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Chapter Text

[Redacted], Late September, 2020

“Where is she!? Sabina! Sabina!!” Elena’s voice is ragged, desperation sinking in full force. The air’s heavy with smoke and her lungs burn, eye stinging as she stares into the burning warehouse. 

“Elena, we need to go. Elena. Elena. Elena.” Jane calls her name desperately as she restrains her, dragging her up from the cold asphalt that tears into her knees. If she thinks too hard about it, she can feel each individual stone, embedding their way into her skin that’s already marred with bruises and stinging cuts. 

“We can’t, we can’t.” Elena shudders out a breath, wrenching her arm out of Jane’s grip. Something warm drips down her face and her arm burns, but she can’t leave, can’t turn away. “We can’t leave her. Please, Jane. Please.” 

Jane pulls her away, arms locked around her shoulders, and Elena can feel her chest heave as she all but falls into her. Bosley’s there, not even attempting to hide the fear on her face, as they stare into the flames together. 

The roof caves in, sending a shower of sparks and ashes into the air. 

Elena caves it with it. She dissolves, screams, falls.

She never stops falling. 

-- 

New York, February 3, 2021

His hands look soft, not even a single callous, and Elena can tell he keeps a regimented skin care routine. Most likely something from his girlfriend’s line. Judging from Elena’s research, she’s an influencer on Instagram who just hit 60k followers and her products are made in a sweatshop in South Asia, not her basement. 

Elena hasn’t had any type of social media account in years. 

Lefthanded, but he holds his fork loosely in his right. If Elena had to guess, his nervous tic would be rearranging his hair, judging from the messy curls and faint sweat stains ringing his shirt collar. She wonders what girl he’s going to see next. 

The check is placed upside down on the table and Elena sets down her spoon, bowl of soup cold and unfinished in front of her. The tomato spatters have started to dry on the side, reddish crusts forming on the otherwise white ceramic and bread crumbs litter the table. 

She excuses herself to the bathroom, slips out the unlocked window of the third stall, and heads to the van a few blocks down. She doesn’t need to wait, she knows it’ll be all over the news tomorrow; Local Philanthropist Dies in Tragic Restaurant Explosion: Gas Leak to Blame. 

She wonders if they’ll include the parts about the million dollars of money he embezzled, the fact that he built his condos on historic native land, and the numbers of at least ten other women hidden on his phone. They never do. 

The drive back is quiet and by the time they get back to the safehouse, she’s already changed into a sweater and jeans, silky fabric of the dress balled up on the floor of the van. She’ll put it back in the closet, eventually. Or Saint will. 

Jane’s waiting for her in the garage, arms crossed, with her signature eyebrow furrow, and something else Elena can’t quite place on shifting across her face like an overflowing stream. 

Elena is already imagining the warm shower and nap she’ll take, but she manages a soft smile for Jane, always. “You’re back early. Miss me that much?” 

“Did you see my call?” 

“No, why?” She digs her phone out of her pocket, swiping through the screen. The overhead lights buzz above them, dowsing them in a harsh, yellow glare. 

Jane. K: 2 Missed Calls

Jane. K: 1 Voicemail

Bosley : 1 Missed Call and 3 Messages

“....Jane?”

Jane reaches for her hand, and only then can Elena tell she’s been crying, cheeks flushed and eyes rimmed red, when she steps out of the shadows. “Elena...they found her. They found Sabina.” 

-- 

California, February 10, 2021

She doesn’t get why they have to wait so long. It’s been seven days since they found her, and she’s spent all of them pacing around the safehouse, counting down the hours until they can see her. 

They were supposed to go two days ago. But Jane’s phone had chimed the night before and Elena had climbed across the bed to read the incoming text message from Saint, leaning into Jane’s chest. It looked long and her heart sank. 

E & J- Need to reschedule your visit tomorrow. I think we need to give her a few more days to adjust. Still refusing medications and very anxious. Bosley’s been in and out, so she can tell you more. A lot to work through, but the doctors are doing their best. I’ll keep you updated. Peace. 

It’s not fair. But then again, none of it has been. 

Jane’s been running mile after mile and Bosley’s throwing herself into making preparations for whatever happens next. Elena’s just been staying up late, making halfhearted attempts to finish reports, and trying not to let her thoughts swirl so loudly around in her head.

The what-ifs hang over their heads, along with unspoken worries that morph into quiet glances and stares that drift far off into the distance.

The next text came early in the morning, waking them both up as they reached for their phones, the sun barely peeking through the blinds. 

You should come now. Let me know when you get this. 

-- 

It’s a 15 minute drive to the hospital and Elena can’t stop thinking.  

She wonders if Jane can hear her thoughts, because she rubs her thumb reassuringly across her wrist. Her eyes are the only give-away, a little wider and more steeled than normal. 

Jane’s hand is warm in hers, and Elena’s is already shaking, enough that she wants to shove it back into her pocket. She knows Jane won’t let her though, because she’ll just pick at the dry skin on her fingers till it bleeds. The cuffs on her shirts are stained with little flecks of rusted red, almost invisible unless you looked hard enough. 

They’ve been debriefed, sat down, and then explained to again. Broken ribs, sprained wrist, scrapes and bruises, and a lingering cough that would need to be monitored.

Elena had watched Bosley’s eyes turn dark with the next sentence. She’d need withdrawal, because of the drugs they suspect she’d been on. A mix of a few things. It would be hard, but she’d been with Sabina the first time she went through it, and they both made it out okay. 

“I...I can’t make any promises, though,” Bosley had added, eyes apologetic.

Jane had walked out quietly after that, but Elena stayed long enough to hear sedation , never the same , and the unspoken, silent sadness that filled the room after the words stopped coming.

-- 

“She’s not herself.” 

“We know,” Jane says, shifting a glance over to Elena, who’s absentmindedly tracing the outline of her wings. 

“They got her to take some meds this morning, so she’s been doing a little better.” 

“That’s good,” Elena says, because what else can she say. What else should she say?

They take a deep breath together, and for a second, just a split second, because she always fucking forgets, Elena waits for Sabina’s hand on hers, so they can start their pre-mission handshake. 

She grabs Jane’s hand tighter instead, enough to feel her pulse underneath her thumb, to know that at least one of them is alive.

Bosley opens the door and when Elena’s eyes adjust to the fluorescent lighting, she looks up and-- shit. 

-- 

London, January 21, 2020

“Is that her?” Elena asks tentatively, pulling her hair back into a ponytail as sweat still clings to the back of her neck.  

Bosley nods. “We think so.” 

They’re hovered around the computer screen, gear from the mission they just returned from strewn across the room. They’re still wearing their combat gear and their boots sound heavy against the wooden floorboards. Elena squints at the screen, a grainy image of a convenience store where two figures stand around the register. 

One of them looks pointedly towards the camera and only when they step forward can Elena tell it’s Sabina. Her hair’s been shaved down to a buzz cut and there’s a smattering of bruise across her chest, so thin that Elena can see her collarbones jutting out. 

“How can you tell?” Jane asks, leaning in closer with her hand warm on Elena’s back. They know it’s her. They know it. But still. 

Bosley pauses the video, fingers brushing across the screen. “Tattoos.” She zooms in and they see them, the eye on her arm that peeks out from her ragged jacket sleeve and the Angel wings on her neck. 

Elena has to put her hand over her mouth so she doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry. 

The video ends, the screen goes black.

-- 

[Redacted] Medical Center, February 10, 2021

Her hair’s longer, tangled brown waves just reaching her shoulders. She turns to look at them, green eyes dull, face drawn with a light sheen of sweat on it, and she looks, god, she looks dead. Alive, but not living.  

Elena’s lightheaded, ears ringing. Bosley’s saying something, but the only thing she can hear is Sabina saying her name. 

“Elena. Jane.”

Her voice is the same, just raspy and worn out, and it’s like it unlocks a part of Elena’s brain she had forgotten about. 

She takes a halting step forward, and Jane’s grip is tightening around her arm and Bosley’s telling her to wait, but Sabina’s reaching out for her. Reaching. And her hands, her fucking hands are pulling her in, her fingers clinging to the fabric of Elena’s coat. 

Jane leans in, too, and she’s wrapped in hands, fingers grasping on to whatever they have left. They’re holding on tight, almost too tight, but Sabina clings just as hard. 

Elena can feel Jane exhale, a sigh of relief warm on the back of her neck. It doesn’t last long, whatever warmth Elena got from it diminished when Sabina cries, softly, like she’s holding it all back and it’s choking her at the same time. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m--” Her nails are digging into Elena’s arms. 

