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“I don’t feel pain anymore,” she tells Elena, half joking as her and Jane spin the scientist around in the chair, about to get her wings tattooed on her.
It’s half of a truth, half of a lie. She feels less now, now that she’s been clean for years, gone through Angel training, been covered in countless bruises and scrapes.
It’s never physical anymore.
Instead, it’s a deep ache in her chest whenever she slips up, lets herself fall too deep, too fast into Jane, diving into what-ifs and what-could-have beens. It happens the same way every time, leaving Sabina to wonder if always falling for someone you can never have is its own form of self-sabotage.
She always knows it’s coming, knows when it starts to happen. It happens slowly but surely over time, letting her relish in the quiet moments she knows she’ll dream about later. Jane’s head on her shoulder as they slump against benches on the boat, covered in the consequences of their mission. Jane’s eyes filled with tears, leaning over her makeshift bed in Fatima’s clinic, her hand tight around Sabina’s as she confesses she’s never had a friend like her before.
It’s cruel, the way Sabina lets herself think. Her job is hard, but this is easy, almost too easy to sink into. So she lets herself, promises herself again and again that it’s just until the mission is over, because this can never last. Lets herself smile and hug and laugh and immerse herself in Jane, like she’s jumping into water and trying to touch the bottom.
Then it’s halfway over. They spend a few weeks at the base, watching Elena train to become one of them, healing up. And still, Sabina lets herself soak in it, while it’s still warm and welcoming; lets herself sink into Jane’s arms as they sleep, flash her the softest of grins, hold onto her tight while they cheer Elena on. She feels her always, the phantom heat of her touch lingering hours after her fingers have brushed past her arm, her hand burned into her waist from when they sparred during training.
It’s never enough.
It ends for real and Sabina feels like she’s trapped under ice, frozen while everyone else has thawed. Elena finishes her training and they go their separate ways for a while, settling back into the rhythm of things.
Something deep, dark, and dangerous emerges from the cracks in her armor. Something unfinished and unsolved that nags at her, chips away at the power her brain holds over her feelings. She buries it away, covers in it drinks that burn in the back of her throat, in mission after mission. Elena’s starting her own missions now, so Sabina helps her plan, spending hours quizzing her over the phone, and mapping out escape plans.
They text her, but in this job, busyness always works as an excuse. They send her pictures of them meeting up without her, laughing over cups of coffee. It would hurt if it was anyone else, but Sabina knows it’s better this way, knows that distance and time are the only factors working with her, instead of against.
She has her own missions, too. Individual ones that she throws herself headfirst into; it’s better when she’s working alone, when she can make her face a mask, put on a costume and pretend to be someone else for a night or two.
Because then she doesn’t have to think about it. Until she limps home late to a dark safe house, a half-empty bottle of whatever was on sale left out on the coffee table. Until she peels off the wig, scrapes off the makeup, and looks in the mirror, not quite sure what she’s looking for.
Until it’s just her, alone with too much in her head and not quite nearly enough in her heart. She can try to fill it, with blurred faces in the dark of the night, in heat and touches and quiet gasps that disappear in then morning, leaving her with the sour taste of wine in her mouth and dirty sheets. She gets the text from Bosley after one of those nights, fumbling with her chiming phone in the dark of her bedroom.
Mission update: art thief/philanthropists. Just you and some newer Angels. Brooklyn on Wednesday. Call for more details.
Her calendar is already clear, which of course Bosley knows, so there’s nothing she can do to get out of it. She could call in sick, but the last thing she needs is Saint showing up, rifling through her recycling, heavy with broken glass and sticky with old wine. She’s already in New York, and for all they know, she’s healthy. Sabina deletes the text like she’s supposed to, sets a reminder to call Boz and falls back asleep, bed cold.
—
Sabina scrubs a hand over her face, phone pressed tight against her cheek. “Boz. You said new Angels. I, I don’t…” she trails off, shoving her free hand into her pocket.
Bosley’s voice is tinny over the phone, but Sabina can tell there’s an edge of suspicion lurking in it. “Sabina, I’m having a hard time understanding. I changed it around specifically so you could all work together, it’s been a while since you’ve had a mission with a team and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Before I forget, Jane’s flying in tomorrow, so I’ll send someone to pick her up.”
“No, I know. That makes sense. Look, I gotta go. See you Wednesday.” She hangs up the phone before Bosley can respond, pressing her palms hard against her eyes.
“B? Everything good?” The coffee shop door cracks open, spilling hot air out into the street. Elena peers out, eyebrows knitted together in a frown.
Sabina heads back inside, raking a hand through her hair. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, rookie. You want a scone?”
