Author's note: OK, OK, I'll admit it. This will be 12 chapters-well, 11 and an epilogue.
With thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta and Pir8grl for the idea of Leonard reading to Sara. ;)
Thus begins one of the strangest times in Sara Lance's life.
On one hand, she's still stuck in the 1950s. She misses her sister, her parents, her comrades. She chafes at the restrictions so often imposed on women at the time. (And regularly wants to slug people because of all the condescension and sexism she hears.) Even the TV shows often infuriate her, there's not as much access to information as she's used to, and she'd altogether like carteblanchetobeat someone up a little more often.
But, on the other hand...
The situation isn't normal. She knows that. But her life hasn't been normal since the Gambit, and in the scale of her experiences…well, this isn't so bad.
In fact, at times, it's pretty damned good.
This new chapter in her life starts with yet another morning that could have been incredibly awkward...but isn't.
It isn't at all.
She wakes in Len's arms, the once so touch-shy crook wrapped around her like she's going to leave if he lets go. But she doesn't want to leave, maybe at all, maybe she'll just stay here all day, for the foreseeable future anyway...
But that's not realistic. There are still too many things to do, to figure out. And that's good, that's fine, that's what's keeping her going here in this time. But right here and now, she just wants to luxuriate in this feeling a moment, the sensation of being wrapped up in someone else, of a long-standing attraction finally reaching a culmination, or...she thinks, a new beginning.
And she does. She's not entirely sure how long she lies there, warm and content, dozing and watching the light level change though the crack in the curtains. But eventually, she hears Len's breathing alter and tilts her head back to watch his face, smiling a bit as those totally unfair lashes flicker, just a little, before his eyes open, focusing, after a moment, on her.
"Morning," Sara whispers, watching how his irises change color from blue to green and back in the light.
"Mmm. Morning." His voice is rough, just a bit. Len tilts his head a little, opening and closing his eyes, and Sara has the sudden inescapable feeling that he's not at all used to waking up next to someone. She waits, watching, as he acclimates, then smiles as his gaze flicks back to hers again and his fingers flex, gently, at her bare hip.
There's something very tentative and guarded in his eyes, though, and she realizes suddenly that he's looking for regrets, for some form of second thoughts. The idea hurts Sara's heart, a little, the realization that although she'd expressed just how much she'd wanted what they'd done together, he was still so wary. But they both have their damages.
And she's resolved, at this point, to work on undoing this aspect of his.
Instead of using words, she stretches slowly, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck, smiling at him in a way that she hopes conveys just how pleased she is with any and all of the decisions she'd made last night. Len's lips twitch as she presses against him (OK, other portions of his anatomy do, too), the guardedness fleeing and his gaze warming as he holds her.
"Sleep well?" he asks in a low tone.
"Yeah. Really well." She stretches again, grinning as he groans. "Best I have in a while. I missed having some space to stretch. Even if you do tend to steal the covers."
"I do not…" She watches as he takes note of their circumstances, including where the covers are—draping him and just a very small portion of Sara. "Ah."
She can't help a slight smirk. "It's OK. You kept me warm."
At that (and her tone), his eyelids go to half-mast again as he gives her one of those Snart looks. "Warm?" he drawls, fingers drifting up a little, stroking toward her spine. "Me? Perish the thought."
"Yes, you, jerk." Sara hums with amusement at his chuckle, arching her back a little as those clever fingertips trace her backbone. This also has the amusing result of moving her chest—which had been so sadly neglected last night in their hurry to consummate things—up and against him, and she doesn't miss the noise he makes as it does so. "Nice and warm. Yes, I know those are two things you deny being..."
"Mmmmmm…" The fingertips pause, then drift, moving across her side in a caress that manages to be arousing and not tickling. Or maybe she's just predisposed to the former, right now. "Nice? Are you sure you want me to be…nice?"
Sara's smirk grows as she experimentally moves a leg, pressing against him. "Define 'nice.' "
The move draws a growl from his throat, and Len ducks his head to brush his lips along her jawbone, a kiss that also comes with the faint scrape of teeth. " 'Well done,' " he whispers into her ear, then moves his lips down to her neck. " 'Kind.' " To her collarbone. " 'Respectable.' " To her shoulder. " 'Pleasing…'"
"Only…you could…ahhhh…make vocabulary hot…Len…"
It's a good way to start a new chapter.