Elena can feel Jane tense up, but her voice is steady as she attempts to calm Sabina down. “It’s alright, it’s alright, love.” 

Sabina just cries harder. 

-- 

Elena’s jumped out of a plane, killed quite a few people, and joined a top secret lady spy organization. 

But she can’t handle this.

All of the excitement and relief she had before is fading, replaced with fear. She’s scared, terrified about what comes next. 

It’s been two days since they first saw her and Elena’s quickly realized that things are different. Sabina’s hidden, underneath layers of who knows what. She’s quiet, too quiet, and Elena hasn’t seen her smile even once. She’s numb.

It’s not fair. 

Saint and Boz have tried to get her to take more pain meds, but she’s refused everytime. It took Jane and Elena both begging her until she finally took half a dose, after spending two hours with silent tears coursing down her cheeks and the bright white sheets clenched tightly beneath her hands. 

Jane’s looked it up, blue on her phone screen illuminating her face in the middle of the night, as she tells Elena all about the symptoms of withdrawal. So Elena knows, when Sabrina’s shaky and sweating and clenching Elena’s hand so tight she loses circulation in her fingers, that it’s the drugs finding their way out.

It’s the drugs that make Sabina restless in the middle of the night, alternating between breathless cries and pleads that go in vain, to silence, with both of them sitting there helpless as Sabina refuses their touch. Elena knows it’s not personal, but still. 

They’re quiet most of the time, either Elena or Jane trying too hard to get a conversation going. Saint cycles in and out, with cups of steaming tea and plates of food that go untouched. Bosley comes, on a good day, and Elena watches Jane bite back her jealousy as Sabina lets Boz hug her. It’s hard, for all of them

They watch a lot of TV, just mindless shows that have no plot, no direction. Elena feels like she’s trapped in one of those shows, just waiting for a commercial break.

Jane had left to get them coffee and Sabina woke up from her nap before Jane got back, which led to her sobbing, heart wrenching cries that Elena knew just had to kill her ribs. Jane came back to find Sabina asleep, dried tears on her cheeks, and Elena close to tears herself. 

“It’s not fair,” she whispers to Jane late at night, when they’re both curled up on the smallest couch and trying to squeeze in a few minutes of sleep in between the nurses’ checks.

Jane takes a breath before she answers, hand coming up to stroke Elena’s hair. “I know, love. I know.” 

-- 

Sabina comes home a few days later, much to Elena and Jane’s protests. 

“Boz, this isn’t a good idea. Have you even—“ Jane trails off in frustration, arms crossed. They’re standing outside Sabina’s room as she naps, worried that she’ll wake up and there’ll be no one there. 

Elena knows she’s thinking about the fact that Sabina can barely walk the seven feet to the bathroom. About how it took Jane ten minutes to calm her down yesterday, which led to Sabina eventually shifting away from her touch with an apologetic, soft “sorry” as she turned away, burrowing back into her sheets. 

Elena knows she’s thinking about the fact that even if Sabina’s ready, maybe they’re not. 

Boz knows it too. “Elena, Jane, I know it’s...a lot. But they’ve cleared her to leave and it’s not like she’s going back to nothing. Saint and I will be there.” She grabs their hands, and for a moment, Elena can tell how much this is draining her, how tiring and hard it is for all of them. “We’ll be okay.” 

She lets herself believe it, just for a second.

Chapter Text

Sabina sleeps a lot the first few days after she gets back. Not that Jane would know. 

Their main safehouse in California is big--large enough that there’s multiple wings and more than enough bedrooms. Saint and Boz have got Sabina all set up in her own room, right down the hall from theirs. 

Jane and Elena, with much convincing, are still in their old bedroom. Their bed’s felt empty for a long time, too long, but Jane really feels it now knowing that Sabina could be there. 

“It’s just for a little, so she, and all of us, can adjust. Okay?” Boz explains, glasses slipping down her nose. Her blue cardigan is wrinkled and she’s holding what Jane knows to be her third cup of coffee for the day.  

“Ok,” Elena answers before Jane can open her mouth to argue. Bos nods, satisfied, and promises she’ll text them hourly updates. 

Then she’s gone and Jane turns to Elena, shuffling around on her stool, countertop digging into her legs. Their leftover lunch sits in front of them; half-eaten sandwiches going soggy, dismantled on their plates. “Elena, what? No. She needs to be with us.” 

“Jane.” Elena brings up her hand, fingers pushing Jane’s hair out of her face. “Do you trust Boz? Let’s just give it some time; it’ll just be a few days.” 

“We’ve waited--I just...want her back.” 

“I know. But…” Elena trails off, but Jane knows what she would have said. 

It’s what scares Jane the most. The idea that she’ll never come all the way back to them.

-- 

“I’m not eating that.” Sabina pushes her full bowl of oatmeal back towards Jane and crosses her arms across her chest. Milk sloshes over the sides, tiny white droplets falling onto the table, darkening the wood. Her voice is flat, face stoney.

“Sab. You need to eat something.” Elena watches as Jana stands firm, face calm but eyes full of concern. This isn’t the first meal she’s refused. 

“I said I’m not eating that!” Her voice is tight, sharp now and Elena jumps when her chair clatters to the ground. Sabina’s already halfway down the hallway, footsteps echoing off the wooden floorboards. 

A door slams in the distance and Elena looks up at Jane, disappointment visibility seeping through her. “I got it.” 

“Wait,” Jane reaches out for her hand before she leaves, pulling her in close. Jane’s not big into physical contact, so Elena takes what she can get. “Take a breath. We’re alright. She’ll be alright.” 

Elena makes her way to Sabina’s room, knocking softly on the door. “Bina? Can I come in?” 

“Fine.” Sabina’s curled up on her bed, shades drawn. Her hoodie is pulled tight around her face and Elena knows it’s the same blue one she’s been wearing since she got home. It’s an old one of Jane’s. They’d kept all of her old clothes, but Sabina refused to wear any of them.  

Elena takes a step through the doorway, but stops there, not wanting to aggravate her anymore. She feels small, toeing the line. “Can we make you something else for breakfast? Cereal? Eggs?”

“Not hungry.” 

“Toast or fruit?” Elena counters, not ready to give in this early in the day. It’s only half past nine. 

Sabina sighs, sounding more tired than frustrated at this point. “Fruit. Can you cut it up?” 

“Of course,” Elena has to bite her lip before a soft “babe” or “love” sneaks out. Only Jane can get away with that now, for some reason Elena has yet to figure out. She waits a few seconds more, then turns to leave, hand on the doorknob. 

“It’s all they gave me,” Sabina says, so softly Elena strains to hear the last part. “If they fed me. Just really shitty oatmeal. So fucking watery. Not even a raisin or anything.” 

Elena’s silent, chest aching as Sabina huffs out a bitter laugh, one she’s never heard before. She’s like that now. Mad. Quiet. Things she never was before.  

Elena leans against the closed door, wood cool against her forehead. She finally heads down the hallway, calculating out how quickly she can get rid of any and all oatmeal they have. 

-- 

February 23rd, 2021. 10:07 AM

RB: She just got up. Saint’s trying to convince her to shower today. 

JK: Let us know if there’s anything we can do. 

Elena Haughlin “Liked” Your Message 

3:23 PM

S: Ate half a sandwich for lunch. EJ- think nature documentaries would be good tonight. 

February 25th, 12:16 PM

EH : In living room. Can someone bring pain meds. Yellow round ones. Thxs. 

February 27th, 9:08 AM

RB : S is napping. No breakfast yet. 

5:47 PM

S : Ribs are finally cleared. Still keep up pain medications for a few more days. EJ, please remind her she has therapy tomorrow at 11. 

-- 

It’s been a week since Sabina showered, if the halfhearted rinse down she got in the hospital counts as an actual shower. 

They try not to make it an ordeal, because it feels like most things are these days. Elena spends a half an hour cleaning out their bathroom and finding the striped towels Sabina likes the best. Jane finds Sabina in the living room and hovers expectantly in the doorway. 

“Come on, love.” 

“Jane, no.” Sabina sighs, but she’s already moving her blanket aside and standing up. Her baggy shirt slips down her shoulder, exposed collarbones reminding Jane of how thin she still is. Yellowed bruises line her shoulder blades. 

“It’ll be really quick.”

Sabina frowns, fingers twisting together. “Promise?” 

Jane pushes open the bathroom door, the scent of lemon cleaner wafting out. “Promise.” 

Sabina makes them promise a lot of things: that she can be done with dinner after one more bite, that they’ll be just down the hall, and that the medication Saint gives her will make her feel better. Jane always, always, promises back, but it’s tinged with a deep guilt. 