—
The mission goes well. Jane and Elena stay at her apartment, which gives her an excuse to sweep all of the empty bottles into the trash outside of her building, fill her fridge with actual food and make her own bed like it’s where she really sleeps at night.
Elena hacks them into the gallery in seconds flat and Sabina’s impressed at how far she’s come, fighting alongside them with the confidence she’s always deserved. She and Jane make quick work of the security team, returning to Bosley with bags full of rolled of canvas.
Jane makes them all do their handshake before they swoop in and Sabina hates herself for how well she remembers it, even after all these months. It’s easy, letting herself slip back into their trio like they’ve never been apart. The small talk, the hugs, high-fives. They have her back and she knows it, making all the easier to fall back into their trust.
Everything about it’s easy, which makes it harder to leave it.
Her apartment’s cold when she gets back from dropping Elena and Jane off at the airport, their lingering warmth hanging in the air. She smokes half a pack, just to get rid of the scent of Jane’s shampoo that wafts throughout the kitchen, falling asleep on the couch.
—
She’s exhausted, spending a night at the safe house in Los Angeles before she catches a red eye back to New York. Bosley had let her increase her missions, with the promise that she’d take of herself. Sabina thinks people put too much trust in her.
“Heading to bed soon?” Saint asks, tidying up the coffee table.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll head up in a little bit,” she says with a yawn, unfurling from her spot on the couch.
“Jane’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he adds and Sabina knows he’s studying her for a response. Does he know? “Her flight gets in before yours.”
She drains her glass. “Cool. Alright, I’m gonna head up. Thanks for the laundry and food.”
“Of course. Take care, Sabina.”
She leaves before Saint can see the tears that threatened to spill, leaves before she can give herself a chance to confess to whatever’s brewing in her chest out, inky blackness pouring out and staining the rug underneath her.
She leaves the next morning, too early. Jane always said she was good at running away.
—
“I miss you!” Elena’s face pouts at her from her computer screen.
Sabina rebalances it on her knees. “Oh, hang on a second, dude. You’re frozen.”
“Better?” Elena asks half a second later.
She fiddles with encryption code, tapping at a few buttons she hopes will do the trick. “Yeah, must be the WiFi in here.”
“Where even are you?”
Sabina offers a lazy grin. “Rookie, you know I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m four months out of training, stop calling me rookie,” Elena complains, electing a laugh from Sabina. “But seriously, B, you can’t even tell me?”
“Nope,” Sabina says, craning her head to look out of the train window. “This is my stop, I gotta go.”
“Okay, see you soon?”
“I’ll be back in New York next week,” Sabina says before she hangs up, scrambling to collect all of her bags and coats she’s scattered across her compartment. Travel’s a bitch.
—
“You know, people usually greet their guests.”
“What the hell?” Sabina’s bags land with a thud on the floor, her hand reaching for the gun in her waistband.
Jane steps out from the shadows of her living room, hands out in front of her. “Sab, chill, it’s just me.”
“Shit. Jane, why would you even..? Why are you even here? How did you even get in?” Sabina’s questions rush out one after another as she clicks the safety back on her gun, securing in the safe before she does anything stupid.
“Elena told me you’d be back. I figured we should catch up. It’s been a while.” Jane looks indifferent as she glances around Sabina’s apartment. “I used the key that was underneath your doormat. You should probably get rid of that.”
“Is Elena here too? She’s not gonna jump out of my shower, is she?” Sabina crosses her arms, voice low.
“Actually,” Elena’s voice carries over from Sabina’s bedroom, where she emerges with an armful of clothes. “She is here.” She throws a leather jacket at Sabina. “Come on, we’re going clubbing.”
—
She’s three drinks in when she realizes she has no idea where Elena is.
“Who?” Jane shouts over the music, her face scrunched up with confusion.
“Elena! Where is she?”
As if on queue, both of their phones chime with a text from Elena. “She says don’t worry about her, she’ll be back tomorrow morning. Eggplant emoji?”
“Ew, gross, gross, and gross.” Sabina shoves Jane’s phone away from her. “I need another drink.”
“How many have you had?”
“Not nearly enough,” Sabina complains, pulling Jane towards the bar with her. She drops her hand once she realizes what she’s doing, shoving it deep inside her pocket. She can feel Jane’s eyes heavy on the back of her neck, but when she turns around, she’s got a new plan. “Let’s get wasted.”
—
Jane throws back her head, laughing in the middle of the dance floor as Sabina grins toothily up at her. It’s hot and the room whirls into a blur of multicolored lights and clouds of smoke. Someone bumps into Sabina and she presses against Jane, clumsily leaning against her as she tries not to spill her drink.
Jane’s hand is tight again Sabina’s arm, burning hot where she’s holding her up. “Alright, love?”
Sabina nods, then shakes her head. “I can’t believe Elena’s hooking up right now. S’weird.”
