Sara arrives home sometime the next morning. When she left, the family was still taking over the waiting room, having an early breakfast of vending machine food and hospital coffee that they passed around in a circle while still talking over one another. Sara had never dealt with so much jovial noise before, even when Quentin and Laurel were alive.
Oliver, for some reason, is waiting at the top of the stairs just next to her apartment door. Sara and Oliver have little to no communication, save for the few times he's stood stoicly next to her to scare a man away or fixed something in her apartment at Moira's request.
"Mother was worried when you didn't come home as usual," he says, starting down the stairs. When they meet in the middle, he adds, "I put the tree up in your living room. I hope you don't mind that my mother let me in."
"Thank you," Sara says, taking a step up and away. "A passenger had an accident. I spent the night in the hospital to see if they were okay."
At Oliver's silence, Sara turns to walk back up the stairs. She tries to find her keys when she reaches the top, rifling through her small purse that is filled with too many old receipts and crumpled dollar bills.
"And are they?"
Sara stops, hand finally meeting cool metal, and looks at Oliver, who is standing at the bottom of the steps.
"Are they… what?"
"Are they okay?"
"Oh," Sara flushes and smiles. "They're in a coma, but the doctor has high hopes."
Oliver leaves her, taking a few steps before opening and shutting the door to his mother's apartment. Sara fishes her keys out of her purse and enters her own apartment, looking at the magnificent tree perched just in front of the one large window. There's an open box of ornaments resting on top of the coffee table, and Sara knows they aren't hers. The note next to them reads, We had extra. -Moira.
There's a voicemail on her machine stating that Rip has found someone to cover her shift, considering what she witnessed.
Sara smiles and starts decorating her tree, head filled with thoughts of family and fiancees.
.
That night, Sara finds that despite her all-nighter at the hospital, she still can't sleep. She spent most of the day and evening listening to the festivities below, a mess of Queens and Deardens filling Moira's apartment and the courtyard shared by all the tenants. It's just past 11, and after two hours of tossing and turning, Sara gets out of bed, throws on the first sweater and jeans she can find, and grabs her father's old coat as she walks out the door. The streets are cold and quiet, just how she likes them, and Sara walks past her usual subway stop before getting on at the next one.
She passes the ER entrance, which is busy with the usual stupidity of the holidays, and finds her way to Lisa in the ICU. The family is nowhere to be seen, probably having spent Christmas morning here, and Sara has no trouble walking into Lisa's room and standing at her bedside.
Lisa, despite the mess of tubes and fluorescent lights, looks beautiful.
"Hi," Sara breathes. "I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here in the middle of the night, huh? Well, I thought I should introduce myself. My name is Sara. Sara Lance.
"I think you should know that your family thinks we're engaged. I've never been engaged before; this is all very sudden for me."
Sara laughs, tucking a hair behind her ear as if Lisa could see her reddened cheeks.
"What I really came here to tell you was that I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know what to do. I mean, if you were awake, I wouldn't be in this mess. Not that this is your fault!" Sara reaches out to grab one of Lisa's ankles before pulling her hand back. "Sorry. It's just that, you know, when I was a kid, I always imagined what I would be like or where I would be or what I would have when I got older. The normal stuff. I'd have a house and family and things like that.
"Not that I'm complaining or anything." Sara moves to sit down. "I have a cat. I have an apartment —" Sara stops to think — "Sole possession of the remote control. That's very important. It's just… I never met anybody that I could laugh with. I had lovers and flings and meaningless sex, but… never anybody I could trust."
Sara smiles with tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, ready to laugh them away.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" She asks Lisa instead. "No, I bet you don't. You're probably too sensible for that. Or have you ever seen somebody and you knew that if only that person really knew you… They would… they would realize that you were the one that they wanted to grow old with."
A few tears fall before Sara wipes them away, making a stupid face until the rest dry up in her tear ducts.
"Have you ever fallen in love with somebody you've barely even talked to?" She laughs to herself or at herself or with herself; she doesn't know. "Have you ever been so alone that you spend the night confusing a woman in a coma?"
As Sara continues to pour her heart out, she misses the man standing just outside the windowed wall watching her, listening, head filled with thoughts and memories, before walking back from where he came.
.
The sun rises over Central City hours later, and Sara wakes up to an announcement over the intercom, her face buried in her father's coat, resting atop the bar on the side of Lisa's bed. She shakes herself of dreams and nightmares, moving to check the watch on her left wrist. It's just half-past-six.
Realizing Lisa's family will probably return soon, she gathers herself to go home to her lonely bed and irritable cat. She whispers a sweet goodbye to Lisa and finds that with this family, Sara will rarely get what she desires.
"Sara!" Ray says, arms already extended toward her. "We didn't know you were here!"
