Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…
"Sara."
The hesitancy with which she said my name told me that showing up on her doorstep was unwelcome. The immediate crossing of her arms over her chest conveyed both her uneasiness at my presence and her need to protect herself. She shifted her weight and leaned against the door frame with her shoulder, obviously expecting me to say something.
As I took in her appearance—disheveled hair and an old Harvard T-shirt that barely came down to the top of her thighs—I momentarily forgot what had brought me to her door at this late hour. My eyes moved from hers and down her body. Just as I reached her knees, the abrupt sound of her clearing her throat brought me back to the present.
I jumped as lightning struck and thunder boomed somewhere in the distance. Until that moment, I hadn't even realized that I was drenched. I had no idea how long I had stood outside my truck after pulling in her driveway before working up the nerve to knock on her door. And yet, there I stood.
"Sara?"
As my name rolled of her lips again, I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. Deciding that it would be wise to make a hasty retreat, I turned on my heel and took the three steps down onto her walkway.
"Sara!"
I froze and against my better judgment turned around. My hair was clinging to my face in dark ringlets and my clothes were like a second skin on my body. It was difficult to see as the rain moved over my eyelids in heavy, stinging sheets.
She looked like an angel, backlit by the subtle glow come from her front door. She stepped onto her porch, still sheltered by the protective overhang of the roof as the lightning streaked across the sky again.
The thunder rumbled, shaking the windows and weakening my defensives. I blinked harshly against the rain and had to tilt my head to hear what she was saying over the falling rain.
"Why?"
"I had to see you. I wanted to make sure you were okay," I shouted at her.
Even through the steady downpour, I could see the glassing of her eyes as the tears began to fill them.
"Don't. Don't you dare come here like you give a damn. If you did…"
"I'm worried about you," I countered as I moved closer to her. "Gil told me that Avery Holmes got off on a technicality and then she sent you flowers."
"What does it matter to you? You broke up with me! You ended things because you're a fucking coward and you couldn't deal with the possibility of someone—of me—loving you for who you are," she said coldly, punctuating each word with a poke to my chest.
Suddenly, I was acutely aware that I was soaked and that we were standing in her front yard shouting at each other at three o'clock in the morning, I merely nodded and pulled her toward me, wrapping her in a tight hug. At first she stiffened, then relaxed in my arms before weakly asking, "Stay?"
It was a request that I did not have the power to deny. I kissed the top of her head and gave her a gentle squeeze before leading us inside. Locking the door behind us and turning off the porch light, I let her lead me up the stairs to the room we had shared so many times. I was no longer her lover, but I could still give her whatever it was that she needed—or wanted.
A/N: I started on this weeks ago. I just had this image of Sara in my mind and I tried to force a story from it. I wasn't as successful as I'd like to have been. So now, instead of a decent one-shot, I'm going to be forced to either (1) write several smaller chapters that connect in some weird sorta way. [Anyone who's ever gone through a break-up knows that even if you break up, you come back together (sometimes over and over again). It makes sense to me and hopefully, it'll make sense for you (the reader) as well.] or (2) write this as a longer story (which I don't really want to do since I have too many that are unfinished as it is—and yes, Immi, I know I need to update ALL of them soon).