She’d promised to keep Sabina safe, and that was one she couldn’t keep. It keeps her up at night, consumes her in the darkness. 

Sabina lingers in the doorway, hands toying with the laces of her sweatshirt. She looks so small, draped in baggy clothing with her hair pushed out of her face. “Jane?” 

“Yes, love?” The bathroom tile is cold under Jane’s feet and she wants nothing more than to place a comforting hand on Sabina’s back. She shoves her hand into her pocket instead. 

“Will you...can you wait? Uh, outside?”  

Jane sits outside the door, listening to Sabina shuffle around in the bathroom. She’s scared to make any noise, just straining to hear Sabina keep breathing. Steam seeps out from underneath the door and she pretends not to notice Sabina’s red-rimmed eyes when it finally unlocks. “I’m proud of you,” she says quietly, while a soft “and I love you” goes unsaid, floating down the drain. 

-- 

Elena feels like she and Jane live in another world. They coexist as EJ now, just beckoned with text messages and lay awake at night, hands just as tangled together as their worries. 

They haven’t talked about it, haven’t had a full conversation yet, but they’ve been trying to hold back on some things. Elena knows when Jane is about to reach out to her from across the couch, but then goes to grab another blanket instead. 

She’s done it before, almost kissed her in the kitchen right in front of Sabina, until she realized what she was about to do and wiped a non-existent smudge off of Jane’s face instead. 

 They just don’t want to push anything. Don’t want to make anyone too uncomfortable. They were so physical as a trio, always holding onto each other and curled up into one another. Elena wonders how much longer they’ll exist as a duo, how much longer the empty space in their bed will last. It’s cold, at night, when Elena reaches out. 

-- 

Jane reaches over to grab the remote, pressing pause. “Sab?” She can hear Sabina rustle around in the kitchen, bare feet padding over the tiles. 

Sabina appears quietly in the doorway. “Yeah?”

Jane looks at Elena expectantly until she blinks, stammering. It’s late and Elena’s bathed in the blue glow of the tv screen. “Oh, we’re watching one of those nature documentaries, you know, the Netflix ones? Do you want to join?”

 “Um.” Sabina scrubs a hand across her face, raking a hand through her hair. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to if you don’t want to," Jane soothes, as Sabina takes a tentative step forward. She doesn’t respond, but curls up on the opposite end of the couch instead, nodding for them to keep watching. 

Jane doesn’t learn anymore about the ecosystem of the Amazon rainforest. Instead, she spends the rest of the episode sneaking glances at Sabina; the way she forces herself to stay awake despite her drooping eyelids and how she visibly jumps after Elena readjusts ever so slightly, looking incredibly guilty afterwards. 

The screen goes dark after the episode ends and Elena and Jane share a look. Elena clears her throat. “We’re gonna head to bed. Make sure you see Saint before you go and let us know if you need anything, okay?” 

Sabina nods, twisting the fringe of the blanket between her fingers. “‘Night.”

“Goodnight, love,” Jane says, something tearing in her chest when she walks down the hallway with Elena, leaving Sabina there all alone. 

-- 

Elena’s half awake before she even knows what’s going on. It’s late, past midnight if she had to guess. Someone’s screaming, it sounds like--

“Sabina,” Jane explains, already throwing on a sweatshirt with her hand on the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Elena’s voice is raspy with sleep and she fumbles for her phone on the nightstand. Saint’s text to them is one word: don’t. 

“No.” It’s dark, but Elena can still see Jane’s hands curling to fists of frustration as she paces, feet digging into the thin carpeting. “Fuck that. She’s hurting, Elena! We need to be there!” 

“Jane,” Elena grabs for her arm, gently pulling her back to their bed, “you know what they’ve said.” 

Jane sighs, head in hands. She looks back up at Elena, eyes watery. “I just hate it. We love her, how could we make it worse? How ?” 

Elena leans against her, intertwining their fingers together so Jane will stop digging her nails into her palm. For once, she doesn’t have an answer. 

They lay awake the rest of the night, curled into each other as Sabina’s screams turn into sobs, and then eventually fade into silence. Elena doesn’t know which one is worse. 

-- 

They’re off of the mission schedule for a few months, but that doesn’t mean that they’ve stopped training. 

Jane ducks to block a punch. “I just don’t want to get out of shape.”

“You? No way,” Elena scoffs between kicks, finally flipping Jane over so she lands with a thud onto the mats. 

“Help me up?” Jane asks from the ground, wrapping her fingers around Elena’s wrist and pulling her down with a laugh. Elena smiles and leans in close, until Jane whips her head away, jolting up. 

“Sabina?” Jane swears under her breath, they came down early and planned to get back before she woke up. “Everything okay?”

Sabina just stands there, staring, before she shakes her head. “Um, yeah, all good.”

“We’re just finishing up...” Elena explains apologetically as she trails off, not sure what to say next. 

Sabina doesn’t answer, just settles down on one of the mats that’s pushed up against the wall. “S’okay. I’ll just watch.” 

Jane’s distracted the next round-- she keeps looking over at Sabina, to make sure she's  alright; keeps watching the way she fidgets with her hands, how she shakes her leg, and looks towards the door every 10 seconds. 

Jane looks away for two minutes for their cool-down stretches and by the time she’s done, Sabina’s gone, the door in the corner slamming closed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jane ducks out of the ring, feet bare against the concrete. She takes the stairs two at a time, Elena right behind her. 

“She wasn’t supposed to---” 

“I know!” Jane snaps, knowing she’ll regret it later. She’s not mad at Elena, just mad at everything right now. They hadn’t even talked about training yet, and they weren’t sure how’d she take it. 

Sabina’s door is open, and Jane can see her sprawled out across her bed, on top of the covers. She knocks softly on the doorframe and Sabina jolts, turning her head to see them.

“What are you doing here?” Sabina asks, voice low. 

“Just checking in,” Elena says, as Sabina’s face slips into a frown. 

“I said I was fine.” 

Jane takes a step forward and crouches on the floor, scratchy carpet digging into her knees. “We know.”

“Then why are you here?” Sabina’s voice rises, an edge of frustration emerging. “I don’t need everyone to go out of their way all the fucking time.” 

“We’re your….that’s what we do, Bina.” Elena explains, settling down next to Jane. 

Sabina doesn’t say anything, and Jane thinks it’s because she’s still mad, but when she looks up, Sabina’s crying, quiet tears running down her cheeks. When she sees Jane’s noticed, she turns away, burying her head into her arms and letting out a soft sob. 

“It’s alright, love. You’re gonna be alright.” Jane soothes, wishing more than ever that she could reach out, hug her, hold her, anything but sit here helpless. 

“I’m never going to get better, I’m never--” Sabina chokes out a sob, “I’m just going to be here, just stuck here, because it’s been too long. I-I can’t do it. I can’t do anything by myself--I can’t .” 

“Yes, you can. You already have been, “ Elena says. 

“You’re just going to get sick of me,” Sabina argues, still crying. “And Boz is gonna hate me.”

“She could never,” Jane shakes her head. “Don’t think like that. Can I--can I hold your hand?” 

Sabina just cries harder and Jane cringes, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Now she feels like the world’s biggest piece of shit. Elena shoots her a sympathetic look, and they sit in silence for a few moments, just listening to Sabina sniffle into her pillow. 

“Do you want us to leave?” Elena asks and Sabina shakes her head, much to their surprise. She’s gotten shaky with communicating again, not used to having people listen to her when she says yes or no. 

Sabina lifts her head up slightly to look at Jane and grabs her wrist, releasing a shaky breath. Jane’s eyes burn, but she refuses to cry. 

It’s progress.

Chapter Text

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” Sabina says, balancing an armful of blankets while she stands in the doorway. 

“You're what?” Elena looks up from her book, while Jane’s already halfway out of bed. 

Boz pokes her head into their room, handing Jane a pillow. “Sabina, why don’t you get set up and I’m going to borrow these two for a second, okay?” 

Sabina just nods, a soft " okay " coming a few seconds later. Elena knows she’s trying. 

Elena follows Jane out into the hallway, pushing her glasses on top of her head. She can tell Jane’s about to say something, but Bosley beats her to it, holding her hands out in front of her to stop Jane’s inevitable argument. 

“Look, I know this is unexpected, to say the least. But, we talked about it before and all agreed that we’d do it on her time. She said she wanted to try tonight.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, though?” Jane shifts restlessly next to her and Elena knows she’s itching to check on Sabina. 

Bos wraps her cardigan around herself tighter. “Well, I’m not sure to be completely honest. But, you know we’re just down the hall and she’s already taken all of her meds for the night, so she should be pretty calmed down.”

