you don't know you like i do
rating: g
characters: carina, sarah
a/n: more or less for the summer ficathon...i just failed to get it in on time
summary: fooling yourself can only get you so far
Carina has always had a knack for knowing what Sarah wants before she’s even aware of it.
It’s not luck and it’s not reading between the lines. It’s not knowing her better than anyone else, either. It’s simply that Carina accepts Sarah for who she is, even if she doesn’t. Nothing more, nothing less.
This is no different because when Carina sends her a ticket to Sao Paolo and no note, she comes.
It’s true that old habits die hard but Carina’s been around the block enough times to know that if you really want something to go away, it does. So when she finds Sarah down in baggage claim with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a carry-on duffel that’s big enough, Carina’s knows she’s on the right track.
Carina means to survey the damage first, wade in the water before she takes a dive but when Sarah chucks her bag to her and takes the keys to the jeep, it hits too close to home.
The car ride is a blur and before she remembers everything is not alright with her friend, they’re poolside at the resort into their third mojito. She forces herself to sober up for a second when the nostalgia dies down, says “Walker” nice and calm. It doesn’t fool Sarah for a second, she feels her name laced with a blend of concern and two parts curiosity. She gives Carina a half-assed smile because she’s had this conversation countless times since her ‘accident,’ exhaling sharply as she shrugs it off.
That conversation ends there, not that it needs to go on.
The way she constantly fiddles with the rings on her finger like she’s trying to make them fit just right, Carina already knows they don’t belong.
It’s mostly an accident that Carina ends up calling Sarah when she gets shot in the shoulder during a bust in Miami. Mostly because she’s not completely guilty that she mixes up Sarah’s number with her handler’s, accident because she did mean to call her handler.
She expects Sarah to relay the message to headquarters and that would be that. Carina calls her handler herself after, but Sarah is always really thorough. Being a housewife wouldn’t change that.
The wound is mostly superficial and although her shoulder is quietly killing her, it could be worse if the bullet didn’t nick the edge of her Kevlar. The bullet is gone but the gaping hole is just cleaned with a stinging douse of alcohol and a clump of gauze on top. She’s too tired to try and wrap it up nicely so she settles for sleeping on her stomach to avoid aggravating it more.
What she doesn’t expect is Sarah on her doorstep at the crack of dawn and fussing over her injury like it’s life threatening or something. Even so, the part where Sarah straight up drugs her for the better part of the next day is unsurprising.
When Carina comes to, there’s no sign of the mess she made last night, a covered up plate that’s presumably her dinner on the kitchen table, and a note with “you’re welcome” written on it.
It feels like old times.
She’s going under deep cover indefinitely, until things pan out and she has a viable opening. Before she becomes Tamara Wayland for however long, Carina makes a pit stop in Burbank. The premise is a visit to say goodbye to a friend but it’s planned like pseudo extraction of sorts.
It’s been a solid year since everything happened and if Sarah hasn’t made up her mind by now, Carina’s going to help her along.
Carina knows Sarah’s been trying to make this work, this life that she possibly genuinely wanted at one point. She likes to play hero and sacrifice herself for some greater good but in this case, there is none. Pretending everything’s alright is only going to make things worse.
The reality is that whoever wanted this life then isn’t here now.
Truth be told, Carina’s not even sure who that person was. She looked like Sarah, talked like Sarah, walked like Sarah but she isn’t Sarah - isn’t her Sarah.
Her Sarah wouldn’t want monogrammed towels or movie night Wednesdays or a house with a picket fence. And for the first time in a long time, Carina sees her old friend she lost along the way. Memory loss or not, she owes this much to her Sarah.
So before she goes, she leaves a one way ticket in a sealed envelope on the counter.
Carina doesn’t even make it out the door when Sarah calls her name and chucks her bag at her.
characters: carina, sarah
a/n: more or less for the summer ficathon...i just failed to get it in on time
summary: fooling yourself can only get you so far
Carina has always had a knack for knowing what Sarah wants before she’s even aware of it.
It’s not luck and it’s not reading between the lines. It’s not knowing her better than anyone else, either. It’s simply that Carina accepts Sarah for who she is, even if she doesn’t. Nothing more, nothing less.
This is no different because when Carina sends her a ticket to Sao Paolo and no note, she comes.
It’s true that old habits die hard but Carina’s been around the block enough times to know that if you really want something to go away, it does. So when she finds Sarah down in baggage claim with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a carry-on duffel that’s big enough, Carina’s knows she’s on the right track.
Carina means to survey the damage first, wade in the water before she takes a dive but when Sarah chucks her bag to her and takes the keys to the jeep, it hits too close to home.
The car ride is a blur and before she remembers everything is not alright with her friend, they’re poolside at the resort into their third mojito. She forces herself to sober up for a second when the nostalgia dies down, says “Walker” nice and calm. It doesn’t fool Sarah for a second, she feels her name laced with a blend of concern and two parts curiosity. She gives Carina a half-assed smile because she’s had this conversation countless times since her ‘accident,’ exhaling sharply as she shrugs it off.
That conversation ends there, not that it needs to go on.
The way she constantly fiddles with the rings on her finger like she’s trying to make them fit just right, Carina already knows they don’t belong.
It’s mostly an accident that Carina ends up calling Sarah when she gets shot in the shoulder during a bust in Miami. Mostly because she’s not completely guilty that she mixes up Sarah’s number with her handler’s, accident because she did mean to call her handler.
She expects Sarah to relay the message to headquarters and that would be that. Carina calls her handler herself after, but Sarah is always really thorough. Being a housewife wouldn’t change that.
The wound is mostly superficial and although her shoulder is quietly killing her, it could be worse if the bullet didn’t nick the edge of her Kevlar. The bullet is gone but the gaping hole is just cleaned with a stinging douse of alcohol and a clump of gauze on top. She’s too tired to try and wrap it up nicely so she settles for sleeping on her stomach to avoid aggravating it more.
What she doesn’t expect is Sarah on her doorstep at the crack of dawn and fussing over her injury like it’s life threatening or something. Even so, the part where Sarah straight up drugs her for the better part of the next day is unsurprising.
When Carina comes to, there’s no sign of the mess she made last night, a covered up plate that’s presumably her dinner on the kitchen table, and a note with “you’re welcome” written on it.
It feels like old times.
She’s going under deep cover indefinitely, until things pan out and she has a viable opening. Before she becomes Tamara Wayland for however long, Carina makes a pit stop in Burbank. The premise is a visit to say goodbye to a friend but it’s planned like pseudo extraction of sorts.
It’s been a solid year since everything happened and if Sarah hasn’t made up her mind by now, Carina’s going to help her along.
Carina knows Sarah’s been trying to make this work, this life that she possibly genuinely wanted at one point. She likes to play hero and sacrifice herself for some greater good but in this case, there is none. Pretending everything’s alright is only going to make things worse.
The reality is that whoever wanted this life then isn’t here now.
Truth be told, Carina’s not even sure who that person was. She looked like Sarah, talked like Sarah, walked like Sarah but she isn’t Sarah - isn’t her Sarah.
Her Sarah wouldn’t want monogrammed towels or movie night Wednesdays or a house with a picket fence. And for the first time in a long time, Carina sees her old friend she lost along the way. Memory loss or not, she owes this much to her Sarah.
So before she goes, she leaves a one way ticket in a sealed envelope on the counter.
Carina doesn’t even make it out the door when Sarah calls her name and chucks her bag at her.