He wraps her in a tight, unwelcome hug.
"Were you here all night?" Mick grunts.
"Yeah."
"You're like me," Ray says with a somehow wider smile. "I could sleep anywhere."
Martin leans in, says, "And believe me, he has," and walks away with Ray to greet Lisa.
"Go Ray," Jax says with a smile, following the other two men.
"So how's Lisa?" Amaya asks.
"Well, she's got more color," Sara tries.
"She has some color," Ray repeats. "Looks like she has some color."
"Yes, well," Sara starts, already stepping toward the exit, "I have to go. It was great seeing you all again."
"Why don't you tell her?" Amaya asks Mick, tugging on his sweater sleeve. "Go tell her."
Mick follows her to the exit, looking at the floor.
"We didn't get to celebrate Christmas," he rasps, voice softer than Sara had yet to hear. "So, it would be nice if you could join us."
Amaya nods from behind him.
"I would love to," Sara says slowly, "but I can't."
"Leonard's going to be there!" Ray says loudly.
"That's right, you haven't met Leonard yet," Martin supplies.
"He'll be so happy to meet you," Amaya says. Sara notices that she says it to Mick, though, instead of Sara, as Mick writes something on a scrap of paper that he pulled from his jacket.
"So you'll come tonight?" Mick asks, as if he didn't hear a word.
"I really shouldn't," Sara tries, "I have to work."
Mick hands her the paper and pen, then says, "Put your number and address there. Amaya or Ray will call and talk you into it."
"Alright," Sara says, shaking her head and writing.
She puts down the address to the building but leaves out her apartment number. Mick takes the scrap of paper before handing her a business card.
"That's for when you change your mind," Mick grumbles. "We're in the estate-furniture business. We buy furniture from dead people."
"Um, okay," Sara says, reading the card before tucking it into her pocket. "Well, I have it, so… bye."
Sara walks out of the room to a chorus of goodbyes, walking quickly toward the elevator. As she presses the button, an orderly appears at her side, box in hand.
"What is this?" she asks.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Snart, these are your wife's things."
"She's not my wife!" Sara says harshly to no one in particular.
"I'm sorry," the order says with judgmental eyes. "Um, your fiancee."
Sara takes the box with a blank face, ignoring the open elevator and the person who just stepped out of it. She stares at the hallway in front of her, mind blank but heart racing.
"You're Lisa's fiancee?" The woman who just stepped out of the elevator asks.
"Okay," Sara says with a sigh, noticing how heavy the box in her arms is.
"I'm Iris, a colleague of Lisa's at the paper."
"I have to go now," Sara responds, but the elevator doors shut in front of her.
"She's a great girl," Iris continues, "but she's had a tough go of it lately. What with the accident last month and all."
"Accident?" Sara asks, side stepping someone who moves to press the down button that is already lit up.
"Did she tell you it wasn't an accident?" Iris's voice raises an octave. "It was an accident. I carry a pencil; I'm a reporter."
"Okay," Sara says more calmly. "I actually just didn't hear about it at all."
Sara curses her own mouth as Iris dives into the story, and in the midst of it, Sara misses another elevator.
.
Later in the day, back at the red Vietnamese food truck, Sara complains to Thea.
"What's the big deal? Thea, they think I'm their future whatever-in-law. And Martin's got this heart thing. If I tell the truth, he'll have a heart attack, and he'll die, and it's going to be on my head."
"Then go along with it," Thea says with a shrug. "And when Lisa comes out of the coma, they'll be so happy that they won't care that you lied. Maybe they'll even thank you."
"And what if she doesn't come out of the coma?"
"Then who's to know."
Sara simply groans in response.
"Sara, look, remember when I told my mom I was moving in with Roy? I thought she was going to explode, and she didn't have heart problems. If you tell them now, you may as well shoot Martin."
"Oh my God."
Thea takes a celebratory bight of her bahn mi like she just gave Sara solid advice.
.
Back at her apartment, after learning Thea has actually taken her next few shifts — you're the subway hero — Sara eats a measly TV dinner. She pours some milk in her cat's bowl, and turns on the TV so it can play a cartoon she won't watch.
"Come on Drake, psst," Sara calls.
In the refrigerator next to her, Sara can see Mick's business card sharing a magnet with a Christmas card Laurel made their father when they were kids. She thinks about his offer of Christmas tonight, Sara's first Christmas with a family in years, before dunking an oreo into Drake's bowl of milk.
And then when Sara realizes where she just dipped her oreo, she decides she shouldn't be left alone any longer.
.
Sara exits her taxi in front of a small, two-story home in the more residential neighborhood of Central City. She carries a bouquet of poinsettias that she picked up a couple of blocks from her apartment. Even though the home is modest, as Sara stands on the sidewalk facing it, she feels smaller than she has in a long time. She feels like going back home to oreos and cat hair.
