Destined to Lose You
They're trapped in a small space this time, but at least Leonard's chosen it. Sort of.
It keeps them both safe, anyway. But that feeling something's going wrong hasn't gone away, and he just needs to get away from here, to get them both safe, to find a place where things can't get any worse.
Of course, idiot that he is, he makes things worse himself.
He doesn't have a great reason he pulls his gun on Sara. He's scared, for himself, for her, for Mick, even for the rest of the morons who make up the team. He can't think straight beyond his sense of self-preservation, but he knows he'd never shoot her, and he knows that Sara knows it, too, and maybe this pointless gesture of violence will get her moving, will get them out of here and somewhere safe where they can reevaluate in relative peace.
It's the wrong move, and he knows it, and when she calls him on it, he has a sinking feeling in his gut. It tells him he's fucked stuff up, just like he always knew he would. The self-loathing is tempered some by the fact that she doesn't believe for a second that he'll shoot her. Even while he's being the biggest ass of his life, she believes that there's good in him.
She even goes as far as turning her back to him while he's still got the weapon pointed at her, and all the fight leaves him at that.
He pulled his fucking gun on her.
She knew he wouldn't use it, never doubted that for a second, but it still stings that he did it. She isn't some delicate flower by any means, and sparring with him more often than they had been sounded great, but he'd pulled a gun on her.
It wasn't a joke, it wasn't part of training. He'd done it because…
Why had he done it? He'd been worried, on edge, she knew. But to that extent?
Maybe it was some misogynistic need to protect his mate, doing anything he had to in order to get her somewhere safe, but she didn't exactly care for that idea, either. Besides, she hadn't seen him treating people differently because of their gender, not unless he was playing into stereotypes to maintain a disguise.
Regardless of the reason, she's pissed and a little hurt. He's her soulmate, and she thinks she should be able to trust him, and then he goes and does this.
But maybe that's the problem. She does still trust him, despite this. She can't tell whether it's the soulmate bond or just because she knows him, knows that it wasn't really the threat it appeared and that she was never in danger. Not knowing which it is pisses her off more.
He goes along with her plan, though. His arguments are halfhearted at best. He makes no further move to take control of the ship or the mission, and she figures that's both an apology and a display of a hell of a lot of trust.
By the time they've rescued the team, which actually goes pretty much as planned for once, she's cooled off a little. She'd say she's annoyed, but she's no longer actively angry. Instead, she wants time alone with him or time alone with herself, wants some time to think away from the team, but she's stuck listening as much of what she knew about life and rules is turned upside down.
He can't lose her. Soulmates are supposed to be a guarantee, but if these bastards manipulate time according to their whims, who's to say they can't take her away from him?
Meanwhile Sara's still mad at him, he thinks. She's standing across the room, despite the fact that they seem to be on the same page. And though she does manage a genuine smile at him before they part ways, she still holes up alone at the first chance.
He gives her some time. He did fuck up, and if she needs some time alone to think, he'll give her that.
He doesn't give her too long, though. He's tired of waiting in this in between they have. This whole day has made him desperately aware of how easy it would be to lose her. He doesn't want to let that happen, not ever, but especially not before they've moved beyond the occasional hug.
He's ready. He… He loves her, has for some time, even if that's still hard to admit even to himself. There's no other word that fits, though, nothing else that encompasses what he feels for his spirited soulmate.
So he's done waiting. Maybe the timing could be better, what with having just pointed his gun at her and all, but he needs her to know he's ready. He's all in. And when she's ready, too, maybe they can do something about it.
He finds her, cards in hand as a distraction, and apologizes, in his way, for what happened earlier, simultaneously venting his frustration at the Time Masters' manipulation.
They talk for a minute, and then he sees and opening and takes it.
"I started to wonder what the future might hold for me. And you. And me and you."
She looks at him before responding, thinking her answer through. It's not like the idea of a future is anything new for them; they're soulmates, after all. But they've spent so much time avoiding the subject that she knows when he brings it up, he isn't just talking idly.
He wants to be together, properly together, and he picks now to tell her this. Now, after he was a stupid jerk earlier.
Despite her residual anger, she can't shoot him down, not really. But she isn't ready, not today. Tomorrow? Sure, they can talk about it tomorrow. Today, she's allowed to be pissed.
"You want to steal a kiss from me, Leonard?" It's a challenge. She's putting into words exactly what their next step should be. Further, she knows he can't resist a good heist, and he's the best thief she knows, on multiple levels. "You better be one hell of a thief."
She sees his smirk as she spins away and leaves the room before she can change her mind. They have forever together. She can deal with this tomorrow.
There's not really much of a choice involved, when it comes down to it. He's not about to let his partner die. He's not about to let Sara take his place. The others have left, and if he's honest, he's not sure he'd let any of them take over this suicide mission, either.
Somewhere along the road, they all started to matter to him in some way or another. Besides, he kinda likes being the one to give a giant "fuck you" to the people who've been manipulating them all this time.
He doesn't like that he'll be leaving Sara behind. He remembers how bad it was losing her before they'd even met. He knows it'll be infinitely worse now. But Sara's strong, one of the strongest people he knows. She'll make it. She has to.
They don't really have time for goodbyes. He can see the pain she feels at the idea of letting him do this, and he's afraid she's going to argue. He's not sure he has the strength to do this if she tries to talk him out of it. She responds to his gruff commands with denial, and then a look, before she surges forward, wrapping her hand around his arm and pressing her lips to his.
For a fraction of a second, he wishes she hadn't. This shouldn't be their first kiss. It's an ending and a beginning, and it kind of feels like when they first met and his world turned upside down and rightside up all at once.
But it's Sara. It's Sara, and her lips are finally against his, and he leans into the kiss as best he can given the circumstances. His eyes are closed, focusing on the feel of her, on the soft strength she has even at that point of contact, on the way her lips fit between his and give him just the slightest, tantalizing taste of her.
The kiss lasts forever, and it's much too short, and then she's pulling away and getting Mick to safety and before he knows it, his world explodes and then goes dark.
She and Mick both find their way to the bar. Sara feels like she's walking through a haze; her eyes are open, but she can't quite see.
She sits across from Mick, and she rests her head in her hands, not even aware of the oppressive silence until she gasps.
She'd felt it when they'd first met, so surely she should've felt it when he died. He's still alive, she thinks, straightening, shrugging out of her jacket and letting it fall to the floor. He's still—
Her tattoo is black and white. The pretty little snowflake has been drained of color, black replacing blue, and her world has been pulled apart, with no hope of putting it back together again.
"Sara…" Mick's using her name instead of calling her Blondie. If she's had any doubt, she knows now that everything is wrong. She can hear the pain in his voice, knows he's lost his partner and has to be hurting, too, but she can't bring herself to ask if he's okay.
Neither of them is okay.
"Soulmates are never supposed to be separated," she says, swiping tears off her cheek. "That's the deal. You find your other half, and that's it. You have a partner for life.
"So why am I alone now? Tell me, Mick. Tell me!" The tears are streaming down her face now, and she's given up trying to wipe them away. She watches Mick, waiting for an answer.
He can't tell her though, obviously, but he does tell her about Katy, and he moves to her side of the bar and puts an arm around her when she can't stop crying, for her black and white tattoo, for Leonard's, for Mick's.
"I'm sorry, Mick," she sobs, and he pats her shoulder awkwardly but doesn't pull away. "I'm sorry."
