Chapter Text
Sara's not entirely sure what possesses her to do this.
No, that's a lie. She's entirely sure why she's doing this, but she knows it's a terrible idea, and she shouldn't be doing it, and she hits the send button on the screen anyway.
The response is immediate (a little too immediate if she thinks about it, which she doesn't). Ava shows up on screen before Sara even has time to compose herself, and something shifts on the other woman's face before she says brusquely, "I'll be right there."
The line cuts before Sara can say a word, and she looks down, tries to swallow the lump in her throat as Ava materializes behind her. "Hey." Sara smiles faintly at the floor, arms folded, still leaning back against the center table. She doesn't quite trust herself to speak yet, or turn around. Hears Ava's precise footsteps, slow and a little hesitant. "I uh. I got your message." Sara snorts softly, shaking her head, as though Ava's near-instant appearance didn't prove that.
She still doesn't trust her voice.
She sees Ava appear in the corner of her eye, fights back the immediate urge to turn, go on guard. The slowly growing urge to kiss her. The annoying urge to cry.
This was a terrible idea.
"Sara." Ava moves into her field of view, lines of concern on her forehead. Sara swallows hard, forces herself to meet Ava's gaze.
"Jax left," she states, voice brittle. Ava sighs, looks away for a moment. "I think Leo is going to go home soon and I just..." She pretends her voice doesn't break, sees Ava actually start to reach for her before freezing. Sara shakes her head sharply, pushes off the table and turns away. "This was a stupid idea."
There's a hand on her shoulder, and like before, Sara fights down the need to break that grip, break that hand. "Sara," Ava says again quietly. And waits, waits for Sara to turn back around, waits for her to whisper, "I can't lose anyone else."
Ava's hand moves, up and down her arm once, twice. Some part of Sara's brain remembers being comforted like this, a lifetime ago. Or three, literally. Maybe four. She hadn't realized quite how cut off she's been, how much she's missed human contact that lasts longer than a fleeting touch, a hug, a one night stand. Something about this is different, is soft in a way she'd forgotten she could love.
She doesn't deserve this, not anymore. She probably never did.
The urge to kiss Ava is nearly overwhelming, to find some small bit of warmth for even a moment, to steal back some of the life she knows she'd had, once.
Finally, she manages to choke out, "Will you just stay?" Flushes at how horribly needy that sounds, stutters, "I just mean-"
"Okay." Sara can't look at her. Ava runs her hand hesitantly along Sara's arm again, murmurs, "I'll stay, Sara."
Sara nods, eyes burning, bites the inside of her mouth so hard she tastes blood. "Okay," she repeats, not sure what to do now that they're here. She'd never imagined Ava would just... "Okay," she whispers again. Tries to get her mind to focus. "There's um. There's leftover food, from dinner, and probably some beer and-"
"Sara." Her voice is uncharacteristically soft, unfairly gentle. Sara flinches. "What do you need from me?" Ava asks, and Sara wraps her arms across her stomach to hold herself together. Closes her eyes and tries to come up with an answer that isn't pathetically desperate.
She comes up empty.
It's as good an opening as she's going to get, especially from Ava, and god, is she tempted. To see what's under that stiff bureau suit, to take Ava Sharpe apart inch by bare inch, to lose herself in making someone else come undone. Sara could dance circles around her, and the part of her that remembers fighting until they were both sweaty and panting on the floor is desperate to own Ava.
It's certainly what she wants. But Sara is no longer certain it's what she needs.
"I don't know," is the answer she finally comes up with, and that simple truth somehow drains the tension from the room, from her shoulders, from the grip Ava still has on her arm. Makes it easier to meet Ava's gaze again, and Sara can't help smirking just a little at how nervous the other woman looks.
It doesn't make it any easier to say, "Just stay. Please."
xxx
nothing's fair in love and war