#sarajlance

[hermarks-a1]

@sarajlance​ said: “  i have nothing left to give.  ”

“  that’s  called  working  too  much.  ”    she  jokes,  light  shoulder  bump  given  to  the  other  woman  before  she  gets  more  comfortable  in  her  seat.  it’s  a  familiar  feeling  ---  drained  of  energy,  emotion,  time.  last  one  sounds  ironic  considering  her  condition,  yet  there’s  no  denying  that  somehow  that  never  is  enough  either.    “  you  might  be  in  need  of  some  me  time.  ”    adds  eventually  ---  worked  wonders  with  her,  maybe  it  can  be  an  useful  advice  for  sara  too.    “  well,  my  time  off  was  actually  quite  eventful  and  not  really  about  me,  but  you  get  the  gist  of  it.  ”    moving  across  the  world  to  accidentally  solve  a  crime  can  be  considered  as  a  vacation?  she  doubts  it,  but  to  each  their  own  right?    “  or  maybe  you  just  need  a  change  of  scenery  to  find  the  spark  again.  ”

[infiniitefrequency]

@sarajlance​ asked: “i’m worried about you.” post-trauma sentence starters | accepting

“Awww tin man, you do have a heart.” Using humor to deflect, class Tommy. He just shrugged it off, toying with the hem of his shirt.

“It’s not a big deal, the nightmares come and go. I barely even remember what they’re about.”

He said, like a liar.

[infiniitefrequency]

@sarajlance

❝   YOU   didn’t   do   anything   to   piss   anybody   off,   Tommy.   ❞   That   was   all   her.   She   could   feel   it   in   her   bones   –   this   deep   ACHE   akin   to   the   sensation   of   a   break.   The   pressure   between   her   limbs   was   building   with   tension   (   an   indication   that   she   was   WRONG   under   normal   circumstances,   but   these   weren’t   so   NORMAL,   were   they   ?   ),   budding   beneath   swollen   glands   &   heated   skin,   ready   to   BURST.   She   was   going   to   PAY   for   the   decisions   she   made,   but   the   ALTERNATIVE   was   letting   HELL   run   its   course   without   an   INKLING   of   the   truth   to   quell   the   STORM   brewing   &   that   was   enough   to   keep   her   headed   in   the   direction   she   was   in.   Winn   was   just   stop   ONE   on   the   Tour   de   Complication   (   the   EASIEST   if   there   ever   was   such   a   thing   )   &   she’d   already   begun   looking   for   EVERY   reason   to   RUN.

Fingers   brushed   the   bridge   of   her   nose   gently   as   she   rose   to   her   feet,   pulling   the   coat   around   her   shoulders   in   a   silence   she   figured   he   knew   all   too   well.   SHE   WAS   THINKING   OF   EVERYTHING   –   of   nothing   –   all   at   once.   A   brain   that   went   a   mile   a   minute   was   of   no   use,   but   she   couldn’t   take   her   foot   off   the   gas   long   enough   for   her   to   slow   down   &   make   SENSE   of   what   was   unfolding.   She   thought,   after   the   first   20   minutes,   that   it’d   be   simpler.   What   she   WANTED   was   to   come   up   with   a   plan,   map   it   out,   &   be   ready   to   lift   off   with   it.   What   she   got   INSTEAD   was   a   pile   of   EMOTION   she’d   BURIED   years   ago   &   a   streamline   of   thoughts   so   USELESS   it   would’ve   been   COMICAL   had   it   not   been   so   IMPORTANT   in   the   moment.

Happiness,   anger,   confusion   –   a   HEAP   of   emotions   all   fighting   for   a   chance   to   break   out   from   beneath   the   porcelain   mask   she   wore   with   ease   yet   none   of   the   screaming   LOUD   ENOUGH   to   make   a   crack.   HOW   DID   SHE   EXPLAIN   THAT   TO   HIM   ?   How   did   she,   someone   so   COLLECTED   despite   her   better   instincts   pushing   her   towards   a   BREAK,   explain   to   someone   so   LOST   that   she   wasn’t   sure   WHAT   to   feel   ?   Or   what   was   more   IMPORTANT   ?   ❝   I   AM   happy   you’re   back,   ❞   she   began,   the   softness   returning   to   her   eyes   as   lips   curled   into   a   smile.   Despite   what   ANYBODY   thought,   she   WAS   happy   to   see   him.   She   was   ALWAYS   happy   to   see   him   –   it   never   mattered   what   he   did,   how   BADLY   he   screwed   up,   or   to   what   extent   of   the   law   he   found   himself   in   trouble   with:   SHE   WAS   ALWAYS   HAPPY   TO   SEE   TOMMY   MERLYN.   Some   things   –   they   never   change.   ❝   &   I’m   going   to   find   out   what   happened   to   you,   I   promise.   ❞

Words   she   rarely   said.   SHE   PROMISED.   She   had   no   right   to   deliver   such   a   large   portion   of   herself   –   A   PROMISE.   She   barely   stuck   around   long   enough   to   know   when   the   weather   was   going   to   turn,   but   there   she   was.   Promising   him   the   WORLD   in   a   sense.   It   dimmed   her   smile   a   bit   all   the   while   bringing   more   softness   to   the   cool   blue   that   colored   her   eyes.   SHE   PROMISED   –   it   spilled   out   with   an   intensity   she   forgot   she   was   capable   of   &   took   the   breath   from   her   lungs,   leaving   her   gasping   for   air.   SHE   MEANT   IT.      ❝   There’s   a   BIG   BELLY   on   the   way   to   Winns’.   I’ll   be   in   the   hall   whenever   you’re   ready.   ❞

Promises. Tommy didn’t like promises. He tried so hard to never make promises, because he always broke them. I promise you’re the only one for me. I promise I got your back Ollie. I promise I’ll be home by midnight. I promise it meant nothing. I promise it’ll never happen again.

Promises were sugar glass to Tommy Merlyn, couldn’t even hold them without it breaking. But something he was good at, putting on a happy face. Tommy had learned a long time ago, fake it til you make it. So he looked up, smiling.

“Seeing you always makes me smile Sara. Just never thought it’d happen again for me. Especially not this way around ...”

He’d spent so much money searching for them both. Oliver, and Sara. Whispers of sightings, planes he chartered, the time he’d spent. China, Russia, India. All fruitless. He never truly gave up, just the threats from his father, and the pleading from Winn. What choice did he have?

Winn was all he had in those years. Winn and Laurel. This shared trauma they all went through, each thinking they should have done something, could have ...

He was lost in thought. But the mention of food caused his stomach to growl reflexively, and he looked up. It took a moment, before he nodded, smiling again. That Tommy Merlyn smile, “Only if onion rings are on the table too.”

He watched her leave, the door closing behind her, before he took a moment. Looking at his hands, the bandaged cuts. He could still feel the pain of clawing out of his coffin. The taste of the dirt, the way it felt like there was no hope.

Sliding from the bed he nearly fell, catching himself, before straightening. 

A Merlyn doesn’t show weakness

Thanks dad. 

It wasn’t much, but the small bag of clothes there meant the world, he didn’t want to leave in scrubs, feeling like a mental patient fresh on the run. Even if a part of him worried maybe this was all some horrible hallucination ...

Finally dressed and ready, hood up to hide some of the bruising, Tommy slipped out of the room, “Please get me out of here.”