By the time they make their way over to the other house, it's later than Sara's pretty sure either one of them planned. And she's also pretty sure she's embodying every stereotype of "just got laid" that exists—from the smile on her face (it just won't go away) to her state of relaxation, to the way her hair, no matter how much she tries to tame it in a way acceptable to 1958, just won't behave.
Len, of course, is as cool and collected as always—or at least, he looks it. He smirks at a semi-dressed Sara as she grumbles at her hair, casually tossing a hat from hand to hand, only to jump just a little as she knocks it to the ground. She perches the hat on her own head, watching through hooded eyes as he pauses in trying to reclaim it, and things could so very easily have wound up with both of them tumbled back in bed together…
But they behave. For now.
Ginny, who's sitting at the dining room table with Rebecca and Dorothea when the couple enters the house, raises her eyebrows nearly immediately, looking from one to the other with an expression of dawning glee. But she doesn't blurt anything out—at least, not at the moment. Rebecca seems oblivious, caught up in her own worries, but Doro also eyes them and shakes her head, smiling, even as she declines to comment.
"Thank you," though, she does say, almost formally, to both Sara and Leonard as she rises to her feet. "I apologize for my lapse last night, Mr… Leonard. Sincerely, I do. I wasn't…"
The woman's voice trails off as her expression closes. In some ways, Doro might actually be the easiest around Leonard…she was the first to use his given name, after being assured that he prefers it…but she sometimes steps back and falls into the habits of a survivor, the reflexes of a brown-skinned woman trying to make her way and her children's in a world that's hostile to them in so many ways. And while she might trust them...she knows better than to let that trust go too far.
Leonard steps toward her, but not too close, Sara notices.
"Stress gets to people," he tells her gently. "It's OK."
Dorothea studies him a moment, then glances at Sara for some reason. Sara does her best to look supportive and understanding. She knows that she can't know, not really, both as a white woman and a person from 2016, what the other woman's road has been like. Keeping her mouth shut seems like the best thing to do.
Then Dorothea nods, just a little, and motions toward Rebecca and Ginny.
"They say you want to sit down and have a bit of a talk about what's next. I don't know that I have much I can add," she says carefully. "I...if I get involved in any trouble...well. It's best I don't."
But Leonard's already nodding in understanding, and a look of relief crosses her features as she sees it. Doro sets her shoulders and nods again
"I'll just go keep an eye on the children. I'm sure the girls are keeping young Mr. Jacobi hopping," she says, amusement entering her tone. "Or at least reading the same book for the 10th time in a row."
Rebecca stands, hesitates, and then leans over to give the other woman a hug, a gesture that makes Dorothea pause. "Thank you," she says quietly, then adds something Sara can't hear. Ginny bounds to her feet and throws her arms around both of them, squeezing, and Dorothea actually chuckles a little at the younger woman's enthusiasm before disentangling herself and heading for the stairs, raising her voice a little to let the house's younger residents know she's on her way.
Rebecca sits neatly back down, but Ginny turns to them, grinning, although she again stops short before saying anything. (Sara decides Rebecca must have kicked her under the table.) Finally, she sits too, folding her hands and giving Rebecca a look that says, plainly, "Look! I can behave!"
Sara, amused even she feels…old, yes, definitely old…shakes her head as she heads to the kitchen. She's become used to making coffee with a percolator, but from the scent of things, someone already has.
Ahhh, yes. She pours a cup for herself and Leonard, asking the other two if they want any and getting polite demurrals. Ginny continues sitting almost at attention, but a bit of worry has entered her expression, stress and even a touch of fear. Rebecca reaches out and pats her hand, and Ginny grabs her fingers like a lifeline, not letting go.
Len's seated himself sort of across from them, long legs stretched out in front of him and regret in his eyes. She knows he doesn't like making them uncomfortable, but this is a conversation they need to have. And they all know it.
Sara sits next to him, sliding a coffee over, and he sits up to take it, letting his fingers brush hers in a definite caress. Ginny, she sees, notes it and smiles again, and at least there's that.
