Work Text:
The night had been eventful to say the least. Farah would have gladly pushed back the late meeting in her office to the following morning had the subject not been so urgent, but something was brewing, and she could not wait to report what Bloom had told her about her vision of Rosalind. She had been a little taken aback when Saul had not lingered behind and had instead followed Ben out of her office once they had decided to finally call it a night. The text she had received shortly after had shoved her worries aside. 'My suite in 10? ' it simply read, and she had not bothered to respond, her feet already in motion as soon as she had processed the written words.
Saul opened the door a split second after her dry knock, as if he had been waiting right on the other side. As he moved aside to let her in, he took note of the stiffness in her shoulders. It looked like the fairy was physically taking the weight of the world on them; her usually confident posture now replaced by a slight slouch and a chin pointing down.
“You alright?” he asked, furrowing his brows at the unfamiliar sight.
"Fine," Farah answered, facing him. Typical Saul, putting everyone’s well-being first when he was the one who almost died. It would be an understatement to say that she had been relieved to feel the infection leave his body through their bond once she had destroyed the cinder of the Burned One the kids were recklessly fighting on their own. She had been ecstatic really, and all she had wanted to do was to run to the greenhouse to be with him. But there were other urgent matters to deal with, things that could not be pushed back and she had not had a chance to properly check on him. There would have been absolutely no chance for her to find sleep if she had not made sure he was not going to leave her anytime soon. Rationally, it had been clear that Saul was going to be alright the moment the Burned One had collapsed on the ground. But there never was anything rational about her feelings for him, no matter what stories she told herself. So here she was, knocking on his door at 2.a.m.
"I just...” She was fidgeting with the ring on her thumb, making it turn endlessly around it. “How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." She scrutinized his face in silence, her lips pressed into a thin line. He felt obligated to insist, "I really am."
She sighed loudly and moved to the small grey couch in the middle of the room. Saul's quarters were neat and simply decorated, a faithful reflection of its owner's essence and of the soldier in him. There was a picture of Sky and himself on the console next to the front door, a minimalistic black and white map of the Other World above the buffet behind the couch and on the coffee table, a candle she had bought years ago in an attempt to make his space a little more personal.
Farah sat on the armrest, her legs stretching in front of her. He watched her fingers busying themselves with her ring and waited for her to say something. Her silence was slightly out of character, since in all the years they had known each other, never had she hesitated to speak her mind. Not to him, at least, not once, and the more tortuous silent seconds passed, the more Saul had a feeling that whatever she struggled to say would probably lead to a heated conversation he had no wish to have.
"Tell me", he urged her.
Farah shot him a glance, but her eyes immediately fell back on the floor. "If there are more Burned Ones out there, and I fear there are..." she started slowly, as if she were still pondering as she spoke. "We might have to go back to fighting them the way we used to. And I'm going with you, no matter what you say," she continued, staring into space.
"Farah..." he sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We talked about this already. You're the Headmistress, you have to stay here."
"I am the Headmistress. And you're still my Specialist, meaning you're my responsibility.”
"Well technically, I have to protect your life while you channel your magic, not the other way around. Your life was far more valuable than mine back then and it's still true today," he shrugged, parroting the words he so often heard coming out of Rosalind's mouth.
She looked up to him with a frown. Saul's selflessness had always made him a great soldier, but it also meant he was pretty clueless about the value of his life in other people's eyes. "Don't say that. It's not true. That was never our functioning, and you know it."
Their dynamic on the battlefield had always been one of mutual protection and care, he would never deny that. It did not mean he was ready to yield. "Still... doesn’t mean you shouldn't stay with the students. You have other priorities now."
"What am I supposed to do, put your safety in somebody else's hands?" she asked, feeling a heavy heat blossom in her chest as she crossed her arms across it. "That's not happening, unless you stay behind too, which we both know you won't do if shit hits the fan."
"Look at what happened, Farah!" he exclaimed, his voice betraying his frustration. "Like hell I'm staying behind! It was a bloody massacre!"
"Yes, and you almost died!" she said raising her voice in return, unable to control the quiver. "You almost died, and I wasn't there," she breathed, her gaze dropping to her hands. "It won't happen again. I haven't been scared like that since..." she trailed off, while images of a muscular body clad in the Specialist uniform heavily hitting the muddy ground resurfaced in her mind with an unsettling ease, as if it had been imprinted on her retina, his chest displaying deep lacerations oozing with thick crimson blood. Her knees would have buckled under her like they had back then, had she not been sitting, and it took a couple of steadying breath to blink the images away.
"I can't lose you, Saul." Her shoulders sagged and her eyes glanced up to his before quickly going back to a spot on the floor close to his feet. She cursed herself for not managing to hold his gaze. It seemed she could not speak her mind while his grey eyes studied her as she was battling with herself.