Elena looks over at Jane, but doesn’t say anything. It’s silent in the hallway for a few moments, just the distant sound of Sabina shuffling around in their bedroom. 

“If you’re not comfortable with it, we don’t have to do it tonight,” Boz starts, but Jane shakes her head. 

“We’ll be alright. I’ll text you if we need anything.”

And that’s that. They say a quick goodnight to Boz and head back inside. 

Sabina is perched on the edge of their bed, thumbing through one of Elena’s books. She startles slightly when they walk in, immediately returning it to the nightstand. 

“You can keep looking at it, Bina. It’s fine,” Elena says, padding over to turn on one of their many lamps. She rearranges random hangers in her closet, trying to stall before Jane gets back from brushing her teeth.   

Jane switches off the light and they’re left standing there, waiting for someone to make a move. Thankfully, Sabina moves to her regular spot in the middle, seemingly oblivious to the rising tension between Elena and Jane, who settle in on the edges. 

Jane, prepared as always, pulls out her laptop, and has another nature documentary cued up. “It’s about birds in the desert. Sound good?” 

Sabina nods, pulling the blanket closer around herself. There's a thick scar on the back of her hand, white and raised, that Elena hasn’t noticed before. She blinks, turning back to the show. 

After half an episode, Sabina’s almost asleep; she keeps nodding off, but wakes up before she can lean against either one of their shoulders. 

Elena stretches, yawning. “I’m exhausted. What do you think, Jane? Time for bed?” 

“Of course. Goodnight, loves,” Jane says, closing her computer and turning their last light off. 

It’s silent, and Elena stares up at the ceiling, trying so hard not to reach out and touch Sabina. Their bed finally feels full, but she feels like one wrong move and it’ll all be over. She watches the shadows drift across the wall, only finally growing tired when she hears Sabina’s breathing evening out. 

-

Someone’s crying. Elena wakes up. Turns on the nearest lamp.  

Sabina’s curled in a ball, cheeks wet with tears as she whimpers softly. Her fists are clenched, their green sheets balled underneath her hands. Jane’s already up, face blank but eyes wide, her hands hovering close by like she wants to reach out and hold her. 

“Sabina, love. You’re alright," Jane soothes, nodding encouragingly at Elena. 

Elena moves closer. “Wake up, babe. It’s okay.”

Sabina shudders awake, eyes glazed over as she looks up at them, confused. She scrambles back, almost falling off the edge of the bed. Jane reaches out to grab her, her fingers just barely gazing at Sabina's elbow, and Sabina lets out a pained cry.

“Don’t touch me!” Sabina looks frantic, visibly shaking as she pulls her knees into her chest. She buries her head into her knees and cries and cries and cries. Elena’s helpless. She knows Sabina’s had a nightmare, but doesn’t know what it’s about, can’t hold her, can’t help her. 

Jane takes a deep breath and Elena knows she’s trying to hide her own fear with warmth. “It was just a dream, Sabina. It’s not real.” 

Sabina shakes her head, eyes red. “No, no, no . It was-- it is. It--it is. I don’t--” She chokes out a sob. 

Elena untangles herself from their sheets. “It’s not, Sabina. You’re here with us. It was just a dream--”

“Stop saying that!” Sabina growls in frustration, gesturing wildly. Her elbow slams into Elena’s chin, but she doesn’t even flinch.“It happened! It happened and they touched me and they could come find me and--and--” She trails off, chest heaving and eyes full of panic. “I---I want--”

She’s too far gone now, curled into a ball, while she squeezes her eyes shut and digs her fingernails into her thighs. Elena’s seen the scars before, her pale skin littered with tiny crescent moons. 

“Sabina, love. What do you need?” Jane asks, and Elena can tell from her tone that she’s stepped fully into mission mode. 

“Boz…. please,” Sabina whimpers in between gasps for air. Her hair sticks to her face, covered in a sheen of sweat and messy tears. 

Elena can tell Jane is jealous when Boz finally rushes in, Sabina visibly calming down at the sound of her voice. 

“We can try again,” Boz tells them later in the hallway, when Sabina’s medications--the emergency ones they keep on top of the refrigerator-- have finally kicked in and she’s finally asleep on their bed, dried tears sticky across her cheeks. 

Jane just holds Elena’s hand tighter, shifting underneath the stack of blankets she’s holding. Disappointment tastes bitter in her mouth. They’ll sleep on the couch and wait for another, better night. 

(And when Elena has to bandage Jane’s bruised and scraped knuckles after her training session the next morning, their punching bag stained with flecks of blood and her gloves thrown off to the side, she’ll stay quiet. They all grieve in different ways.) 

-- 

“Jane?”

She sets down her book on the couch, looking over at Sabina who’s leaning against the doorway. “Yes, love?” 

“I’m bored.” 

Jane pauses for a moment. She wasn’t expecting that, but given the amount of time they’ve spent cooped up in the safehouse, she thinks it makes sense. She cannot watch another nature documentary. “I think Saint left some cake mix…?” She trails off, arching an eyebrow. 

Sabina just nods. She’ll say yes, we should make cake, by the time they're halfway down the hallway. Later than Jane would like, but she’s trying. It takes her a bit, in the mornings, to get the words flowing. 

Jane makes her pick what kind of cake they make (vanilla) and what color frosting they use (blue). Sabina resists at first, but Jane needs her to know she’s in control, that she has choices she can make. 

Elena breaks into a smile when they present her with a teetering, misshapen cake ( it’s still hot, should we put the icing on now?) covered in patches of frosting and rainbow sprinkles that Jane nearly broke her neck trying to find in the cabinet. Sabina’s soft grin and steady eye contact when she hands her a slice is worth it. 

-- 

“Remember that gross sandwich you tried to give me?” Elena laughs, the tile of the bathroom floor cool underneath her legs. 

“Mhm,” Sabina says and if Elena can hear Sabina’s grin, even if she can’t see it through the shower curtain. 

“It was definitely really old cheese.” The water stops and Elena stands up, stretching out her back. “There’s towels on the counter. I’m gonna go start dinner.” 

“Okay. Thanks, El.” 

There’s good days and bad days. Elena likes the good days better, when Sabina lets them in, both literally and figuratively. 

That’s when Elena’s legs go numb on the bathroom floor because Sabina wants to talk, because she leaves the door open. Or when Sabina and Jane surprise her with cake and Sabina inches closer to them on the couch, all of them holding their breath when she leans into Jane’s side. 

She knows that they all just want more good days. 

-- 

“Just a minute!” Boz had yelled, voice muffled from behind her closed office door. That was at least ten minutes ago. 

Jane leans up against the wall, toying with her necklace. She doesn’t try to eavesdrop-- she’s a nice person by nature-- but she’s also a professional spy, so it’s hard not to. 

“It’s going...okay,” Sabina’s saying, slowly in the way that Jane means she’s tired of talking. 

Jane knows Boz is nodding along, probably give her that look that means “I need more information.” 

“I mean, they’re great.” Sabina offers. Jane knows she’s shifting around in her chair. 

“Jane and Elena?” 

“Yeah. They’re just doing so much and they’re so patient. And I’m…”

“You’re?” 

The garage doors rumbles open from across the house and Jane inwardly swears as it cuts off whatever Sabina’s saying. “--I can do better.” 

No. Never. 

Jane clenches her fists. She knows she’ll hear Sabina say it over and over again. But it’ll never be true and she knows she can’t convince her otherwise. Sabina’s doing the best she can, better than anyone else would in the same circumstances. 

If Jane could, she’d take all of her pain away in a heartbeat. 

It won’t kill Sabina, Jane will make sure it won’t. But it could kill anyone else in seconds flat, she’s sure of it. 

Chapter Text

“Elena, please. Just come get me— I can’t wait until he gets back. Please , Elena.” 

Sabina’s voice is tinny and frantic over the phone Elena has pressed to her ear. She’s scrambling to understand what she’s saying, Sabina’s voice thick with tears and raspy in the way it gets when she’s trying hard not to cry. 

“It’ll be alright, Bina. Take a deep breath for me.” Elena soothes, rounding the hallway as she tries to find Jane. There’s a faint murmur of music coming from the living room. She can hear Sabina exhale shakily, the distant hum of traffic in the background. She thought she would have been ready. “It’s Sabina,” she says, handing the phone off to Jane because she just can’t today. 

“Sabina? What’s going on?” Jane frowns, shutting her laptop. “That’s alright, just breathe for a second, nice deep breaths, and I’m going to talk to Elena, okay?” 