But it's time to talk about other things now.
"You OK?" Sara asks Ginny gently, not entirely referring to her arm.
The other woman swallows hard, but nods. "Little sore, but OK," she confirms. "He…he scared me. I thought he was gonna…" She turns her head to regard Rebecca. "…well. Thought he'd hurt someone else." Anger sparks again, the embers of the bonfire Sara had seen last night. "Ain't letting him do that again. I'm not." Her eyes dart back to Sara's. "What you did, it was amazing. An' you made it look so easy. Teach me more! Please?"
Sara opens her mouth, then closes it, glancing at Leonard, who sips his coffee, eyes calm.
She nods, then. How can she not?
"I will," she confirms. "But we…have to talk about some other things, first."
They'd talked about this, this morning, getting dressed, trying to keep their minds on the trials still ahead of them instead of the alluring distractions posed by each other and all the possible pleasures thereof. It had, somewhat, worked.
Somewhat.
Sara drags her mind away from that (and the knowing sparkle in Len's eyes as he watches her) and looks back at Ginny, who's watching her steadily.
"First, and I can't believe I didn't ask about this before, if there any chance he could come back here with a gun?" she asks. "Wayne? Could he do that? Would he?"
Ginny opens her mouth, then closes it, looking a bit surprised.
"Well...I mean, he has them," she says haltingly. "But...he won't. At least, I don't think he will." She lets go of Rebecca, then picks up her hands, turning them over as if to study them "Look, to do that, he'd have to admit that a bunch of...of women are a threat. One he needs firepower to deal with. And he won't do that. At least, not yet."
It's a very astute observation, and Sara nods to the other woman, impressed. "Even with what I did?"
Ginny snorts, giving her a world-weary look.
"Honey, by the time he was to the end of the block, I'll bet he convinced himself that it was a fluke," she tells Sara. "You know...he slipped. You got lucky. 'Cause how could a little thing like you take down a big ol' tough man like him?" She shrugs. "Now, if...when...it happens again...I dunno."
"Eventually he'd have to start seeing me as a threat," Sara murmurs. "And that could up the ante. Better if that doesn't happen." Sure, she can take out some yoyo with a gun. But unless she simply kills him—something she's trying to avoid—escalation just means more chance of others getting hurt.
Leonard leans forward again, then. "What if I paid him off?" he says suddenly. "I could do it." He gives the women an apologetic shrug as they look at him. "If he sees you as his property...would that do it?"
But Ginny's shaking her head almost violently at his words, her hands on fists on the table. "No. No, no," she says. "That'd be like...still like you were taking something that's his, even if you threw some cash at him afterward. That'd be an insult. Even more of an insult. That would be bad."
Leonard sits back with an annoyed hmmph, though it's not directed at Ginny. Sara, sensing his annoyance with that kind of alpha male posturing, bumps his knee with hers, continuing to consider the matter.
"Then..." Rebecca muses aloud, "...what would make him think he just, well, doesn't want you anymore?" She gives the other woman a worried look. "I can't imagine why he'd ever decide that."
The words come out more openly affectionate than Sara thinks Rebecca intended, and the woman's face flares scarlet a moment later as she realizes it. Sara hides a grin, and hears Len's nearly imperceptible huff of laughter, but Ginny just leans over and bumps Rebecca's shoulder affectionately with hers, not unlike that way Sara had interacted with Leonard just a moment ago.
"You," she tells the other woman, "are the sweetest. But I don't think it's like that. Not anymore." She nibbles on her lip, casually reaching out to take Rebecca's hand again. (Sara's grin grows just a little wider.) "I mean...now I think it's all for appearances' sake. His wife runs off, people are gonna be asking why." She shrugs. "Maybe if we give him a reason he really doesn't want me around? I think he still thinks he can cow me and it'll be back to the usual. Jus'...well, rougher."
Sara shudders at that, and she doesn't miss how Len tenses next to her. But it's Rebecca who suddenly looks thoughtful.
"Then you have to show him that it really won't," she says. "Be the same. I mean, you say he'll think it's a fluke that Miss Nyssen...Sara...knocked him down. What if you did it? More than once? Let him see he'll have to...to deal with a Virginia who's not taking his...his nonsense...ever again. He won't like the appearances of that, will he?"
