Thea had to, last minute, drop one of the shifts she took for Sara, and after the hospital, Sara took it gratefully. Working for the CCTA may not be the most glamorous job in the world, but it gives Sara a sense of calm to sit down at the station and go through the monotony of taking a token and unlocking the turnstile.
Sure, every once in a while she jumps onto the track to save the probable woman of her dreams and then lies to said woman's family about being engaged to the woman, but that's neither here nor there.
After a long shift, Sara enters her apartment, and it's not even three seconds before someone is knocking on her door.
Face pressed against the entry closet as Sara thinks about her life choices, she asks, "Who is it?"
"What gives?" Thea yells from the other side of the door.
Sara opens said door begrudgingly and is surprised to find both Thea and Oliver standing on her welcome mat. It was always Laurel's goal to buy a big welcome mat for her two-story family home. Goal, she would say, not dream. Sara's tiny one will have to do for now.
"I need an update on your fake-family situation, now," Thea demands as she brushes past Sara to go collapse on the latter's couch.
Sara simply looks at Oliver with a blank face.
"Thea filled me in," he explains, "and honestly, I'm intrigued."
"Whatever," Sara says with a shake of her head.
She gestures for Oliver to follow her to the couch where he sits next to Thea. Sara pulls a chair from her tiny table and sits down across from them. Just as she's about to tell them all about Leonard, there's a knock at the door.
"Who is it?"
"Sara, it's Martin."
"Oh my god," Sara whispers, jumping from her seat. "Just a minute!"
After Leonard's mistrust today, Sara does not want to deal with Martin seeing Thea in her apartment. Grabbing the girl by the hand, Sara leads Thea to the closet next to her bed and pushes the girl inside.
"I barely fit! Why doesn't Ollie have to hide?"
"Ollie didn't tell my fake fiancee's brother that we're dating!"
Sara slams the closet door. Oliver, for his part, rises to his feet and heads for the door, opening it for Sara.
"Alright," Oliver says, putting on a smile, "I'll get back in here tomorrow to fix the stove."
He nods his head at Martin as Martin steps aside and lets Oliver pass.
"Welcome," Sara nods, gesturing for Martin to step inside. "Do want some coffee or tea or something?"
"No, no," Martin takes his hat off and holds it with both hands. "Sara, there's something you should know."
Sara, jacket still on, thinking about how she never used to lack for moments of peace, sticks her hands in her pockets and asks, simply, "What?"
"Well, the night you visited Lisa, I was outside the door. I know the truth."
Sara looks at the ground, blinking, unsure how to respond. There's a small amount of relief in her chest, but the rest of her body is filled with dread. She leads Martin towards the sofa and takes a seat.
"I'm sorry," she starts. "Listen, you don't have to worry. I'll tell them everything."
"No, don't tell them a thing," Martin says quickly, taking a seat beside Sara. "Remember when you said you'd never do anything to hurt the family? Well, since you came along, they feel like they have Lisa back. If you tell them the truth, you'll take her away again. They need you, Sara; just like you need them."
Sara looks up from her hands and smiles at Martin with watery eyes.
"Now, look, I know you're a good person —" he grabs her hands. "I know you'll do the right thing."
"I don't know."
"Yes. Yes, you will."
Martin gets up, goodbyes unnecessary, and heads for the door, Sara just behind him. She closes it softly, leaning her head against the warm-colored wood. And then Thea falls in the closet.
Sara rushes over and slams open the door.
"What are you doing?"
Thea is on the floor, a pile of broken, plastic hangers around her with a silly smile on her face.
"I slipped." She shrugs, laughing.
There's another knock on her door.
"Who is it!"
Sara closes the door on Thea once more and runs to her door.
"It's Leonard," the voice on the other side drawls.
Close to screaming and still in her jacket, Sara mumbles, "Doesn't anyone use a phone anymore?" And yet, she finds herself adjusting her hair and loosening her limbs before she opens the door.
"More questions?" she asks.
"No, I have an engagement present for you."
"You really shouldn't have."
"I didn't," Leonard says with a bit too much snark. "It's from Amaya and Mick. It's furniture. Do you want me to bring it up?"
Sara tries to think about what it could possibly be and if it can fit in her apartment.
Then, Leonard asks, "Hey, was that Martin leaving?" as Sara hears another thud from the back closet.
"Cat," Sara explains before Leonard can ask.
"Big cat?"
"I think you should bring it to Lisa's apartment."
"You don't know what it is."
"Well, you know," Sara tries to laugh, "anything would look nicer in Lisa's apartment."
A few more thuds find their way to Sara's ears.
"You know what?" She tells Leonard. "I'll come with you."
.
Leonard expertly parallel parks a large box truck that reads Mick & Family Estate Furniture. Below is a phone number. The truck is a special kind of off-white that Sara has come to loathe from apartment living, and the letters are a brown that reminds Sara of dirt.
She follows Leonard to the back of the truck, where he asks, "Ready for your surprise?"
He lifts the garage-like door with a flourish, revealing a ton of furniture. At the front is a beautiful rocking chair made of dark wood.
"Oh, that is so beautiful," Sara says, taking a step forward for she can feel the wood beneath her fingertips.
Leonard helps her onto the truck. Sara leans down to take a closer look at the chair.
"You like it?" he asks.
"It's amazing."
"Too bad," Leonard intones, "Mick picked out the loveseat."
Sara turns around to find Leonard pointing at a small fabric sofa covered in floral fabric. It looks like something you'd find in your grandmother's apartment, and, honestly, having spent time with Mick, Sara can see him looking at this and thinking, huh, women.
"I'm sorry," Sara says. Mostly because she can't think of anything else.