There’s a pause and then Jane looks expectantly up at Elena, brown eyes darkening as she mutes the call. “What’s happened? They just left, not even 20 minutes ago?” 

“It sounded like it was going well, but then she didn’t want to get out of the car to go into the store. Which was fine, we planned for that. So Saint went in to grab a few things, but now she’s scared because she’s alone,” Elena explains, suddenly exhausted. 

Jane just nods as she stands up to pace, bare feet digging into the thin carpeting. “Sabina, love. Are you still there?” Elena moves out of her way, perching on the edge of the coffee table. The mugs from breakfast are still there and she stares at the lukewarm leftover coffee that floats lazily around in them. 

An oily sheen gathers on top of the coffee while Jane talks, walking Sabina through the breathing exercises they all know by heart now and tells her how to move the seat back, so she can lay on the floor if she wants to. Elena knows that there’ll be stubborn brown rings leftover in the mugs if they don’t get washed out soon. 

Elena can hear the door locks in the car click on in the background, and she knows Sabina’s desperate for some type of control in this situation. She’s crying now, loud enough Jane can hear it from across the room and through the phone. She presses her feet against hearthe, stone cool against her bare feet. 

“I-I don’t want to wait, please, Jane. Come get me. I can’t do it, I can’t--”

Jane’s trying to tell Sabina that she’s sure Saint will be back in less than five minutes, because he’s just getting more milk and that’s so close to the front of the store, remember it’s right at the entrance? right by the fruits? and it’ll only be 5 minutes, Sabina, I know you can do it, love, but Elena knows that never helps. She’s making promises she can’t keep. They’ve all done it-- it’s easy to. Five minutes could easily be ten but Elena knows Saint would never push it that far. “Jane, don’t--”

“Elena.” Jane’s voice is low, eyes flashing in warning as she clenches the phone in her hand, brows knitted tightly together.

And any other day, Elena would stay to help, would dig her heels into the ground that falls to pieces all around them, but she’s done today. Completely done . She hates that it’s not even noon and that she knows she got her hopes up too high and why did they think today would be a good day? and how come Jane is a hundred times better at this then she’ll ever be. 

She leaves Jane to pick up the pieces and goes for a run, feet pounding against some semblance of solid ground. 

-- 

“She’s fine. Just napping. Worn out.” Bosley says before Elena can even open her mouth to ask after she gets back, chest heaving and sneakers in hand. 

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” Elena squints, glancing at Boz’s red-rimmed eyes and faint smudge of mascara across her cheeks. “And you? How are you…?” 

Her concern hangs in the air between them for a moment as Bos shifts her weight from her position on the stairs. The air is damp in the garage and a bead of sweat trickles down Elena’s back. She needs a shower and no less than three glasses of cold water. 

Boz clears her throat. “I’m--” she starts, before glancing back at Elena, eyes glassy, and shakes her head. “It’s really hard? I just wish…”

Elena nods, pulling her in for a hug. “I know.” 

“...I just wish I could take it all away for her, sometimes.” Boz finishes, leaning in to Elena as she wraps her arms around her. 

“Me too.”

-- 

“Don’t just leave like that.” Jane says, from her spot on the bed, a slight edge behind her voice. She’s got a book held out in front of her, but even Elena can tell she hasn’t read a single page in the past few minutes. 

Elena stands in front of the closet, hair wet from her shower as it drips down her neck. “Like that ? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“No, I don’t actually. Maybe you should explain it to me.” Elena bites back, swearing as her shirt gets stuck on the hanger. 

Jane sets her book down, sitting up straight. “You left in the middle of our conversation with Sabina. She needed you and that wasn’t fair.” 

Elena can always count on Jane for her honesty. “Fair? You want to know what’s not fair?” She asks, voice sharp and steadily rising in pitch. 

“Tell me.” Jane says, face stoney as she shifts to sit on the edge of their bed. 

Elena yanks her shirt free from the hanger, sending it clattering into the back of the closet. “It’s not fair that she likes you better and every time I try to help, I just fuck it up. I hate being the bad cop all of the time. I hate telling her what she can’t do or making sure she does all of her physical therapy and following her around like I’m some sort of clingy, shitty, distrustful mom. I'm not her mother.”

Jane just looks up at her, face unreadable, and Elena keeps going, wanting her to say something, anything . She hates it when Jane does this. “And you. You just get to sit there and make cakes and let her hold your--your fucking hand.”

“Elena--” 

Elena waves her off. “No! And it’s not fair that you think I’m ditching because I’m lazy or some bullshit excuse like that. Sorry that this is really fucking hard, Jane. Sorry that I left because I knew no matter what I said, it wouldn’t help.” 

Jane opens her mouth to respond, but Elena cuts her off before she can, hand already on the door handle. “Just...don’t. I need some space right now.”

-- 

New York, December 27, 2020

“So we should go right now!” Jane groans in disbelief, like she’s having a hard time understanding why Elena keeps saying no, even though they’ve already had this argument twice today. 

“Jane. My god. We’ve already talked about this.” Elena slams the cabinet door, slumping down into a nearby chair with her head in her hands. 

Jane paces around the kitchen table, hands gesturing wildly out in front of her as her voice gets desperate and pitchy. “Elena, Boz said they’re close to knowing where she is. So why shouldn’t we go and pull her out of there? Give me one good reason!” 

“Because they don’t know, Jane! They don’t fucking know! I’m with Boz on this one and you know that--I’m not risking it until we know for certain she’s there.” 

“We should go just to figure out if she’s there then. We don’t even have to get her the first time around.” Jane explains tiredly and Elena can tell she’s worn out. 

They’re in between two month-long missions and Bosley’s announcement couldn’t have come at a worse time. Jane’s still getting over the last concussion she got in Spain and Elena’s been nursing the same sore shoulder for weeks. There's no way they can go and infiltrate a potential hostage situation now, let alone a few weeks from now. 

Elena reaches for her hand and pulls Jane down into the seat next to hers. “Look, I know how much you want to go and get her, and you know I feel the same way, right? I would be there in a heartbeat if I could.” 

Jane nods in response, leaning against Elena’s side with a heavy sigh. 

“And I hate waiting around as much as you do, but it’s not safe to us or Sabina if we’re unsure and unprepared. You know that. We can’t go now.” 

“I know.” Jane’s grip tightens around her hand, her breath warm against Elena’s neck. “We’ll just keep waiting.” 

"We can do it," Elena says, and she doesn't know who she's trying to convince more; herself or Jane.

-- 

March 17, California, 2021

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jane says later that night, when they’re both in bed and the rest of the house is finally dark and quiet. 

Dinner was short. All of them trying to make awkward small talk and attempting to ignore the conflicting tensions leaching throughout the room. Sabina appeared halfway through, after much persuasion from Saint, barely making it through half a plate of salad and paler then Elena's seen her in the past few weeks. 

Elena’s quiet, too. Unsure of what to say next. She curls into Jane, tangling their fingers together as a response. 

“I know it’s been hard for everyone, including you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t doing enough.” 

“Jane, no--” Elena starts, but Jane’s grip around her hand tightens and she stops talking. 

“I think, no, I know , we’re both doing a lot right now. And it’s hard not to see the results right away. But, I just want you to know, I’m so…” Jane pauses and this time Elena squeezes her hand, their bedroom quiet except for the sounds of both of them breathing in sync. “I’m so proud of you and I’m sorry I don’t say it enough as I should.” 

“I love you,” Elena murmurs back, afraid she’ll cry for the third time today if she says anything else. She buries her head into Jane’s shoulder. She smells like she always does; a hint of black tea and always a lingering scent of sweat. 

Jane presses a kiss on the top of her head. “Love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Sabina wraps her arms around her knees tighter, wet hair dripping down her back as she suppresses a shiver that crawls up her back. 

“--so we’ll have almost ten new recruits in the fall, which is about twice as much as last season,” Jane rambles and Sabina knows it’s more for Jane’s own benefit than anyone else’s. She’s not the best at carrying a conversation. “I’ve heard they have a couple of girls from NASA, which I’m sure Elena will be thrilled with.” 

Sabina clears her throat. “Jane?”

“Yes, love?” Jane shifts from where she’s perched on the marble counter, carefully balanced between the sink and Elena’s shelf of skincare products. 

“I--” Sabina pauses. She’s not sure what to say next. Does she need to ask? Shit. She can’t remember. 

“Sabina?” 

She blinks. Once, twice. The silence is getting too long, weighing thick and heavy on her back. She's going to crack under it. “Can I get out now?” 