Ginny stares at her, then looks at Sara, whose eyes are narrowed in thought.
"If he thought you could do that, he wouldn't want you back, right?" she says slowly. "Too much chance of you embarrassing him. And he wouldn't want anyone to know. And like you've said—rural communities, everyone knows."
"Yeah, they didn't care he was beatin' me, but, boy, will the hens cluck if I was able to return the favor." Ginny sounds jaded far beyond her years. "I mean...I don' really want to hurt anyone, not even him, but if I just showed I could..."
Sara's nodding back at her now. "He's big, but there's no finesse there," she tells the other woman. "And no imagination. You're tough, you're smart, you could learn. It wouldn't be like the few tricks I've shown you so far, though. It'd be real training. You want to do this?"
Ginny bites her lip, then, glancing downward. The others wait, in silence as she considers.
In a way, this is how heroes are born, Sara thinks. This thought of "If I don't do something, they're going to hurt people." No matter who "they" is—and there's always a "they."
Sometimes it's an enemy. Sometimes it's a friend. Sometimes it's even someone you used to love.
Sara waits, watching her, and although she doesn't look at Leonard, she suspects he knows the import and the impact of this moment too. He's still coming to grips with the notion of being a hero himself—or at the very least, certainly not a villain—and she's seen how his choices in this time have shown the man he could have been from the beginning. A hero? Well, she thinks so.
The rest is up to him.
But this is Ginny's choice, and Ginny's moment, and after only a minute or so, the young woman nods decisively.
"I'll do it," she announces, looking determined. "Or I'll try."
"There is no try," Leonard tells her solemnly, even as Sara elbows him, having anticipated his words. Ginny blinks at him, but then shrugs, giving Sara a look of anticipation.
"Can we start now?" she asks eagerly.
Sara laughs a little, holding up her hands. "Give me a day! I have some thoughts, but I want to practice a few things." She leans back in her chair and gives Len an arch look. "You OK playing practice dummy? She needs to be able to take on someone bigger…"
He gives her a look right back. "As long as I get to wear some protective gear. You don't want…me…damaged, do you?"
The innuendo is thick in his tone, probably a little too thick for polite company in 1958. But while Rebecca goes a little red, she giggles, and Ginny actually claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, although her eyes dance.
"Sara would never forgive me," she manages after a moment, trying to keep a straight face.
Leonard's lips twitch, but he otherwise keeps a straight face, too, and then smoothly changes the subject. "After you mentioned that you were worried that Wayne was actually staying in the city, I did some research. That's not the case, anyway. Seems like he just gets nerve up to come looking for you every few weeks."
Ginny nods. "Probably when his brothers visit to help out a bit. They...they egg him on." A shadow crosses her face and Sara bites back the urge to go track down the Travers farm. "I...he was so mad this time, I wonder if he'll be back sooner."
"Then we'll get to it," Sara tells him, pushing back her chair. "Tomorrow morning, bright and early." She gives the other woman a serious look. "A warrior trains every day."
Ginny gulps, looking at Rebecca, then back at Sara. "Me? A warrior?" Her voice holds a slightly uncertain mix of trepidation and pride.
Sara smiles at her, thinking about the bravery it must take to make this decision, in this time. "Gin, you're already a warrior. This will just make it a little more official."
Sara decides on a modified form of Krav Maga—modified, because they don't really want to kill or maim the man, or so she tells herself—with some elements of aikido, teaching her pupil to use an attacker's strength against him. She rousts the other woman out of her bed earlier the next morning than both of them would really like, taking advantage of some spring warmth outside and leading Ginny through some stretching exercises she'd already learned before starting to teach her the first offensive techniques.
Leonard beats a hasty retreat to his office when Sara starts talking about the most effective way to use a knee, making both women laugh, but for the most part, they're pretty serious. Ginny's uncertain about actually trying to hit her trainer and Sara knows they're going to have to work at that, but all in all, it's not a bad first training session. There's some instinctive grace there, and no little motivation.
"You're teaching who what?" Kendra's voice is amused when Sara talks to her later, sitting in the office, her feet curled underneath her in the desk chair.
