bloodstained conduits, sarafatima
β£ ΰ³ β€ finally posting my secret santa gift to my friend carla ( @divorcingjimmatthews ), as well as an attempt to get other people more interested in this pairing consisting of two women used and altered by the almost living entity of the town, whose storylines and arcs parallel one another in a way that's almost impossible to notice.
set immediately post-s3 finale and written before season 4. my personal interpretation of how their first interaction post-birth would go, and a quick blurb through fatima's eyes. no dialogue. divider by @bonnieknowsbest
the sight of the slimey clump that horrifying woman pulled out of her was etched into her mind. it was all she could feel as ellis placed his hands on her to lift her out of the creaky-wooden bed she'd been confined to. it was all she could see as kenny moved in front of her to ask her if she felt any pain. it was all she could hear as someone pulled the clinic doors open and slammed them shut.
that was until she noticed a wine-red stain, vowen into thick, pink strands of wool. the sight of it made her ill, reminders of her fingers in nicky's bullet-wound and tilly's final whispers suppressing the sight of what she'd given birth to. it was only then that she came to, with ellis' hand on her shoulder, kenny's concerned gaze resting over her, kristi's fingers moving hurriedly across various and marielle's voice becoming clearer. the wearer of the pink sweater was a person now too β one she'd resented, and feared, and silently wanted gone. sara's presence once symbolised a painful reminder of the fact that they were never truly safe. her actions made them feel unsafe, and the anomaly of her survival angered all those who wanted to believe that they were still fully themselves, and that this place couldn't truly take that from them.
nobody in this room wanted her there, not really. regardless of it, not one person did anything to tell her to leave. kenny didn't look at her, kristi passed by her several times and ellis even met her gaze once. the anger was still there, the fear too. but now, something else lingered in the air β a deep gratitude, a silent understanding, perhaps even the recognition that the woman laying on the sterile sheets of the clinic now resembled the girl with bloodstains all over more than she resembled anyone present.
hollow brown eyes moved from the stain on sara's sweater to still-wild blue eyes. neither of them said a word β fatima was too exhausted to speak, and sara knew her presence must've aroused some level of confusion. in that brief moment, all that existed were two women, with monsters lingering in their ears and under their skin. there was no gratitude, no fear and no anger.
fatima didn't know how to live with the blood that now soiled her hands, and sara probably didn't have the answers on how to do that either β but nathan's gasps for air couldn't have been that different from tilly's. the blood spurting from nathan's neck must've been no different than tilly's either. the women whose hands were stained with their blood would never be as cheerful and warm as they once were, sara would never lean against the counter in the diner and offer the newcomers a warm smile, and fatima would never get to wrap her favorite sweater around a girl she'd never quite got on with it β but they'd carry on. perhaps in this town, that was all they could do.
