These Dreams

[bringstheheat]

Normally Mick didn't mind waking up. Waking up meant hot coffee, salty bacon and whatever else he could lay his hands on in the galley of the ship before the rest of the wolves descended. Gideon had long since given up any and all attempts to feed him anything that was low-fat, gluten-free (he'd almost burned the galley to a crisp for that shit) or anything else that resembled healthy.

Nope. A man needed caffeine, fat and carbs to get through the day and keep from killing anyone.

So why was he so reluctant to get out of bed?

Why was he recalling memories of a lithe body in his arms, a cascade of blonde hair and laughter that crawled up his spine and made him feel whole again?

Sara. As he passed by Len's bunk, watching the two of them playing cards it hits the big arsonist like a fucking freight train. Another life. Another timeline. Whatever it was, he and Sara had been together. In love. She'd been his fierce, bright star and he'd adored her for it right up until she glanced up at him, cool and assessing and it had been like a fucking heartstrike.

She didn't know.

Mick could recall years of them together, from the day that he'd first stolen a kiss until the day he'd sucked it up and dropped to one knee to ask her for forever and she remembered none of it. Nothing.

He avoided them both after that. Actively. Dodging Len and keeping his distance from Sara as best he could so it didn't trip anything else up. Not that it worked. Snart was too perceptive and Sara too smart not to pick up on the fact that something was wrong.

He had loved her. Still loved her.

Mick was completely and utterly fucked.

Comments

[thecanarylives]

He's not fine. She'd be an idiot to believe him. But what the hell can she do?

"Yeah. I'm feeling better. Probably just need some rest," she shrugs, hesitating at the touch to her hand. "I'll um... I'll probably just nap here. Don't worry about it."

She offers a smile, though it hardly feels helpful. Shit.

[bringstheheat]

No. It's not very helpful, but Mick probably shouldn't have said anything in the first place. So he does his best to summon up a small smile for her. Some kind of reassurance that he isn't aching inside, that he wants so much to reach out and draw her close.

"Yeah. Yeah, you rest up. I'll.."

He'll what? Bang around in the engine room? Work on his gun?

Hell if he knows. Mick drags a hand across his head. He doesn't have anything else to say. Nothing that will help at least. He wants her so badly and he can't bring himself to say a damned thing about it.

[thecanarylives]

The smile he musters doesn't do much to help. In fact, it twists something in her chest - and when he runs his hand over his head, the simple action sparks that ache that's been trailing her for so long.

It's him. She's been missing him, somehow, though he's been a few doors away the whole time.

"You could stay," she says quietly. "If... you want."

[bringstheheat]

The invitation clearly wasn't expected and Mick blinks up at her for a moment. She doesn't remember their life together, but maybe it's something that she remembers any of it. Maybe it's enough.

"Yeah. I can stay. So long as you rest a little." Just sitting with her is a start. They can sort out things from there and since she doesn't seem too bothered when he slips a little, maybe they'll be okay.

Maybe. Mick's never been a lucky man, but for Sara he's willing to try.

[thecanarylives]

"Cross my heart," she replies, offering another smile and curling up into the cot, leaving enough room for him to lie next to her. She's always been comfortable around him. Even in the beginning. There was something about Len and Mick that felt familiar when they were all together. Drinking, dancing, generally making trouble.

It feels better when he's closer. Warm and solid and like... home. Which doesn't make sense in the least, but it's calming as all hell.

[bringstheheat]

She was always good at surprising him like that, at least in the life he remembered. Little gestures to remind Mick that he was not just welcome but wanted and that was hell and gone from what he was used to.

So Mick doesn't question or second guess, he simply strips out of his jacket and crawls onto the cot with her. It's close, but they make the space work. Sara can tuck up against his chest and after a moment of hesitation, he rests a hand gently on her shoulder. It feels like coming home, like he's finally found everything that he's been missing in his life.

Not as perfect as it had been, but well on it's way to it and as her breathing begins to slow and even out and she finds sleep, Mick does the same.