Sara, knowing perfectly well her friend had heard her, just chuckles, toying with the phone cord. "I know, I know, it's not quite…normal for the '50s, but…Kendra, we have to do something. And it's giving her some agency back; you should see the change." She thinks back about earlier. "You know, I think she's going to be quite good. Maybe we can start a trend: the first women's self-defense studio in the United States. I don't think it's a thing yet, at all."
Kendra makes a low hmmmm of thought. Sara, sensing hesitation, frowns, but waits.
"Do you ever wonder what sort of impact we're having on the future?" Kendra says finally. "If we should be being more careful?"
Sara snorts. "Well, then maybe they should have come back for us sooner." She ignores the possibility that maybe they can't. "We're surviving however we can."
Kendra sighs. "I know, but…Ray's trying to avoid leaking advanced science stuff in his classes, but…you know Ray. And you two are…with what you're up to." Another sigh, but Sara can hear her purposefully lighten her tone. "Me...I don't think I'm changing anything with boredom and baked goods, but I guess you never know."
Sara can't help feeling a pang of guilt. She's not foolish enough to think she could have really stayed in Nickel City without some sort of meaningful occupation—but Kendra is her friend, one of her few links to home, and she's abandoned her.
"I know Len's planning to go to Gotham soon; I'll meet you there," she says suddenly. "OK? We'll call Kathy first, set...something...up. Go out and kick some ass."
"That sounds great." Kendra pauses. "Oh. 'Len?' Really?"
"Hmm." Sara can't quite decide how to play this. But after a moment, her friend just laughs.
"You sound happy, Sara," she says quietly. "I can't say I'm not surprised. The crook? Really? But I could see the sparks, before. And I…I'm not the sort that says people can't change, or that sometimes they don't have to do things they'd prefer not to to survive. I mean…I used to be a barista. And then there was Savage…and Carter…"
Sara isn't sure what to say for a moment. "Are you…OK? Do you want me to…"
But Kendra immediately demurs. "No! Really. I'm OK." She laughs again, a quiet chuckle that nonetheless sounds sincere. "I'm happy with Ray. I'm just...a little bored. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to be Hawkgirl again."
Sara, who still considers herself White Canary, just with a different set of people to protect, feels another pang of guilt. "The beacon...?"
"Still working. Still waiting."
Teaching suits Sara.
As the days go on, Leonard can't help but linger, watching, as Sara works with Ginny either in the backyard of 19 Gabriel Drive or in the small studio in their own house. He's seen her fight all out, throwing herself and all those formidable skills at enemies, kicking ass without hesitation, like the tempered human weapon she can be, and it's a beautiful thing.
This is different. This is all that passion and fire harnessed, turned to a focus that's more confined, but no less formidable. It's also no less beautiful, he thinks, watching her adjust Ginny's stance a little, patiently explaining the move they're working on and then demonstrating it slowly, then faster, then faster yet, poetry in motion, flickering to a stop and motioning to the other woman to try it.
Ginny nods, looking determined, then slowly copies her. Then faster. Faster, laughing out loud suddenly as something clicks, and then unexpectedly combining it with another move, a side kick, doing precisely what Leonard's pretty sure she's supposed to, careful practice taking the first steps toward becoming instinct.
Sara's smiling, one of the happiest looks he's ever seen on her, aware of the same thing he is, and then glances up and sees him watching. The smile grows, her eyes sparkling, and Len grins back, aware more than ever before that there's no way he's ever going to be able to fool her again, not after their nights together, not after this...
He's in love with Sara Lance.
The thought, without warning, hits him like a bullet, actually startling a tiny, nearly imperceptible noise from his lips. Sara's already looking back at Ginny and doesn't see it, doesn't hear it, and Len takes a step back, out of view, digesting this startling epiphany.
It's not like he hadn't know he was headed there, maybe even that he was there. But he's shied away from putting it into words or even concrete thought. The cynic in him wants to chalk it up to time drift, but he knows, deep down, that's not true. The potential was there even before they got stuck here together, long before they'd kissed or shared a bed or a home or long, satisfying nights together. It's just had time and room to grow.
He's in love with Sara Lance.
And he has no idea what to do with that realization.
So he just sort of tucks it away for a bit. For now.