“Oh,” Jane’s face falls, just for a second, but, fuck, it’s enough for Sabina to know that she was wrong. “Of course, love. You didn’t need--” 

“--to ask.” Sabina finishes, accepting the towel Jane hands her, white terry-cloth soft under her fingers. “I know, m’sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Jane says, almost too quickly. Sabina doesn’t miss the wince Jane fails to hide when she drains the tub, hand reaching down to pull out the plug as the water swirls down the drain. She knew the water had gotten cold, but it hadn’t been that bad, had it? “Let’s get you into something dry, okay?” 

Sabina nods and accepts Jane’s warmest sweater without a word. It’s a deep purple, with stripes on the cuffs and bottom hem. She fakes a yawn when she knows Jane’s looking-- she hasn’t done a mission in close to a year, but she can still put her groundwork skills to the test. She’s a great liar. 

“Tired?” 

They both know how this will go. Sabina will nod, Jane will find her another blanket and leave behind an offer of doing some sort of activity later ( maybe a movie later, love? Or, Elena’s gonna start dinner, do you want to come sit in the kitchen? )-- one that Sabina will ignore or sleep through. Then, Jane will leave, the door closing with a satisfying click of the lock, and Sabina will lay awake for the next few hours or minutes. 

Or, she’ll fall asleep. Wake up with the sheets in a heap on the ground, sweaty hair sticking to the back of her neck, and a scream burning in the back of her throat. 

She’ll drink half a glass of water, hold her hands under the faucet until it runs hot and her fingers are numb, a bright pink. Then, she’ll unlock the door, join them for lunch or dinner or anything else, where she can shuffle her food around her plate and offer comforting nods and tight smiles that everyone can see through. She feels not quite invisible, somewhere between opaque and translucent, like she’s stuck inside a cocoon. 

Rinse and repeat. 

Sabina shakes her head, sending water droplets scattering onto the carpet. Jane’s sweatshirt is too big on her, so the sleeves cover up her hands when she drops her arms to her sides. It comes in handy when she’s clenching her fists, digging her nails into her palms hard enough to leave little crescent moons behind. “I--actually, do you and Elena want to--would you want to watch something?”

“Sure, love. What do you want to watch?”

Sabina shoots her the look, the one that means “I’m too tired to choose, why can’t you do it for me?” 

“You pick,” Jane presses, as Sabina follows her out into the living room and sinks into the couch. 

Sabina is tired, which means she falls asleep halfway through their third episode of some competitive cooking show. It’s vaguely British, so at least Jane should like it. She wakes up between Jane and Elena, head against Jane’s shoulder and knee pressed into Elena’s thigh. 

It’s a lot, but she leans into them a little harder, just to give them all something to feel. 

-- 

“Would you ever cut your hair?” Elena asks, a bottle of fingernail polish on the floor between them and three fingers painted a deep purple. 

Sabina fingers her hair, which falls past her shoulders. She hasn’t really thought about it. 

“Ooh, you should buzz it again, that would be fun,” Elena says, reaching over to grab the blue. 

“No,” Sabina says, a little more sharply than she was expecting. 

Elena, to her credit, takes it in stride. “Can you pass me a Q-tip? Thanks.” Sabina watches as she swipes on a coat of glittery polish. “You don’t have to cut it, Sab. It’s your hair, you can do whatever you want with it.” 

“I know.” Sabina sighs, drumming her fingers against the tile. “I just...I didn’t like it the last time it was short.” 

Elena blinks, pausing for a second with the brush halfway in between the bottle and her hand. “Oh, I didn’t…”

“It’s alright, ‘Lena.” Sabina reassures, like she’s not feeling a razor scrap across her scalp and bits of hair falling down her neck, sticking to the inside of her shirt, her back slick with sweat and vision going blurry. Like she’s not back--

“Do you want the green?” Elena presses the bottle into her hand with a knowing glance. 

Sabina accepts it, the glass cool against her trembling fingers. “Thanks.” 

-- 

“My Angel!” Saint looks up from his laptop, pushing his glasses off his face. The blinds are open in his office and light streams through the windows, landing softly on the pots of plants scattered across the room. “What can I do for you?” 

Sabina lingers in the doorway, rocking on the balls of her feet. “Uh, have you seen Jane or Elena anywhere? Or Boz?” 

It’s not that late--barely past 9 in the morning--so they could just be in some meeting Sabina doesn’t know about. 

Saint frowns, standing up from his desk. A mug full of pencils and pen rattles near the corner of the desk and Sabina reaches out to catch it before it falls. “Sabina, they have a mission today, remember? Just the pre-work for part of Ingrid’s mission with the insurance company?” 

Sabina nods and swallows thickly before she forces a tight smile. “Oh, right. I just wanted to make sure that it didn’t get rescheduled or anything.” 

“Nope!” Saint taps his watch, glancing down at the screen. “They’re on schedule to get back around 5:00.”

Sabina nods, throwing a soft sounds good! over her shoulder as she leaves, shoving her hands deep into her pockets so Saint can’t see her clenched fists. 

She forgot. 

Elena has only been reminding her for weeks, Jane’s written it on every calendar they own, and Boz already sat her down to run through their schedule, just so she knows what they’ll be doing and when they’ll be doing it. 

But she still forgot. 

Shit.

-- 

“Sabina?”

“Uh, yeah?” She throws a quick glance at the clock-- it’s only 1:00, they shouldn’t be back yet.

“It’s me.” 

“Come in, Saint,” she says, throwing her phone across her bed like she wasn’t just about to text Jane and Elena to ask how everything was going. 

Saint cracks open the door, peering inside. Sabina can tell he’s judging the tightly drawn shades and the fact she’s still in bed. Unlike the rest of them, he doesn’t have the best poker face. “Everything alright?”

Sabina rolls over, voice muffled in the sheets. She’s laying in the middle of their bed, so when she shifts over, it smells like Jane’s favorite black tea and Elena’s orange scented shampoo. “Fine.” There’s an uncomfortably long silence and she knows Saint won’t leave until she gives him some more details. “Just a headache.” She doesn’t have too bad of a headache, just a slight pressure behind her eye she knows is from stress, but she feels like she needs a reasonable excuse for why she’s still in bed. 

“Can I get you anything? Ice pack? Smoothie?” 

Her stomach physically recoils at the thought of choking down one of Saint’s all-organic, bright green, antioxidant filled smoothies. “No thanks, I think I’m just gonna sleep it off.” 

Saint finally leaves after she promises him she’ll text him if she needs anything ( I’m right down the hall! Just yell if you need anything--wait, maybe not yell with headache but you get the picture!), and she’s alone again. 

-- 

It’s weird, with the house this quiet. Sabina’s gotten used to Angels coming and going, with all of their meetings and training sessions, and especially because of how well situated their California location is. 

Jane and Elena haven’t had a full mission in months, so they’ve been hanging around the house; watching movies between meetings and dragging Sabina to her therapy sessions in between their own workouts. 

Therapy, actually, hasn’t been the worst. She could go talk to Saint again, let her worries about Jane and Elena being gone, about having everything out of her control float away with the incense she’s sure he’s burning in his office. She could leave lighter, bake a cake to celebrate their mission, and enjoy it later with everyone, kitchen bathed in a warm glow as they recount their day and she gets to feel some semblance of normalcy while she scrapes leftover chocolate frosting off her plate. 

But, she won’t. Because she still feels guilty for forgetting they had a mission to begin with. She’s antsy, restless, headache pounding relentlessly behind her temples. Sabina knows she’s never going to fall asleep no matter how long she lays in bed, so she slips on a sweatshirt and heads down the hall. 

She leaves a note on Saint’s door, a hastily scribbled one about going on a run, before she laces up her sneakers and heads out. It’s grey and drizzling, which seems fitting, given her mood. 

According to her phone, she makes it almost half a mile before it starts down pouring. She’s running along the gravel path down to the hanger, with only a few trees between her and the darkening sky. 

It hits her hard the moment she pauses to turn around to go back. Her head really, really hurts. The pounding behind her temples has turned into an ice pick being driven into her forehead.

“Fuck,” she swears, holding a hand out so she can lean up against a tree, blood rushing in her ears. A drop of water sneaks past her collar, dripping down her neck. 

Sabina runs back, because she’s not about to call Saint and have him show up in a golf cart or something equally as embarrassing. It’s fine, she’ll pop some pain killers and take a warm shower. 

Her sweatshirt is soaked and she leaves a trail of wet footprints back to her room, feet slipping on the wood floor as she tries to sneak back as quietly as possible. She shivers under the shower spray, turning the water up as hot as it can go, but she’s still freezing.  

