A/N: The finale, oh my. I loved every breathtaking, intense and heartbreaking moment of it. But because I am a Neal/Sara shipper, I had to write something else, something to give me hope for next season.
This contains a whole bunch of spoilers for the finale so avert your eyes if you've yet to see it. Takes place after the incident at Sterling Bosch but before Neal's speech at his commutation; I figured there must have been a night in between those two.
Characters welcome and belong to Jeff Eastin.
Sara watches as Kramer leaves Sterling Bosch, dissatisfaction written all over his face. He is a formidable enemy for Neal and his persistence nearly got them both arrested but she feels giddy with the realization of how eloquently they tricked him.
"Do you think this is over?"
Peter seems to contemplate the question and his eyes narrow. He has known the man for a long time and if there is one thing he doesn't do, it's letting go.
"He doesn't have what he wants. But he knows that Neal will not come to D.C. with him, so no, this is not over."
"D.C.?"
The look of bewilderment on Sara's face reminds Peter that she doesn't know and another emotion, more painful lurking beneath it, pushes him to go on.
"Kramer's idea is to take Neal with him to D.C. because I apparently cannot handle him any more. He would keep a more tight leash on him there so he couldn't be up to anything. He puts Neal in a tight spot with this and when he is cornered..."
"He runs." Sara finishes the sentence for him and now she looks distraught.
"I'm sorry, I should've told you, I just..."
"No, it's fine." She shrugs her shoulders and paints a mask of nonchalance. "It's not like we're dating or anything."
It's not anything but it's everything.
Sara's fine with it, really. Of course, she's not fine with Kramer taking Neal against his will and forcing him to work for a man he doesn't like or even respect. But if Neal wants to run, if he decides to leave everything, that's his prerogative and she can't stop him. Sara doesn't care, or so she keeps telling herself.
But when the idea of him running away entered her head, she cared so much it hurt and she can't seem to stop this pain. He could go, he should go and not let Kramer manhandle him and Sara can't lay a claim on him but she knows Kramer has something planned, regardless of the hearing tomorrow and she's on her way to his apartment to talk to him about that. Just a friendly warning.
"Sara. I was just about to celebrate our small victory. Only fair for you to join me." He acts at ease but she sees the tense line of his shoulders, the way he knows a battle won does not equal a victory.
But she plays along for a moment. "Of course. Where's Mozzie?"
"I plead plausible deniability to that question."
They both smile and he hands her a glass of wine and they clink to their joint victory.
"So, I heard D.C. is looking for their very own criminal consultant."
"I don't think that's the promotion I've been waiting for. And after today...I don't think Kramer wants to be my handler, even to save Peter, like he says."
"I think he has something more menacing planned and it's not going to end well for you."
They both know what that might mean and Sara lets her gaze wander towards the painting she knows hides a passport behind it. She doesn't have to pretend not to know what it means now.
"Sara..." He pleads her and she feels reigned in by the tone of his voice, the apology waiting to happen but also the plausible deniability he would have to plead a second time, this one more real.
Sara shakes her head. "Don't say it, Neal." She doesn't need his words because she's not here for anyth-
Screw pretending, she thinks before she puts down her glass and moves closer. He mirrors her actions and they meet in the middle and with everything that could happen tomorrow looming above their heads, he kisses her.
He is being gentle and doesn't push it but Sara's overcome with the possibility of Neal leaving forever because she knows that's what he does and she responds fiercely, reminding him of the passion they share, always simmering beneath the surface. He follows it eagerly and when his hands pull her closer, she wants to commit this to her memory and she maneuvers them towards his bed, intent on taking everything she could have.
When her hands start to undo the buttons of his shirt, he pauses and pulls back, with the honorable intent of not taking advantage of her. But whatever he sees in her eyes must be compelling enough because his hands find the zipper of her dress in an instant.
They undress each other in a frenzy of touching and tasting and feeling. It's like they're together for the first time again and maybe it is because things are clearer now than they were before. He, too, seems intent on memorizing her, if the way he's touching every inch of her is any indication but she's becoming impatient, wanting and needing to feel all of him.
When he pins her to the bed and it's finally skin to skin, Sara feels only pleasure and not the pain squeezing at her heart. When she let's go, she mentally catalogs every sound, every smell, every feeling of them being together and hopes these memories will last a lifetime if they have to.
They don't talk but she's not leaving either, so after some time, he falls asleep, her hand idly caressing his hair. She's staring at the ceiling, waiting to be sure he's really asleep.
When she thinks she has waited long enough, she whispers the one thing she could not say to him directly. "I love you."
Sara says it to the quietness of the room, to be committed to her memory as a part of this night and closes her eyes to welcome sleep and doesn't see the pair of surprised bright blue eyes open.
The next morning, back at Sterling Bosch, she's staring at the Raphael but can only see Neal's face and every memory she has of him. The commutation must not have ended yet and the feeling of dread refuses to leave her.
The shrill ringing of her phone shakes her out of her daydreaming and she rushes to answer it, only to see it's not Peter but an unknown number.
"Sara? It's Diana. Neal...has escaped."
"How?"
"Cut his anklet and just vanished. We're not sure how he could pull this off."
"Okay. Thank you for telling me, Diana."
"Peter thought you should know."
She closes her eyes against the rush of emotion she feels. This is what she expected, though. She feels relief first, then anger, then disappointment and then a surge of joy, with some feelings of betrayal and loss and wonder. He's gone and she loves him but he's safe.
A month later, it's turned into a void, like his leaving has taken something from her and Sara knows it has. She did the right thing by him, she thinks, letting him go and not endangering him with a relationship because she can't be the one who brings him down.
She's been questioned by the FBI more than once and she doesn't have to lie about his whereabouts or how he escaped because she really doesn't know. She doesn't tell them about the passport either; Victor Moreau deserves a chance and what's a lie of omission after everything she's covered for him, anyway.
There's a postcard in her mailbox one day and she eyes it curiously. No postage stamp; it's been hand-delivered and it makes her wary and she curses herself for feeling hopeful as well.
The hope explodes in her when she sees it's a depiction of the Raphael. The four words written on the back are at first a jumble, and when her eyes focus, she realizes a lot of things. It's in her handwriting – but Neal always was excellent at that – and the words he's written in her hand startle her. I love you too. She thinks how risky this is, while the FBI is still breathing down her neck and looking for anything to hold against her but she finds herself smiling. She didn't want her admission to change anything about what he might do and while he's probably a thousand miles away, this feels like the start of a relationship and she's fine with that.
A/N: Maybe I took a few too many liberties with the state of their relationship but I just love them both so much, I couldn't help myself. I needed something more, so I wrote something more.
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