Neither of them feels comfortable leaving for a sojourn to Gotham until the Wayne issue is dealt with, so Dorothea and the girls are sticking around just a little longer. Sara finds she enjoys spending time with the twins, doing her best to instill some (realistic for the time) feminism, showing Ann some of the basic first aid she'd learned with the League, encouraging the girl's ambitions.
She tries to encourage Ama, too, but the other girl is steadfast that she's not interested in "all that schooling stuff." Still, she only makes the mistake of calling her sister "the smart one" once in Sara's hearing.
"Don't say that," Sara tells her immediately, thinking of all the times she and Laurel had been pigeonholed into "the good one" and "the wild one." "You're just as smart. It's not wrong to want different things."
The look Ama gives her is skeptical, but the girl nods, looking over to where her sister is sitting and quietly playing with dolls. (Using rags to practice bandaging, actually, Sara notices with amusement.)
"You got a sister?" she asks after a moment, in a tone that suggests she's already guessed the answer.
"I do," Sara confirms. "An older one. Her name is Laurel."
"That's a pretty name." Ama shrugs. "It's OK. I don't mind being not being 'the smart one.' That way, it surprises people more when you do something smart." She pauses as Sara reflects on the wisdom of that comment. "You gonna marry Mr. Wynters? My mom says you should."
Sara's been getting reaccustomed to the way talking to small children can give one whiplash, but this makes her blink. "I...what?"
The girl gives a surprisingly adult snort. "She told Miss Schuyler that maybe you're married to someone else, one of you, because you're not married to each other. But you live in the same house and you're..." Her voice takes on a tone that's clearly mimicking her mother. "... defin'etly sleeping together."
She pauses, then. "Miss Nyssen, I don't get it. What does sleeping got to do with being married?"
Sara opens her mouth. Closes it. That, she decides, isn't something she's willing to touch.
"Neither one of us is married to someone else," she says instead. "We just...have a lot of things to do right now."
Ama looks unconvinced. But to Sara's relief, that's the end of that particular conversation.
Even with the days given to training, helping watch the kids and run Wynters Security Systems, and just the basic stuff of life—Len and Sara share most of the household upkeep, including cooking and laundry, but it takes far more time than typical in 2016—Sara finds the evenings getting long.
Sometimes she'll play board games over at 19 Gabriel Drive (and enjoy the conversation of other women), but sometimes the self-editing necessary for even forward-thinking ladies of 1958 gets old. She'll chat with Kendra on the telephone, but Kendra also has a life of her own, and evenings are when Ray is most likely to be home.
With a few exceptions, the television shows of the time don't appeal at all. And while her relationship—whatever they're calling it, or not calling it—with Leonard now provides any number of satisfying physical distractions, they can't spend all their time in bed.
They still play cards, of course, like they'd started on the ship what seems like forever ago, but sometimes Sara's just not feeling it.
She's lying on the sofa, one evening about two weeks after she starts training Ginny, studying the ceiling and trying not to think about the myriad of things she doesn't want to think about, when Len emerges from the office, where he'd been tinkering with what might be a prototype security camera. Sara glances at him, smiling a little as he holds up their deck of cards and waves it a little in invitation.
"Even Go Fish requires more brainpower than I want to use right now," she sighs. "I miss Netflix. I just want to curl up and...escape a little. Is that so much to ask?"
Leonard considers her a moment, thoughtfully, then turns aside, sauntering over to the bookshelf where they've slowly been building up a collection—albeit him more than Sara. She watches, tilting her head, as he studies the row of books, then selects one and moves back toward her.
Sara moves her bare feet just long enough for him to sit down, plopping them back down in his lap after he does. Len lifts an eyebrow at her, then opens the book, paging through a bit before selecting a spot—and starting to read out loud.
"When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced," he reads, in that low, thoughtful tone, devoid of drawl, that she likes so much, "that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday..."
Sara's eyes dart to his face. "Seriously?"
"Should I pick something different?"
"No...I've never read it." She snickers at the not-entirely-mock look of horror on his face. "I saw the movies, though."
"That's appalling."
"Stop being judgy and read, Len." Sara leans back against the throw pillows with a contented sigh and closes her eyes to listen to that smoky voice continue the tale of hobbits and quests and elves and kings.