She stares at herself in the mirror when she finally gets out, wincing at the overhead lights. Her vision blurs, and she has to cling to the door frame with white-knuckles before she can shuffle back to her bed. Sabina glances at the clock before she buries her head into a pillow. It’s almost 4:00, she can pull herself together before they get back. 

--- 

“--still asleep?” 

Shit. 

Sabina rushes to sit up, but black spots immediately swarm her vision and she slumps back against her pillow, biting back a groan.

“Sabina?” She wants to say something, anything, but she can only focus on the pounding pressure building in her head. 

“Are you alright, love?” Jane’s hand is warm on her shoulder and she turns away from it, guilt seeping in. 

Sabina breathes through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut as she attempts to calm her turning stomach. “I--migraine,” she manages to spit out in between gritted teeth. She waits, shoulders tensed. She shouldn’t have complained. They don't need to--

“Oh, love. It’ll be alright.”

And when she finally buries her face in Elena’s shoulder, messy tears leaking into her sweatshirt, she can believe it, just for a second. 

-- 

“Elena?” Her voice is raspy, ragged from the amount of time she’s spent heaving over the toilet. 

Elena shifts from her spot where she’s leaning up against the tub. “What do you need, B?” 

“....turn the lights on?” 

She can’t see in the pitch dark, but she knows Elena’s frowning. “Won’t that hurt your head? I thought the pain pills just kicked in.” 

“I just--I don’t like it when it’s so dark,” Sabina rushes to explain, cheeks flaming. It’s late, inky black outside and in. When she’s laying on the floor, cool tile pressed against her cheek, she can almost feel the hands, reaching, grabbing for her. The pinch of needle, the rough edge of blade. 

“Oh. Ok,” Elena hesitates, “do you think you can make it back to the bed? Jane’s got some of those blankets you like and we can find a little night light to plug in?” 

Sabina nods, pressing her foot against Elena’s leg. 

-- 

She blinks slowly when she wakes up, trying to make sure her eyes can handle the light and her head has finally stopped pounding. She’s settled between Elena and Jane, cocooned in the nest of blankets Jane found for her. 

“Better?” Jane eyes her, setting down her book. 

Sabina looks at the time, glad it’s not still midnight. She clears her throat.“Mhm.” 

Elena hands her another glass of water and some aspirin, only satisfied when she drinks half of it. Jane cards her fingers through her hair and Sabina leans against her, closes her eyes.

“Tell me about your mission. How’d it go?”

She’s half asleep before they even get to the part when they arrived at the office building, but she lets herself doze off, Jane’s fingers untangling her hair and Elena’s shoulder tucked against hers. 

Safe. 

Chapter Text

“Go again,” Sabina demands, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

Ingrid looks warily over where Bosley’s standing, questioningly arching an eyebrow. She’s wearing her training outfit, a sleek black ensemble, and not a single blond hair is out of place on her head. 

Boz looks down at her clipboard, loosening her grip on the cool metal as she gives Ingrid a curt nod. “One more round, Sabina. That’s it.” 

Sabina cracks her knuckles, looking expectantly back at Boz as she clenches her jaw. “Fine.” 

Elena reaches for Jane’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. Jane rubs her thumb in small circles across her wrist, shooting her a knowing look as they watch with bated breath. 

They’ve been pacing around the boxing ring for close to an hour. Sabina’s been retesting for the past three days, and as much as Elena hates to admit it, it’s been hard to watch. Hard enough that she and Jane have been sharing worried glances and hasty whispers behind closed doors. 

Elena refuses to count Sabina out, especially after everything she’s been through in the past year -- she’s the strongest person Elena knows. Elena is filled with nothing but reverence for her. But, she knows Sabina’s not at the caliber she used to be at. It’s expected, but it doesn’t fail to push a wave of conflicting emotions onto Elena. Frustration being closest towards the top. 

“Come on. You’ve got this, love.” Jane encourages with a soft smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her brown eyes. 

Sabina pushes her hair back out of her face, a heavy sheen of sweat covering her upper body, cheeks flushed, and a faint scattering of bruises lining her arms. She split her lip the day before on the obstacle course, landing hard on the ground after misjudging the distance jumping down from the rock wall. Elena winces when she gnaws at it, reopening the scab. A bead of blood forms over the cut and Sabina swipes at it, the back of her hand coming away smeared with red. 

Boz gestures at Sabina and Ingrid to go ahead. 

Elena holds her breath. 

-- 

“Jane, I said it was fine .” Sabina seethes, crossing her arms over her chest as she resists the ice pack Jane’s holding out in front of her. Condensation gathers on the blue plastic and water drips down Jane’s forearm. 

“Sabina. Can you just take it, please?” Jane asks, exhaustion leaking into her voice as she looks back at Sabina, who’s fuming in the backseat.

She takes it without a word, just a stony glare before she leans back against the car window. 

Jane bites her tongue, hands curling into fists at her sides, taunt against the smooth, brown leather of the seats. It’s been a long day. 

-- 

“And what do you think, Elena?”

“About..?” Elena knits her eyebrows together in confusion as she looks back at Saint. It’s late in the afternoon and soft streams of light leak through his blinds in the office, landing on the shelf of plants behind them.

“Do you think she’s ready?”

Elena frowns, trying to steel her facial expressions. “I--wait, what? I just spent the good part of a half an hour telling you about how Sabina’s been doing so much better, since everything happen.” She gestures wildly, hands flying through the air. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.” 

Saint leans forward, desk chair creaking underneath him. “Which I appreciate, Elena, I really do. But, I think you know what I’m trying to ask.”

Elena’s silent, shifting in her spot as she stares helplessly back at Saint, desperately trying to say something, anything. “I-she’s...um…” She stammers, a sinking feeling in her stomach. 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to answer right away,” Saint says, blank face masking whatever he’s thinking, but a twinge of something Elena can’t place lingers in his eyes. “Get back to me when you feel ready.” 

Ice cold guilt creeps in as Saint leads her out the door, a whiff of jasmine following her out into the hallway.

Like Boz always reminds them, silence is an answer in itself. 

-- 

Rebekah Bosley is a certified, professional liar. It’s in her job description. 

That doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. 

“We’re sending you on a mission,” she tells Sabina, refusing to look her in the eye as she sips her coffee, wincing at how cold it’s gotten.  

“For real?” Sabina stares at her incredulously, leg bouncing underneath the table. The dull grey carpeting of the boardroom does nothing to muffle the sound. “I passed all the tests?”

She ignores the second question. “A practice mission,” she clarifies, setting her mug down. “With Elena and Jane.”

“A practice mission?” Sabina repeats, tilting her head in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that before. I thought it was just the physical retest and the psych evaluation.” 

“Think of it as a simulation. We’re just going to run you through some scenarios and see how it goes. Nothing to worry about.”

A wide grin stretches across Sabina’s face and she doesn’t attempt to hide it. “Oh, okay. Yeah that sounds good.” Sabina thanks her profusely when they finish finalizing the schedule, leaning over the table for a hug. 

Boz hesitates before finally wrapping an arm around her, her other hand pushing the thick manila folder deeper into her bag, the one marked with Sabina’s name, filled with failed reports, and heavy, red pen marks. 

She supposes lying is just at holding off the truth for a long as possible. Bosley’s always been good at stalling. 

--

September 15, California, 2021 

Jane’s hands are shaking when she ties up her boots, the waxy laces cutting into her palms when she pulls too hard, leather molding tight around her feet.  

“Ready to go?” She looks up to find Sabina practically bouncing off the cream colored walls in their apartment, to-go cup of coffee in hand and standard black uniform zipped up.

Elena emerges from the entryway, tightening her ponytail. Jane can’t get a good read on her. “Boz is out front. We should get going.” 

10 minutes into the car ride, Jane realizes she never answered Sabina’s question. The more she thinks about it, the more she decides she doesn’t have an answer to it. They’re never completely ready for missions, because it’s impossible to predict what will happen even with the best planning. 

This one’s no different. Jane figures it’s for the best that she and Elena are going into it just as blind as Sabina, but it still leaves her with a lingering feeling of worry. The whole point of this mission is to settle back into things as a team, and Jane knows if she goes into it with the sole goal of protecting Sabina, they’ll all be thrown off. 

-- 

“Remember, the main goal is to get into the mainframe and secure the hard drive. Everyone’s equipped with paintball guns, so once you get hit, you’re out. You need to hit all of the guards to finish.”  Boz strains against her seatbelt as she twists around from her spot in the driver’s seat to run them through the mission plan one last time. “If the lights go red, it means you’ve failed.”

