smirked. “Speaking of asses… I’m not going to lie. The first part of this contest I was paying more attention to your smile and that ass of yours in those pants than I was the target.  So… there is that.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Maybe just a little.”  She said with a shrug. “You’re not the only one with insecurities in this relationship, you know.”  Tara began slowly trudging back towards the cabin. “Shall we stay here another night, pack up tomorrow and head back?  I know we both have a million things waiting for us back in the real world. Iceland isn’t going anywhere, we can always come back and visit in the future if you like.”

“Yea,” said Ori, glancing up at the mountains again. “I think that someday, I’d like to come back.”

“It’s settled then.  We’ll come back one day.  Maybe fix up the place a little too.  Keep it nice for the other kids to one day visit and see mom’s rock.  I bet Malcolm would like to visit eventually. I don’t think Uncle Will ever made it out here but this place is kinda important to the family I think.  We should keep in good condition.”

Ori didn’t say anything; she just nodded and took Tara’s hand as they made their way through the cold mountain air. 

***

They stayed one more night in the solitudinous cabin before returning the next morning to Reykjavik. Both of them were anxious to get back to America, to Philadelphia, to see what sort of life they had waiting for them there. They booked passage on the fastest ship to America, still unable to fly due to Oriana’s recovery from her punctured lung.

On the way across the Atlantic, Ori spent a lot of time at the bow of the ship, leaning on the railing and watching the keel slice through the water. She felt different. Something had changed. Maybe more than one thing. 

Maybe everything. 

But her epiphanies danced on the horizon of her conscious mind, constantly offering her glimpses of light without revealing the full picture. It frustrated her- yet she felt content with the way things were in a way that differed from the previous incarnations of her life. 

The night before they reached America, Ori was in their small cabin, sleeping with a lazy arm tossed around Tara’s midsection when she started in her sleep. She turned on the bed to see Francesco Bianchi sitting in the room’s only chair, staring at her. He was picking his fingernails clean with a knife.

“You’re dead,” said Oriana, in the gravelly, wounded voice of someone still mostly asleep. Tara stirred, but she didn’t wake up.

“Am I?” he asked.

Ori sat up on the bed, back pushed up against the headboard and one hand under the pillow behind her as she stared out at Francesco.

“She killed you,” said Ori. “... and then I stabbed you like thirty fucking times.”

“Touche,” acknowledged Francesco. “But there’s a part of me that will always be with you, won’t there? Reminding you of reality, rather than the foolish fantasy you insist on indulging in.”

“There’s no fantasy. She cares about me.”

Francesco scoffed. “As an asset. And now out of desperation. I’m not denying she wants to fuck you. She always has. But if her family was still alive, she’d… well, she’d be trying out a new flavor soon. You’ve kept things exciting, I’m sure, to prevent that from happening. But it all goes stale eventually.”

“She’s…”

“Oriana, use your head. This girl wants to grow up to become a mob boss. She wanted your skills. Everything else is just… reeling you in. And you are hooker. Poor Oriana… so good with your body in so many ways, but your mind is made for tactics- not strategy. What resources does she have left? Of course you’re leaving Iceland feeling so attached to her- it’s exactly what she needs you to feel.”

“You’re wrong.”

Francesco stood, sliding his knife back into his sheath as he walked nearer to Ori, who seemed to push herself back against the headboard even more.

“Poor Oriana,” said Francesco. “It’s not your fault. I created you to be manipulated. I drilled the holes. I gave you your strings. And even with me gone… the strings are still there. You’re not a tiger, Oriana. Or a lioness. Not a bull, not a wolf, not even a fox…” his face grew closer to hers, close enough that their lips almost touched as he breathed the words.

“... you’re not as wild as you think, lapdog.”

“Fuck you,” she whispered, brushing away a tear. “Fuck you. You’re wrong about me and her and-”

Tara stirred. Francesco disappeared. Oriana closed her eyes, opened them again to make sure he was gone, then gently lowered herself back down against Tara, making sure not to disturb her.

Tara stretched and yawned and then wrapped her arms around Ori and snuggling tight around her, not really opening her eyes.  Barely aware that Ori had been moving she whispered, “Not bad dreams, I hope?”  She kissed the top of Ori’s head.  

Ori just shook her head, not trusting herself to talk as she stared out into the darkness. It could have been a dream. She hoped it was a dream, as she blinked at Tara’s side. If it wasn’t a dream, then… it was better for it to be a dream. It had to be.

“I know we could go to Hollowpoint, my dad had it fixed up for mom years ago.  I’ve never seen it, but I’m thinking maybe instead of going to this building we own in South Philly.  An apartment building on fifth.  An old sewing factory, my grandmother had it made into loft apartments.  Really nice, good security and such.  My grandparents lived their for the first few years of my mom’s life.  Figure it might not be a bad place to stay at least for a while.  Hollowpoint just … well, it’s a family home.  Seems like too big of a place for just me and sometimes you.  I mean… unless you wanted to be my roommate?  I do like sleeping with you, but I wasn’t sure we were ready for that sorta thing.”

“... can we talk about that later?” asked Ori. “I’m tired,” she lied. 