They actually get a little more time than expected before Ginny's ex-husband rears his ugly head again. Still, Sara personally wouldn't have minded even more.
It's not that Ginny hasn't taken to the intensive lessons in self-defense. She has, to a degree that's actually been a bit startling to Sara. She's a natural, in many ways, probably more than that girl on the Gambit was so long ago. And she's more than ready to take on a big-but-unimaginative opponent and show him that she's no longer someone who has to take his garbage.
Physically, anyway.
Sara's just not sure if, despite that decision weeks ago now, Ginny's truly ready for what it will be like to face down someone she once loved, or at least cared for in some capacity, and—without putting too fine a point on it—to hurt them until they agree to stop hurting her. But it may be that the only way to find out is simply to do it.
And so it proves.
One day less than three weeks after the last time Wayne showed up seeking trouble, Sara hears the squeal of tires outside, and the familiar roar of a truck engine that's seen better days. Even before the first bellow, she's yelled for Len, who's upstairs, and headed for the door, then remembers the plan and detours for the rear entrance, out into their backyard, which is fairly empty. However, a few trees screen it from the front, providing a decent and semi-concealed vantage point.
The man sits in his truck a moment this time, staring at the other house, and Sara enjoys a brief feeling of satisfaction that she may have made him just a bit more reluctant to cause trouble. But it can't last, and in another moment, he's out, anger visible on his face even from there, stomping toward the building.
And then Ginny's there, on the side porch, watching him.
Sara feels more than sees a flicker of movement besides her vantage point, but she doesn't take her eyes off the scene. At least, not until a vaguely familiar metallic sound makes her glance over.
"Is that…a silencer?"
Len nods, a bit curtly, making sure the device is firmly attached to his handgun. He studies the scene before them, as Ginny starts down the stairs and her ex stops in his tracks, then nods again. Sara knows perfectly well he's good enough to make the shot.
"We both know that when she fights back, actually does it effectively, he might react very badly," he says quietly. "Even more violently. And I'm not going to let him kill her. Or anyone else." He glances at Sara, then. "But only if it goes south."
Sara studies him in return, then nods back. "Not the first body I've ever had to hide."
Leonard smirks at her. "Scary. I like it," he drawls, leaning on their habitual banter even at a rather fraught moment.
She smirks back…and then a sudden noise from the space between houses draws their attention back again.
"….no," Ginny is saying. "It's not ever happening, Wayne. I ain't goin' back, and you…you really don't want me to." Sara can see her lift her chin in determination. "I ain't the same person. I ain't gonna be your punchin' bag ever again."
The asshole stares at her a moment, then actually lets out a bark of laughter.
"C'mon, Virgie," he says, using a nickname that makes her visibly wince. "Enough drama. I don't care what kinda line these weird people been feedin' you. You're my wife. You belong wit' me."
But Ginny's shaking her head. "No. I don't. Move on with your life, Wayne. I ain't going back," she repeats. "Don't make me show you."
Another bark of laughter, but the edge of anger is audible. "Don' make me show you," he rumbles, menace in the tone. "I jus' taught you lessons you needed to learn. Looks like you need more."
He reaches for her arm, and…
And then he's on the ground, and Ginny is backing away, expression calmer than Sara ever would have believed possible. Hell, she wants to punch the air and cheer, but the other woman is remaining cool and almost professional.
"Leave, Wayne," she says. "I kin' keep doin' this."
The man stares up at her a moment, then clambers to his feet. His face is going red with rage, now, and Sara can see his hands balled up in fists. He hurls an epithet at her, then starts forward again. Sara, encouraged by how sloppy his movements are already, mutters to herself as if Ginny can hear, willing her to choose the right tactics.
She shouldn't have worried. As he drives his right fist toward Ginny's face, the woman moves aside, grabbing his hand and using his own momentum to power a throw, sending him sprawling into the driveway again. He lands badly, utterly stunned by the move, and Ginny backs away and watches patiently, waiting for him to rise.
They'd already discussed that she'd have to. Without multiple instances to stick in his memory, Wayne might have reacted the same way Ginny had predicted he'd react to Sara's earlier takedown—assuming it'd been a fluke, that he'd merely slipped or stumbled.