Saul found himself wrapping his arms around her before he even remembered making the decision. He planted a gentle kiss on her temple, and the weight she had been carrying on her shoulders for the past week finally got the better of her as a few tears dampened her cheeks. In his arms, after a long week of soldiering on, Headmistress Dowling could finally let her guard down and allow herself to be simply Farah. And all Farah wanted was to lay down her weapons and lower her shield to melt in her Specialist' embrace. She could never keep it all up for long around him anyway, even less so when he held her tight like he did right now. His arms were always as efficient on her Headmistress armor as fire on ice, reducing it to a mere puddle at their feet. She buried her head in his chest and let his familiar perfume fill her nostrils, the hint of bergamot instantly soothing her. It reminded her of her morning tea, and she wondered if she loved it as much as she did because it subconsciously reminded her of him or if it was the other way around.
"Look, you're one of the most powerful fairies in the Other World, Fa," he mumbled in her hair after a while. If shit hits the fan, we'll need you and your powers to protect the realm, not just the school." He felt her tense in his arms and hugged her a bit tighter, sorry to feed the already heavy burden she imposed on her own shoulders. Farah had a certain talent to take the weight of the world on them and she certainly did not need anyone to add to it, but Saul owed her to be honest. She was ready to protest when he pleaded, "Can we do this tomorrow? I don't have the energy to argue tonight."
"Sorry," she said as she backed away to look at him. His drawn features and slightly hooded eyes testified for his tiredness. Nothing surprising after the hellish week he had just been through, though. She noticed how her instincts immediately urged her to go back to her previous position, her body missing his warmth and her soul missing the instant comfort he always provided. She also noticed he had not let go of her despite her moving back. The way it perfectly illustrated the dynamic of their relationship would have been funny if not so bittersweet.
She motioned to stand up and he had no choice but to let go of her then. "You should get some sleep. I'm afraid the next few days won't exactly be restful."
He nodded with a tight smile, already weary at the prospect of what was to come. Farah moved aside, ready to retire to her suite for the night, but she had not gone far when Saul grabbed her wrist. He pulled her gently to him, soon cradling her hand in both his palms. "Will you stay?"
Her eyes oscillated between his face and their hands. They had not spent a lot of time together during the past week and that was entirely on her, as it usually was. Not that she had not wanted to, but it would have tasted like goodbye given the circumstances and she had not trusted herself to keep it together. So, she had selfishly stayed away. Maybe it was time to stop pulling away.
"If you want me to," she answered, letting out a shaky breath.
"You know I always do."
His hands found their way around her waist where they seemed to belong, and he pressed a soft kiss on her lips. She put her hands on his chest, quickly letting them slide up around his neck, pressing their bodies together as their heart rate increased in rhythm.
"You should maybe set an alarm to sneak off," he suggested, breaking their kiss. "I don't trust us to wake up early. I'm exhausted."
She winced at how naturally he said it; like he was so used to it that it did not bother him anymore. Truly, Saul was used to her never staying the whole night or vice versa, yet it did not mean that he was not bothered by the situation. But he had come to accept what it meant to love Farah Dowling the way she let him. It meant never walking back to the school with their fingers intertwined after an evening out. It meant never planting small kisses on her bare shoulder to wake her up in the mornings. Never bringing her tea in bed whilst she stirred drowsily, her face partly hidden by a honey-colored mane. But it also meant feeling her arm link with his on late-night walks along the barrier whilst they talked about their day. Sometimes it meant impromptu visits to her office to steal her a burning kiss and remind her it was time for dinner and that she should eat because she had already skipped lunch. And it always meant having the privilege to unpin her intricate updos while kissing her neck, then witnessing the cascade of curls falling down gracefully and moving with her when she sank down on him and threw her head back in pleasure. And he had settled for that because loving Farah the way she let him and sharing those moments with her was simply better than sharing nothing at all.
"I don't... I don't think I'll sneak off anymore," she whispered.
He frowned, "Alright," his probing gaze scanning every inch of her face.
"I...” she started, playing absent-mindedly with the collar of his t-shirt. “I’ve always been too scared of letting you all in. But I think I just realized...You already are." Locking eyes with him, she breathed, "You have my whole heart, Saul."
Saul cupped her face and looked at her straight in the eyes. “And you have mine.”
She held his gaze this time, all her worries cleared with her confession. It almost seemed silly, now. "I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it," she added, a bitter chuckle shaking her shoulders.
"I would have had a near-death experience sooner if I had known."
"Don't joke with that," she reprimanded him, her tone contrasting with the smirk that crept on her lips.
He grinned in response then kissed her, a long, intense kiss to show her he really meant it when he said afterwards, "It's forgiven."
"I don't know what I did to deserve you."
“Don’t. You deserve the world, Fa.”
She dropped her head and sighed, a sad smile replacing the playful smirk she had worn seconds ago. She did not believe that at all and Saul was painfully aware of it. It broke his heart, really. Rosalind had left them with some wounds rooted far deeper than the long healed physical ones.
He hugged her tightly, hoping that perhaps he could magically put her scattered pieces back together just like that. She might be chipped here and there but at least she would be whole. As he held her, he promised himself to do everything in his power not to just help her heal, but to succeed. And the next morning, he thought he might very well achieve that, seeing the content look on her face as she was woken by soft kisses peppered on her shoulder and the smell of a hot cup of tea on the bedside table.