“Yeah.”  She said, again kissing her head.  “We don’t have to talk about this or anything else.  I’m sorry.  I just… got the impression you might want to hear me talking.  I must have read you wrong.  I’ll see you in the morning.”  

Ori frowned part of her wanting to talk and part of her demanding the silence as she stared out into the unquiet darkness.

“Okay.  Not buying it.  You want to tell me what you were dreaming about or do I get to guess and would you like tea to drink… or whiskey?  I can do either right now but let me know the level of shit we’re about to open up on by your beverage selection.”  She said letting her hand reaching behind her fumbling for the lamp.

“I don’t want to talk. I was thinking bad shit, but I don’t want to talk about it. I’m trying to focus on good things right now and go back to sleep.”

“Whiskey.”  She said kissing Ori’s head and sliding out from under the covers and walking over to their bags to get out the bottle she’d brought with her from Iceland.

Oriana bristled as she moved back to her pillow, and her voice revealed her frustration. “You can’t make me talk, Tara. I really just want to go to sleep. Please.” She closed her eyes, thinking she shouldn’t have to say please.

“Fine you don’t have to talk.”  She said going over to the table and finding a glass, flipping it over and pouring a shot into it and sitting it down in front of her.  “A … Ammo.” she said quietly, crossing her bare legs and adjusting the shirt she’d been sleeping in so it covered a bit more of her body in the cool room.

“Tara…”

“You relenting?”  She arched an eyebrow.

“I’m thinking about how everything in Iceland was so nice, and I’m trying to hold onto that, but right now I feel like you’re not listening to me. I want to sleep, I want to put some distance between me and some bad thoughts. You can’t just order me to talk. I’ll do the letter thing, but… tomorrow.”

Tara looked at the whiskey and picked it up.  “Okay.” She said sipping it. “Goodnight, Ori.”  She said softly and sat drinking quietly in the dark wondering which of her lovers demons was chasing her so hard tonight that Oriana had chosen running over facing them.  Ori was one of the strongest women she knew, and yet, more times now than Tara wanted to admit - Ori chose to run away from her pain more than she’d chosen to face it. It bothered Tara.  If Ori couldn’t or wouldn’t share her pain and fears with her, was she really here as much as she claimed? How long until she ran again? How long until it all fell apart and she was alone for real?  

Tara finished the whiskey shot and filled the glass a second time unsure how long it would be before her mind would stop wandering enough that she could make herself crawl back into bed and finish sleeping.

“If you come back to bed right now and stop thinking so loudly, I promise that I will talk to you tomorrow,” said Ori, half frustrated and half pleading.

Tara slammed the whiskey back and put the glass down with a heavy sigh.  Pushing herself up out of the chair she crossed the room and climbed back down into the bed and under the covers. Ori went back to the same spot she’d been in before, her blonde hair in the crook of Tara’s shoulder and her arm draped across Tara’s stomach.

Tara held Oriana, staring up at the ceiling until sleep took her, trying to silence the doubts and fears in her mind that kept suggesting that things for her and Ori weren’t as certain as she tried to tell herself they’d been in Iceland. 

***

Ori was gone when Tara woke up. The blonde was dressed in jeans and flannel, leaning on the bow rail and watching the ship cut through the water towards the rapidly approaching America. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Tara, then returned to looking out over the water.

“Part of me wishes we never left Iceland. Like we’d just stay there forever, in that hot spring. That cabin. Hunt together. Read. Sing. Fuck. I dunno. Whatever normal people do with their lives. Die of old age.”

Tara decided to be bold, “I’m afraid you’re going to leave me.”

She leaned against the rail beside Oriana and didn’t look at her, fearful of her reaction.

Ori sighed. “I thought you were going to do the alphabet thing.” She paused. “I don’t want to lie to you. I’m like… 22. 23? I don’t even know. There was a conversation we had once where I said I’d make it my birthday, but I don’t remember when that happened. Damn shitty memory. If I promised never to leave you, it would feel like bullshit. What if we spend the next twenty years together and you turn into an asshole? Or I do? I don’t even know who I am. I’m who other people made me to be- the only parts of myself I ever made are the little pieces that slipped through the cracks of the important stuff. So how can I promise to never leave you, if I don’t even know who the fuck I am?” She dropped her eyes. “I-”

“Ori.”  Tara said interrupting.  “I get it.  You’re making fair points.  And maybe I’m a bit… needy right now.  Raw.  That’s not on you and I can’t expect you to be here fixing the shit I’m dealing with right now.  I want you around and I’ll enjoy you when you are - but when we get to Philly maybe it’s best we each have our own places for now.”

Ori’s heart dropped in her chest, but she nodded. It hurt to hear Tara say it. It wasn’t what Ori wanted. But if it was what Tara wanted...

“I … Iceland, everything we’ve been through, it felt like one of my stories.  In my head you’ve been this impossible woman.  Someone who came out of nothing and nowhere, a god damn hero… and then, you needed me and… maybe I let myself think of you in a way that wasn’t fair.  I cast you in a role and I’ve dragged you along on this story I’ve had in my head since I was a little girl, but you’re a real person.  You deserve a chance to figure out your identity without me forcing you into one.  I’m sorry if I’ve been… pushy.”