Jane looks down at her, her eyes dark. Sabina thinks she says something, but she can’t quite hear her over the music, so she just nods her head, throwing back the rest of her drink.
—
Her hands shake as she tries to light up a cigarette, pulling her jacket around her tighter.
“Cold?”
“Mmm, a little.” They’re waiting for a ride, standing outside of the club underneath a light drizzle. The rain’s sobered Sabina up a little, but she’s still nursing a slight buzz. Jane slings an arm around her shoulders, tucking Sabina underneath her arm in a way that does nothing for the feeling growing in her stomach.
The cab ride back to her apartment is mostly silent, filled with quiet glances Sabina knows has to mean something, anything.
—
“Do you want this?”
“Holy fuck, please, yes,” Sabina whines, Jane’s thigh between her legs and her hands against her shoulders, pressing her against the closed door.
Sabina leads them to her bedroom, losing her jacket and shirt in the process. Her pants get stuck around her feet, leaving them both laughing. It’s dark and she leaves the lamp off. If she can’t see it, maybe it means it never happened.
Jane pushes her down against the bed, but Sabina pauses before she can do anything else. She wants this. She needs this. “Below the neck, s’okay? I don’t need…I don’t—”
“Sabina...” Jane murmurs, breath hot against her shoulder while her eyes give away her hesitation.
“Please. Just this once.”
—
She’s never been able to run off a hangover, but that’s never stopped her from trying. She runs off the empty bed she woke up to, the pounding headache that matches the searing ache that covers her. She runs off all of the memories of the night before, each jarring step trying to erase the feeling of Jane’s hands everywhere, the way her name sounds when it spills out of Jane’s lips.
Her run does nothing, just leaves her puking on the side of sixth avenue, doubled over with her hands on her knees. She showers with the lights off, fingers tracing the bruises littered across her chest, places only Jane would know. Her eyes are rimmed red by the time she gets out, something deep and unsettling stirring in her chest, something wildly out of control.
—
“Sabina, honey. You’ve got to take better care of yourself, looks at these hands!” Saint hold up her hand as proof, in the middle of bandaging the numerous scrapes and bruises that cover it.
She shrugs, shifting in her seat. “Just been busy, I guess.”
“Busy?” Saint asks, placing the last bandage across her palm.
“Yeah, missions and stuff. You know.” Sabina pushes her hair out of her face, sliding off of the examination table. She’s violently aware that both she and Saint know she hasn’t had a full mission in at least two weeks. The punching bag in her apartment is stained with flecks of blood—she goes without gloves because she just wants to feel something , anything.
“Sabina.”
She pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself, alright?”
She gives him a thumbs-up in response, heading back out into the rest of the base before he can say anything else.
(She finds his business card in her pocket a few days later, “professional psychiatrist” highlighted as an obnoxious reminder. She scoffs, shoving it deeper into her pocket.)
—
“Alright, security team at 1 o’clock. Headed your way, Jane.”
“On it.”
Sabina snakes around the shelves, gun held tight to her chest. She pauses, listening for Bosley’s instructions over the comms, pushing her sweaty hair off of her face. Then she’s off, sprinting through the warehouse and dodging bullets flying past her. Elena’s saying something about how she’s grabbed the hard drive and they need to get out of there.
Sabina grunts in response, slamming her elbow into lingering guard as she slides past him. Boz is parked all the way in the back, by the loading docks, and Sabina’s fighting the whole way there. Elena’s getting a little desperate, not trying to hide the edge of concern that seeps across the comms.
“Almost there,” Sabina pants reassuringly, as she shimmies her way up onto one of the shelving units, trying to find a better vantage point so she can orient herself. She’s a few rows away from the back door and when she looks back, Jane’s close behind.
“Come on, girls. You’ve got 30 seconds to get out of there.” Bosley’s voice is loud and clear, even over the blaring alarms echoing throughout the warehouse. Sabina jumps off of the shelf and hits the ground running, throwing herself to the ground so she can slide underneath the door before it closes.
Then the explosion hits.
—
Bosley’s saying something to her, brow creased, but Sabina’s ears are ringing too much to hear anything.
“What? I can’t,” she gestures to her ears, staggering to her feet as Elena pulls her up.
“—is she?”
She coughs, mouth filled with ash as it dawns on her. “Jane? Where is she?”
“That’s what we’re asking you,” Elena says, tapping away on her tablet.
“She was right behind me!” Sabina wrenches her arm out of Elena’s grip, as she turns back towards the warehouse, eyes wild. “Jane? Jane?!”
“Sabina. Do not go back in there. We’ll get her out, safely , I promise.” Bosley steps in front of her, voice serious just as the roof shifts, sending a cloud of embers their way.