"Don't be. I made this."
Leonard points to the rocking chair.
"This? No, you didn't."
"Shocking, isn't it?" he drawls.
"Can I sit in it?" Sara asks.
"Rock out."
Sara carefully takes a seat, noticing that a bungee cord is keeping the chair attached to the truck. She settles into the wood, laying her hands on the armrests and letting her head fall back.
"This is perfect," she comments. "You should go into business or something."
"I guess it's a good thing I already did."
After moments of Sara rocking in the chair and complimenting Leonard and almost getting him to blush, they work together to unload the couch and wheel it to the front door of Lisa's building.
Leonard stops as they near. "Let's take a second and unlock the doors —" he starts.
Sara cuts him off. "No, I got it." She opens the left door with her hand and the right with her foot before leaning her butt against the right door and her hands against the left. She stretches between them, body forming half an archway that is definitely not enough room for the sofa to fit beneath. "See?" she asks. "Here we go."
"Oh, this technique?" Leonard drawls, a smile playing on his lips. "It's always a very —" Leonard begins trying to wheel the couch beneath Sara. "A very modern technique."
Sara has to wriggle around to make it work, but once the couch is in enough for it to stop the doors on its own, she lets go and moves to pull the couch in. Before Leonard can follow after her, a doorman runs up.
"Excuse— Excuse me, what apartment?"
"9G."
"Well, I'm sorry, sir, but guests have to be announced."
Leonard watches through the window as Sara continues to move the sofa, spinning it on the wheels of the tiny dolly, a mix of determination and joy evident on her face, like a kid playing with a shiny new toy that comes with a lot of instructions.
"I'm with her," Leonard points inside, "I'm helping her."
Sara stands up straight and awkwardly waves before going back to the task at hand.
"So?" The doorman asks with a shrug.
"You don't know her?"
"No, but I'm new here."
"Well, she's Lisa Snart's fiancee in 9G."
The doorman covers his mouth with his hands, shocked. "They told me about Lisa's fiancee. They're very kind, apparently. Different from a lot of our tenants."
.
After shoving the sofa through Lisa's doorway, randomly placing it in the middle of her living room, and stealing a carton of ice cream from her freezer, Leonard and Sara end up back on the sidewalk, looking at Leonard's obviously blocked-in truck.
"Check the meter," Leonard instructs, voice drenched in frustration.
Still sexy, Sara thinks, before shaking her head.
"It's late," she says instead. "They can stay all night if they want to."
Leonard groans.
"Um, good night," Sara says, preparing to walk home in the cold.
"You're just going to leave me here?" Leonard drawls.
"Pretty much."
"Well, maybe I ought to walk you back."
Is that a hint of flirtation in his voice? No, it can't be.
"For what?" Sara asks.
"For protection." Leonard, in all his tall glory, leaning against the truck like a model during a shoot, looks at her through his lashes. They stare at each other for a moment, blue on blue, different shades but the same at their cores. Sara knows the feeling in the pit of her stomach all too well.
"Oh," Sara stammers, "oh, no. I'm fine. I'm okay."
"For me," Leonard recovers, "I don't want to be here alone. This is Central City."
Sara just smiles and gestures for him to follow.
.
They're silent until they reach the bridge that connects Lisa's clean downtown utopia with Sara's neighborhood which usually has sidewalks covered in litter and buildings sporting beautiful art the city calls graffiti.
"You look cold," Leonard says.
"Probably because I am cold."
"You need a better coat."
Sara laughs. "This is my dad's."
"Then he's probably freezing."
"He passed away," Sara responds. She says it very matter-of-factly, like Martin the other night. She says it like it doesn't hurt. And right now, it doesn't.
"Sorry," Leonard says curtly.
"It's not your fault," she says kindly, "he and my sister died almost six years ago. Car accident. And I don't really remember my mom, so…"
"Well, what were your dad and sister like?"
"They couldn't be more different. My dad took us on all these trips when we were young, but as soon as Laurel was old enough, she picked a city and settled down. Here, actually. After undergrad, she told us she was staying for grad school, and my dad realized maybe he should settle down, too. I think she taught him a lot more than he taught her."
They pass a couple feverishly making out against the fence. Leonard immediately looks away, but Sara's glance lingers for a few moments. Before she imagines her and Lisa doing the same, Leonard flashes through her mind.
"What do you remember most about your dad?" he asks, distracting her.
"He used to hear of a place on the TV and tell us to find it in the atlas. We would sit with him for hours routing out the best way to get there. It was weirdly practical for him." Sara stops for a second, staring straight ahead, remembering moments fondly. They don't hurt, either. "Obviously, Laurel was always the best at it."
"If there was one place in the world you could go…"
Sara doesn't even let him finish the question. "Vietnam."
"Wow, you were ready for that one. I take it you haven't been there."
"Well, the train doesn't exactly…" Sara shakes her head with a smile. "Oh! But I do have —" She rifles through her bag before pulling out her passport and waving it in Leonard's face.
Leonard laughs. "You always have it… with you?"
"Well, just in case I need to quickly leave the country," Sara jokes.
"It's perfect. It's great." Leonard opens it and turns a few pages. "There aren't any stamps."
Sara swipes the booklet back quickly. "Well, I haven't gone anywhere yet, but I'm planning to backpack through Vietnam very soon."
"That'll make your dad very proud," Leonard says with a nod.
"You know," Sara starts hesitantly, "in a very small way, you kind of remind me of him a little bit."
Leonard doesn't respond to that, but he does continue to walk beside her. She thinks she sees a flash of a smile, but his face reverts to the usual casual indifference it sports before she can make sure.