#punkcop

She was there when Sarah woke up in the middle of the night, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing back here, Sarah?”

Sarah ran a palm across her eyes, blinked into the darkness. That’s right, she’d come stumbling back to Beth’s apartment. It had seemed like a good idea when she was God-knows-how-many drinks in.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” she groaned. “I missed you, didn’t I?”

“You never knew me,” Beth said flatly. “You miss the idea of me.”

“Maybe,” Sarah conceded. “But I understand you now. How you could try and try and it was never enough.”

She threw a hand over her eyes and finally let herself cry.

“I keep fuckin’ up,” she choked.

After a second, she felt Beth’s hand pressing gently against hers.

Wait. Beth’s hand.

Sarah jumped up to sitting, rubbed at her eyes. She could just barely make her out through the dark, but… she could feel the weight of her on the bed. She reached out and gasped as she made contact with Beth’s shoulder.

“Beth,” she whimpered. “I thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, Sarah. Doesn’t mean I could just leave.”

Sarah gripped Beth’s shoulder, terrified that she’d disappear if she let go. Her face was visible now, Sarah could see her looking back. She was so sad.

The strange girl cocks her head at Beth, stepping closer - that stalking gait that all of the world’s natural predators adopt in the face of (potential) prey. Her grin stays fixed. “You haven’t taken off yet; props for the bravado.”

Beth shakes her head, the lack of blood in her system acting like a box rattling around in her brain, knocking everything askew. “You can’t smell it on me? I’m like you.”

Monster, monster, some little voice in Beth’s head chants.

The girl scoffs. “Well, you look bloody awful; come for a drink with me?” She punctuates the question with a wink, wraps a conspiratorial arm about Beth’s rapidly thinning shoulders, and leads her away. “I know just the place.”

Thank you!

Sarah closes the door behind her softly, the white fog of the sigh that passes her lips hanging in the chilled air as she walks off the stoop. Her bag and her heart heavier than when she had arrived earlier in the day. It was their month anniversary and though Beth had been excited for it, Sarah had been dreading it for the last two weeks. 

She knew better than to get attached to her marks, but there was just something about the fragile detective that had Sarah feeling more than she should. “Fuckin’ get it together,” She murmurs to herself, eyes flickering around the dark neighbor hood, head low. 

It was supposed to be an easy hit, the woman had just gotten out of a rough marriage with some posh prick, made off with a lot of money and a decent house, emotionally compromised and wealthy, Sarah’s favorite victim. But she never expected Beth to be so soft, so warm and utterly trusting. 

The first week was the easiest; ‘accidentally’ bump into her, ask her out to lunch, spin the sob story that no longer hurt and watch her comfort and then do the same. Week two had been harder; explore her interests, go along on jogs, offer ‘homemade’ protein shakes and even agree to go to the shooting range. But the way Beth’s body seemed to fit perfectly against Sarah’s back when she was adjusting her stance was enough to make the crook melt a little. 

Come week three Sarah asks Beth to make it official and even though the detective is hesitant, she says yes and there’s a spark of warmth in the punk’s chest. Week four starts the count down, three more and it would be time to cut and run and the thought makes Sarah feel guilty but then Beth is pulling her close and kissing her hard and it’s forgotten for just long enough for this all to seem real. 

And then the month is gone and as Sarah lays next to a sleeping Beth, timing the snores to make sure her faux lover is lost to the dream realm. Then it’s all action, throwing on clothes before making her way to the safe that Beth keeps in the office. The code is easy enough to break and she pockets everything from the stacks of bills to the bottles of pills Beth swears she’s stopped taking. 

Once she’s done she pauses, hand hovering over the door knob before she slowly turns around, padding back to the office, pulling a sheet of printer paper off its stack, scribbling a note along the small piece of paper. 

I’m sorry, but this is something I had to do. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do hope that one day you may be able to forgive me. These last few weeks have been amazing and I hate that I have to leave. I know it’s only been six weeks but I feel for you more than I ever have for anyone else and I know you probably don’t believe me but…I love you. 

Don’t come looking for me. 

She folds it up gently as she makes her way back to the bedroom, laying it on her pillow before she’s impulsively moving to the other side to brush a barely there kiss to Beth’s forehead. 

“I’m sorry,” 

C. A moment’s respite.

(Werewolf AU)

K. On the edge of consciousness.

–

Sarah’s head is propped against the back of the chair, at an angle uncomfortable enough that it feels almost like she’s leaning on someone’s shoulder; she feels like her chest has been crushed, like she’ll never take a full breath again.

“She did it for you,” a voice - familiar and also not - whispers at her ear, “just like I did, even though I didn’t know you.”

“We won,” Sarah grumbles, tossing her head and trying to shake the feeling that Beth is pressed up against her, “shouldn’t you be at bloody peace or some shit - leaving me alone?”

“She is,” Beth says, and Sarah feels the cool brush of fingers combing her hair back away from her face, “and I will be, too; rest, Sarah. You’re right… We won.”