“No, no, I can’t.” Sabina sidesteps her, trying to scout out an entry point. There’s a broken window to her left and she jumps through, immediately overwhelmed by the smoke and flames that surround her. “Jane?!” Something moves to her right and she whirls around, pulling her shirt over her mouth as her lungs fill with smoke.
It’s Jane, climbing unsteadily to her feet as she grabs onto one of the shelving racks. “Over here.”
“Holy shit. Jane.” Sabina could collapses right there, out of sheer relief, but she focuses on getting Jane out of there first. Elena’s somehow opened one of the side doors for her and she slips Jane’s arm around her shoulders, pulling them both out into the fresh air. They collapse on the pavement, Boz and Elena hovering around them as Sabina hacks up lungfuls of smoky air, eyeing Jane at her side. “You’re okay?”
Jane huffs out a laugh, arms streaked with soot. “Of course, just a little fire, nothing too bad.”
Sabina has the urge to reach out, to hold her, but she curls her hands at her sides. They head back to the safe house in uncomfortable silence.
—
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
Jane whirls around, shoulders tense as she sets down her last weapon. Sabina knew she shouldn’t have, but she couldn’t resist following her to storage, under the guise of checking on her teammates. “Sabina.” Jane’s voice is tight, clipped, “I said I was fine and I am, so stop asking, okay?”
“I’m just making sure you’re okay. What’s so wrong with that?” Sabina can hear her voice rise in pitch, leftover aggression from their mission still thrumming through her body.
“I didn’t need you to save me, alright? Jane retorts, arms crossed.
Sabina seethes, throwing her hands in the air. “So sue me then, because I apparently care too much about keeping my partners safe.”
“I had it under control.” Jane explains. “Unlike you,” she adds, and judging from the way she bites her lip afterwards, Sabina knows she meant it to sting.
Sabina steps closer, voice low. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Jane looks like she’s about to retort back, but her eyes widen in surprise. “Have you been crying?”
“Yeah, sure, okay?” Sabina glares at her, nails digging into her closed palms. “Guess it doesn’t matter to you though, since you don’t need anyone to care about you.”
Jane’s expression flickers to concern before she can steel herself, reaching out to touch Sabina’s shoulder. “Sabina, I—“
“Forget about it.” She spits back, turning around before Jane can see the tears burning in her eyes. “This is exactly why I never should have done this. ”
She backs out of the doorway, running away again while Jane just stands back and lets her. Sabina wonders if it would hurt more if Jane chased behind her, instead of just letting her go.
—
Sabina shows up drunk to the next pre-briefing, the smell of tequila on her breath and sunglasses just daring Bosley to kick her out. She does, eyes filled with sympathy Sabina never asked for or wanted.
She storms out of the meeting room, hands shoved deep into her pockets as she makes her way back to her room. She’ll pack and leave, before any of them even notice she’s gone.
“Stop.”
Her door is halfway open, but Jane’s voice stops her in her tracks. “What do you want, Jane?” Sabina doesn’t even attempt to fight the exhaustion that seeps into her voice.
“Stop doing this to yourself. All of it. The drinking, the running away.”
“Yeah,” Sabina challenges, hands shaking, “and what are you gonna do about it?”
Jane wraps her arms around her, tone not matching her actions. “God, Sabina. Just fucking stop, okay? You’re not going to get anywhere like this.”
As much as she tries not to, Sabina sinks into her embrace, the pair making their way down to the floor. “Why are you doing this to me?” It’s half a whine, but her trembling lip gives her away.
“I care about you, you idiot,” Jane huffs out a wavering laugh, hands on Sabina’s shoulders so she can make eye contact with her. “And you need to stop doing this to yourself.”
“I know.” Sabina tries, “I just…” she’s crying now, messy hot tears that stream down her face, that she swipes away with her palm. “I care about you Jane, I care about you so, so much.”
Jane’s knee is pressed against hers. “I know, love. I know.”
“An-and I,” Sabina gives a shuddering breath, glancing away from Jane’s deep eyes.
“It’s alright. Just let it out.”
“No.” Sabina shakes her off, turns so she can look at her fully. “I care about you because I want to be with you, Jane. And it just, hurts so fucking much.” She’s whispering now, not quite sure she can even trust her own voice as she rakes her hand through her hair.. “Because I know it’ll never happen and it’s probably better if it doesn’t. If I don’t get attached, it never means anything, right?”
Jane gives her a sad, long look. “Oh, Sabina, you know it doesn’t work like that, right?” Sabina just nods, sniffling as she leans against the wall. Jane continues, “I know it doesn’t work that way, because I’ve tried and tried to distance myself from the same thing. And here I am.”
“You’ve…?”
“Sabina, it’s always been you.”