By the time the man struggles to his feet again, Sara's wondering if they might have to exert their body-disposal skills even without the use of Len's gun. Wayne Travers is so scarlet with rage that she's truly wondering if he's going to have a heart attack or stroke and keel over right there.
But he doesn't. Instead, he lunges again.
And falls. And lunges.
And falls.
Ginny seems almost disappointed that she hasn't had to use more of the skills Sara had taught her, and she doesn't back away quite as quickly after she topples him the fourth time. Wayne staggers to his feet again, staring at her like she's grown fangs, and Sara wonders if maybe the man will capitulate without actual bodily injury. Leonard hums next to her, thoughtfully, his gun having vanished again to whatever holster he's keeping it in.
But, no. Wayne grabs for her again and this time she lets him grasp her arms, making Sara tense and take a step forward…
But then, before he can make another move, Ginny drives her knee up, hard, and Wayne crumples with a strangled noise, hitting the ground like a bag of rocks, without even trying to catch himself. Sara doesn't even try to stifle her cheer this time, even as Len makes a faint noise of…well, not sympathy, but involuntary empathy, anyway.
As planned, they start moving slowly toward the scene now, just in case Ginny needs backup, keeping their distance, but getting close enough to hear more clearly.
Ginny waits a moment for her ex to be a little more aware of anything other than pain, then gets a little closer, just not close enough to be grabbed. She glances over toward them—Sara can see how carefully controlled her expression is—then back at the man on the ground.
Then she pulls a wad of bills out of...somewhere... and tosses it at him. It lands in the gravel next to his face, tough to miss. Sara glances at Len—Ginny doesn't have that kind of money—and sees a smile hovering around his lips as he watches. The business and all the stocks he's invested in here have paid off handsomely, she knows.
Then she smiles too. There are different kinds of heroes.
"I saved that up," Ginny's telling Wayne in a hard tone—lying through her teeth, but he doesn't know it. "Take it as...as compensation for your lost property. And I'll match it when you sign the divorce papers a lawyer'll be bringing you."
She takes a step closer, and the man actually...scuttles...back, away from her. Sara wants to cheer again.
"No one ever needs to know I kin kick your ass," Ginny's continuing. "You leave here, you never come back, maybe you find some other stupid young thing to marry and beat on." She shrugs. "You tell people I begged you to take me back and you refused. I don' care, and I'll never tell. I don' wanna go back there ever again. Just go away and you leave me be."
Then she takes a step back. And waits.
After a moment or two, Wayne Travers struggles to his feet. He stares at his wife—his ex-wife—like he's never seen her before. And then he backs away.
Sara notes, cynically, that he makes sure to take the money.
After a few steps, he turns and walks for the truck. There's no anger in his demeanor now, just a baffled confusion. And a finality, as he climbs in, and drives away.
Ginny watches him go, until the truck vanishes down the street, out of sight. Then Sara can see her shoulders sag, just a little, in apparent relief before she spins, looking at the house and then Sara and Len.
Sara takes a step forward, but then the door to No. 19 bangs shut and Rebecca's moved out onto the porch, pausing before hurrying down the steps and out onto the driveway before hesitating again.
Ginny doesn't hesitate. She laughs out loud, a happy, free sound, then runs for the other woman, throwing her arms around Rebecca's shoulders and kissing her soundly on the mouth before spinning her around, letting go, and dashing toward Sara and Leonard.
Sara sees Rebecca, looking startled, raise a hand to her lips just before Ginny nearly tackles her.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she chants, spinning Sara around too and then letting go to fling her arms around a bemused Leonard. "Oh, I can't believe I did that!"
Len pats her on the back just a bit awkwardly as Sara grins at him. "He could still be back..."
"I don' think so. I could tell." Ginny lets go of Leonard as Rebecca joins them and Dorothea comes out on the porch to take in the scene. "Oh, that was somethin!" She nods to Sara. "I want to learn more. And I want to teach people..."
Sara holds up her hands, laughing. "OK! OK! We'll see what we can do."
But then Ginny's turned away again, hugging Dorothea and then Rebecca again, and it seems that maybe it's time for a celebration.
Tomorrow and all its victories and problems can wait.