"Sara!" Martin yells, walking up, drowning in a big gray coat and black winter hat.
"Hi, Martin, hi."
"You made it! How do you feel?"
"Okay," Sara nods to the sidewalk, "okay."
"Come on, keep me company for a while." Martin pulls a pipe out of his jacket pocket. "I don't like to smoke in the house."
Martin leads her to the porch steps, patting just beside him after he sits down. Sara props the poinsettias on her knees. Their breaths come out in small puffs of white air as Martin lights his pipe and Sara tries to find a topic of conversation.
"Sorry, this doesn't bother you, does it?"
"No, no," she waves him off, "I'm fine."
Martin takes a few puffs before turning to Sara and asking, "Did you know that I'm Lisa's pseudo-god father?"
"Pseudo?"
"Lisa was practically an adult when I met her and Leonard and Mick. Plus, Jax is the only one of us that's Catholic."
Martin smiles toward the street like he's remembering something funny or lovely or wonderful. Sara watches his face light up, his cheeks rising with his smile, pushing up his glasses ever so slightly. It's remarkable how much a person's face can change with nothing but a smile.
"You know," he turns back to her, "being a godfather is very important to Catholics. It means you're part of the family."
"Well, you're lucky," Sara says honestly, stuttering over her words. "It's really important to have family around this time of year."
Martin's brows furrow. "Are you, uh… are your parents with you?"
"No, no," Sara looks to her hands. "My mom died when I was really young. And a couple of years ago I lost my dad and sister. It was actually just under a year after we moved here. Laurel got into Central City University for grad school, so my dad got a job on the police force. And I just… followed."
"Accident?"
"Car accident." Sara says shortly. "I quit the community college and started working for the CCTA not long after."
"My wife of over forty years passed away two years ago, February the 9th," Martin says matter-of-factly. "Yeah, it was a rough time for me. But, Ray and Jax and everyone here got me through it."
"You're family," Sara states. "Friends."
"The best," Martin smiles. "Sara, the people in that house, well, they took me in. I'd never let anyone hurt them."
Sara nods. "Neither would I."
"I believe you wouldn't," Martin nods in return.
The door opens behind them, and Amaya calls, "Sara! You came!"
She rushes onto the porch in a beautiful silk blouse and jeans, leaning down to hug them both. "Martin! Oh, this is great! Please, you two, get in out of the cold. Ray made his eggnog!"
"Word for the wise, drink something else," Martin mumbles as he helps Sara up.
As she turns to the front door, Ray and Jax come running out. They're laughing and smiling and they remind Sara of innocence and happiness. Ray tugs Sara into a tight hug as Amaya takes the poinsettias from her hands, and everyone is talking at once, saying hello, and We have a feast!, and We're so glad you came! Sara lets herself get swept into the house that smells of dinner and cookies and peppermint candy, listening to the joy all around, letting herself believe, just for a second, that she belongs.
.
After taking family photos, listening to classical music, laughing with a beautiful family, and making the mistake of drinking Ray's eggnog, Sara gets coerced into staying the night on the long, leather sofa. With her head resting on a less-than-comfortable accent pillow, Sara can see the stocking they hung with her name on it above the decorative fireplace. She even opened a present last night — From Santa, Amaya whispered in her ear.
Sara wakes up to the sound of a key in the front door, and she listens to it open just on the otherside of the archway that leads into the living room. Whoever enters the house shuts the door gently behind them, keys jingling in their hands as they walk toward the kitchen.
"Yo, Leonard," Jax does not whisper from the stairs.
"Jax, my man," Leonard responds.
Sara hears a smack and assumes it's some type of "manly" handshake.
"How's—"
"Sh," Jax interrupts Leonard. "Don't wake Sara."
"Who's Sara?" Leonard whispers.
"Sara is Lisa's fiancee."
"No, that's not Lisa's fiancee," Leonard says, no longer whispering.
Sara's eyes open immediately, but luckily she, at some point, turned to face the back of the couch. Of course somebody in this family would know the truth. And they said Leonard is Lisa's brother — Sara couldn't tell if that meant on a family tree or in the pseudo-sense, like Martin's godfather status. But if they grew up together, Leonard has to know whether or not Lisa is engaged. And to whom.
"You haven't met her?" Jax asks.
"No."
"Well, she's great. I think you'll really like her."
"You know, kid?" Leonard starts, voice fading slightly. "I just came by to drop off Mick's car, but I'm gonna stay the night."
"Just don't eat my cereal in the morning," Jax warns. "Last time you took the toy surprise."
Sara listens as two sets of steps begin their ascent up the stairs. It's a while until she can fall back asleep.