 Elena’s only half listening, drumming her fingers against her thigh and watching Sabina. 

“The three main exit points are the fire escape, the roof, and the elevator shaft,” Boz continues, as Sabina practically mouths the instructions word-for-word along with her. 

“You look like you’re going to puke,” Jane whispers, gaze flickering between Elena and Sabina, who’s now deep in conversation with Boz. 

“Am not!” Elena protests, grimace morphing into a wry glare when she sees the hint of a grin Jane’s trying to hide. She gives her a light shove, grateful for the distraction. 

Jane squeezes her hand as they slide out of the car, eyeing the large brick building in front of them. Elena holds on to it tight, wiping her sweaty palm against her pants as she sucks in a deep breath. She hasn’t puked on a mission in years, and she can’t break her streak now. She refuses.

“Can we do the handshake now?” Sabina’s hand hovers over theirs and Elena’s blood runs cold. Jane nods at Sabina, nudging Elena forward, and they run through their routine. Elena hasn’t forgotten it, not even the back-to-back high-fives and the three first pumps at the end for good luck.  

They huddle together for a hug and Elena breathes into the mixture of the three of them; black tea, orange peels, and a hint of smoke. 

Boz’s gaze is heavy on the back of her neck when they finally pull apart, and when Elena turns around to look back, her face is unreadable behind the tinted windshield. 

And if she closes her eyes before they step into the brick building, she can almost trick herself into thinking that nothing’s changed. 

-- 

“Just finished downloading the files. Sabina, Jane, what’s your status?” Elena’s voice is loud and clear in Sabina’s ears, so she’s quick to pick up the hint of worry that lurks underneath her message. 

The wire staircase rattles as Sabina’s boots pound against it. “Elena, chill out, dude. We’re all good. Jane’s patrolling the east perimeter and I’m just about to--oh wait.”

“Sabina?” Jane and Elena both question urgently. Sabina can hear rustling in the background and a door slamming shut. 

“It’s fine. Just a leftover guard we apparently forgot to pick up. I can handle it.” 

The rustling over the comms stops. “ Sabina .” Jane draws out her name, not even trying to hide the warning in her tone. 

She ducks behind a large potted plant. “Jane. I said I could handle it. I’ll meet you outside in a few.” 

She follows the guard through the hallway, unable to stop her curiosity from getting the better of her. He punches in a code for a locked door and she slips a finger in between the lock before it snaps shut, closing it softly behind her as she ducks into the shadows. 

There’s an exposed piping system above her and she shimmies her way up in order to get a better vantage point. 

“Sabina, where are you?” 

“Just a second, Elena.” Sabina heaves herself up onto the catwalk, looking down into the rest of the room. There’s a wall of computers and a few guards scattered around. She narrows in on the screens in the center of the room, squinting to see in the dimly lit room. There’s a stream of code flashing on the screen. 

“Elena? Are you sure that you hacked into the right system?” 

“Sabina, what? Where are you? You need to get out, right now,” Elena says, frantic tone obvious through the comms. 

Sabina sticks a tranquilizer on a nearby guard, swiping his gun. Neon green paint stains the muzzle. She reloads, picking off the rest of the guards from her spot up above, until they’re all on the ground, splattered with paint. “Elena, tell me. Are you sure?”

Jane’s voice crackles with static in her ear. “I’m coming back in.” 

“I found the real hard drive,” Sabina rushes to explain, jumping down onto a nearby desk and then the cement floor. “I’ll grab it and get out.”

“Sabina, don’t--”

“The one you found must have been a decoy, Elena. This one is marked and everything.” 

Sabina reaches for the black rectangle sticking out of the computer, fingers deftly slipping back the tangle of wiring. 

“No, Sabina. It’s not it. Trust me!”

It sticks and she pulls harder, shifting slightly as she jiggles it around. This has to be it. 

“Wait!” 

Nothing happens. Then, the lights go out. Sabina holds her breath, hard drive in hand. When they come back on, they’re red. A bright, neon red that flashes in her eyes. She’s failed.

-- 

February 3, [Redacted], 2021

“Landing in 45 seconds, Bosley.” 

Rebekah Bosley nods, holstering her gun and holding on tight to the rigging on the side of the helicopter. “We’ll be back,” she says. The other agents around her nod in response, understanding the gravity of what she’s saying even though she’s heading in alone. 

“Approaching the access point in 4, 3, 2…” the pilot yells over the roar of the propellers, but Bosley’s already gone, rolling onto the rooftop and landing softly on her feet, rotting wood creaking underneath her. 

She slips through a vent in the roof. The two guards are slumped against the brick wall before they even notice her, blood dripping from the single bullet she’s lodged in their foreheads.

Same with the one she meets in the staircase and the three standing in front of the doorway. Her gun is hot against her hand and she tightens her grip, knuckles white against the black metal. 

The room is dark and empty, wind blowing in from a wall of broken windows. The glass crunches underneath her boots, a few pieces stained red and a scrap of blue fabric flutters against the wind, caught on the sharp edges. 

“Suspects escaped through the north exit, send in ground cover,” she mutters into her watch, eyes finally adjusting to the dimly lit room. Bosley doesn’t care if they’re gone; they’re not who she's looking for.

There’s a table swept clean of weapons, the remains of a few maps hanging limply on the walls, and a chair that’s been turned over, currently laying on it’s side. The wooden floorboards underneath are scratched, white, jagged lines running through them, like the chair’s been dragged across the floor. Something snaps underneath her boots and she looks down to find the shattered remains of a syringe. 

There’s a bookshelf in the corner. The books on the third shelf are clean, even though the surrounding shelves are covered in thick layers of dust. She runs her fingers across the spines until the shelf swings open to reveal another room. 

It’s small and dimly lit. No window, just a single lightbulb swinging from a wire in the ceiling. The cement walls are damp and puddles are spread across the floor. A drain in the middle of the room does nothing to help the sedentary pools of murky water. 

Water seeps through the thick fabric of her jumpsuit when she kneels on the floor in front of a cot that’s been shoved into the corner. There’s a pile of grey, ragged blankets on top of it and Bosley can just make out a few strands of blonde hair peek through. 

Her hands shake as she reaches out, palms hovering over the side of the cot as her voice cracks. “Sabina?”

-- 

June 21, California, 2022

“Last round! Get those knees up!” 

The recruits jog across the field, sneakers digging into the grass as they dodge around cones. They’re dressed in matching shorts and grey t-shirts, adorned with the outline of silver wings across the chest. It’s getting late, the sun slowing sinking down the sky, streaked with pink and orange. The air's thick with humidity and the scent of rain lingers in the distance. 

“‘Bina.”

Sabina turns around, whistle dangling in her hand. “Hey! You’re back already?” 

“Mhm,” Elena nods, “it was a quick one. Already done with the debrief–I’ll have Boz send you the notes.” She’s still dressed in her gear, thick black boots and a black tank-top. Her hair’s thrown up into a bun, a few brown tendrils floating across her forehead. “Touch?”

“Yes.” Sabina leans into her hug, lets her plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “Is Jane back, too?” 

Elena’s voice is muffled against her shoulder and Sabina can feel the warmth of her breathe on her neck. “Yeah, she’s starting dinner. Pasta tonight.”

Sabina pulls away after a moment, bringing her whistle up to her mouth. “Let me finish up with the recruits and then I can join you guys for dinner? We won't be too long.” 

“Sounds good. See you in a few.” 

“Hey, Elena,” Sabina calls after her once she turns to head back to the apartment. 

“Yeah?”

Sabina grins, “maybe get a shower in, too. Little sweaty.”

Elena rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “Hurry up or else Jane will eat all of the garlic bread before you get back.” 

“She wouldn’t!” Sabina gasps in mock exasperation. 

“You never know!” Elena calls after her, setting off a fast jog. 

The whistle blows and the recruits gather in a semi-circle around Sabina. She runs them through a few cool down stretches, then sends them on their way. She sighs in relief when she finally makes it back to their apartment; it’s been a long day. 

Sabina stops to admire the placards posted on their door, golden cursive bright against the white wood. There’s three sets of wings, one for each of their names. They’re all Angels, even if Jane and Elena’s name say “Agent” next to them and her says “Trainer”. She’ll never not be an Angel. It was never a doubt in any of their minds.

The scent of garlic and tomatoes wafts through the hallway. She can hear music from the otherside of the doorway and it only gets louder when she opens it. There’s a golden, hazy light from the sun sneaking past their curtains and Elena’s perched on the counter, wet hair dripping down her back, while Jane stirs something on the stove. The oven beeps and a timer goes off. The song ends and a new one begins.  

She’s home.