knowthyexits | (no subject)

It's difficult to avoid the clinic when she has a doctor at her disposal and she needs to verify that her treatment hasn't gone on a collision course to nowhere. She's made her appointment and is now hovering around the clinic as she waits for Rory to get in, her head bent low. She's treated her wrist by herself, patched up the wounds as best as she can, but it's not her physical being that she's concerned about.

An entire restaurant's worth of people heard her being called Sarah Connor.

There's not much wiggle room when it comes to escaping that accusation. She might as well abandon her alias, at this point, because her worst fears have come to pass and there's nowhere that she can run. She could go to the second island, but she needs to treat the cancer and it's difficult to do that, there. It's terrifying, but there's a chance that Sarah may need to suck it up, face her fears, and simply live as the woman she actually is.

She adjusts her hold on her forearm, deciding to leave that particularly delightful existential crisis for later, when she's not waiting for the ramifications of the attack to come falling down around her ears.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She stares him down, unable to read through his words. It's not new. She's become accustomed to the way he talks about his life like there's a dark pall hanging over it, but she's never understood why. She's as much in danger as he is, as far as she can tell and it's not easy, but she still works, she still makes tentative friendships, and she still, occasionally, stays.

Not that Charley should thank her for that considering the outcome she had brought with her decision, but she'd chosen her emotions over pragmatism and even John had noticed how happy she'd been.

"Fine," she says with a nod of her head. "Then here's the deal, Caliban Leandros, the most difficult man I've met. And that's saying something coming from me, considering how difficult I am," she points out, gripping the bed with her good hand. "I'm not getting any younger. My life isn't getting any safer. You're dangerous. I accept that because you accepted that my life isn't easy, but god, am I tired of being pushed away. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to anyone," she clarifies, with heavy emphasis on the word. "So when you're ready to stop walking away, I'm going to be here. You take your reality as it comes," she says, genuinely understanding that if he thinks he needs to do this, then he needs to.

It's been how she's had to operate for years.

"I won't stop loving you," she informs him patiently. "And I won't hide the fact that yes, if you weren't so intent on convincing me how crucial it is that you run away, there's parts of you I want to know better. Do I think you're going to come around?" She gives a helpless smile (aware of the depressing reality they live in), shrugging her shoulders. "If I'm Sarah Connor now, for all the world to see, and I'm going to be attacked anyway, then I'm tired of not saying what I should. You can walk out that fucking door, but you're going to do it knowing that I love you and I will be here and that I will fight anything," she finishes, with an edge of stubborn determination.

All of that would have been really moving, I'm sure, if she hadn't been so completely misinterpreting the issue. I guess it still was, that she bothered to say all that to my face, but more than anything, I just felt fucking frustrated.

"Sarah," I sighed, and scrubbed both hands over my face. Fine, if she wanted to play at being blunt, I could do that. It was like second nature. "I'm not standing here all torn up, crying on the inside because I don't know how to let people in. I'm not pushing you away because I'm afraid to be vulnerable, or whatever Lifetime movie bullshit you've conjured up in your head. I'm pushing you away because I am a dude, I have a dick, I will want to fuck you with it, and putting my sperm in anybody is a really bad idea. Okay? It's got nothing to do with feelings or not being held enough as a kid or whatever the fuck. It's pragmatism."

I pointed at her. "And now that you know, you can go form a club with Sookie, who did the same fucking thing you're doing now, which was the same fucking thing George did to me back home. I don't like it but I can't help it, and it's just the way it is."

"I'm sorry, this is all about sex?" she echoes, giving him an incredulous look that borders half on being severely pissed off. She shakes her head, trying to get the surprise to fade away because this is not what she was expecting the issue to be about. "Look, I get pragmatism. I do. And I'm not saying you need to come around. I'm just saying that if you ever need anything, I'll be there. I'll be better at helping if you need a second person to wield a gun, but I'd...I'd try if it was anything else."

That said, though, she needs to put some distance between them herself. She'd though...well, she'd thought it was about more than just...she doesn't even want to think about it.

It wasn't about sex, not really, the sex just happened to be the really inconvenient part. Surely she had to understand that for a guy my age, it was better to have the distance there than to let something develop and then try to resist. That was just dangerous, and I wasn't going to do it.

I sighed. "I know all that, Sarah. I've known that for a long time. I'm just telling you why I act like I don't know what the fuck I want, that's all."

"Okay," she says in reply, giving him a look of understanding. "Cal, okay," she promises, because if nothing else, she wants him to know that. "Look, I've lived through too much shit to get too emotional about this," she admits. "But better said than festering. So, okay, and I'm glad you're okay and I'm fine. I'll be fine," she corrects herself because right now, she's not.

She's injured and she has to pick a chemo treatment and she's lost the safety net of her cover, but she'll be fine. She has to be because it's the only thing she's ever known in perseverance.