Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sarah didn’t look back as she locked the door with a swift click. Tugging off the light, she marched into the back room where the other mission workers were waiting. The small group had laid their instruments down by their feet. They sat on the ancient beige couches where sinners could come and have one-on-one conversations with the workers; not as if that had mattered much, with their numbers.

She stood in front of the group, studying how Calvin had his hands on his knees and was staring into space. Agatha’s eyes drooped as she covered her mouth to hide a yawn, and poor old Peter was leaning back against the couch with his eyes half-open, chest slowly rising and falling. Only her uncle seemed to be fully awake, bushy brows furrowed as their eyes met. He wasn’t angry, or ashamed—emotions Sarah could have stomached. Instead, she realized as her throat tightened, he was looking at her in pity.

She didn’t want his pity! Not now, when her head was pounding and her eyelids felt as if bags of rocks were weighing them down. No, all Sarah wanted was to curl up in bed, ignore the uncomfortable pit in her stomach, and forget the hurt on Sky’s face before she’d turned away and slammed the door in his face. Maybe it was last time she’d ever see him.

Instinctively, she reached to grab her top button, but found only thread—another reminder of the night she’d had. Sighing quietly, she dropped her hands and settled for laying them in her lap. She swallowed and cleared her throat, watching the other mission workers jolt back to life before she began: “I owe all of you an apology.” She turned her gaze to make sure she could see everyone’s faces. “If I had known Sky Masterson was… was taking me out just to get our mission empty so his friends could host their horrible game, I never would have agreed to go.” Pausing, she softly added, “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Aw, Sarah, it wasn’t your fault,” Calvin said with a shrug. Peter and Agatha murmured in agreement. Arvide nodded, but said nothing as he continued to study Sarah as a scientist did their subject, or an artist their canvas. Either way, it made her uncomfortable, and she shifted on her feet as Calvin continued, “And you would’ve been out with us anyways. Those guys could’ve picked the lock to get in and we wouldn’t’ve known.”

That was true. So many gamblers turned to crime when their debts became too much, resorting to burglary and other heinous acts that sent a shudder up Sarah’s spine. It wasn’t hard to imagine that at least one of them had mastered the art of picking a lock, let alone one as plain as the mission’s. This could have happened any night when the workers weren’t there! And it would have been easier than needing a distraction like taking her all the way to Havana, so maybe—

No, Sarah thought, closing her eyes and shaking her head. It didn’t matter if Sky wasn’t involved in this particular heist, when he was interchangeable with every single gambler that had been. They were all the same until they let themselves be saved by the Lord. And Sky was so far from salvation, Sarah wasn’t sure he could be.

It didn’t matter how wonderful his rum-flavored kisses were, or how her body yearned for his as she drunkenly danced around the courtyard. How gently he’d held her after, kissing her nose with a sotness she wouldn’t have guessed he was capable of. Nor how perfectly her arm had fit into the crevice of his, how she hadn’t wanted to let go when they reached the airport.

No, none of it mattered. Their lives were on different roads, and neither wanted to cross over to the other’s. It was better if she forgot all about Sky Masterson’s sly grin, his dark brown eyes, the way he’d wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close on the plane ride home—

“Sarah?”

Agatha’s voice brought her back to reality, and Sarah reopened her eyes to see the other workers staring at her. A faint pink stained her cheeks as she weakly laughed, praying they couldn’t see the storm raging in her soul. “Sorry. Must have drifted off for a minute.” Swallowing, she quickly added, “But, if I’m this tired, you all must be exhausted. Let’s all get some rest before tomorrow’s prayer meeting, okay?”

She stepped back as the other workers rose from their seats, heading out the room towards the entrance. Only Arvide remained behind, and Sarah had started to head out herself when her uncle softly called, “Sarah, wait.”

Sarah froze, closing her eyes—not from exhaustion, but from dread of what she knew was coming. Again, her hands drifted for her blouse’s top button, and again found nothing; longing for the habit she used to hate, she sighed deeply before turning to face Arvide. “Yes?” she mumbled, crossing her arms and staring down at the floor.

“Look at me.” Arvide’s voice wasn’t cruel, nor demanding, but held the firmness of a teacher scolding a student. Sarah gripped her sleeves but raised her head, meeting her uncle’s eyes with her own. As she feared, they were still full of the same pity as before, and the gnawing pit in her stomach grew. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, the words barely sliding through her gritted teeth.

Arvide shook his head. “You don’t seem to be.”

“I am!” Sarah said with a snap, dropping her arms with her hands tightly balled into fists as she took a step towards the old man. Head pounding, and her vision slightly blurry from exhaustion, she added, “All I want to do is go home and sleep and just… just forget tonight ever happened!” The last words came out with a choke, and tears pricked in her eyes; Sarah blinked, sniffling, and turned back away.

Footsteps echoed off the wooden floor before a gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and soon Sarah’s uncle had pulled her into a hug as she cried into his shoulder. It was childish and immature, something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager, and Sarah from a day ago would have been mortified. That Sarah hadn’t experienced heartbreak, not like this.

“Oh, Uncle Arvide,” she cried, as he rubbed her back, “why him? Why couldn’t he be a normal man?”

“Sarah…” Arvide said, before sighing. “The Lord often leads our heart to strange places, ones we can’t quite understand.” The two pulled apart as he spoke, Sarah’s cheeks streaked with tears, and he continued, “Even to someone like Sky Masterson.”

He raised an eyebrow, going back to studying her face. “You love him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I…” Sarah said, unable to form words. Did she? No, she couldn’t. They’d only met a few days ago! She didn’t even know the man. How could she love someone she’d just met? Even if his kisses made her head swirl and the way he’d embraced her outside the mission had her stomach doing somersaults, that wasn’t love.

What was it, then? Sarah had been attracted to men before—she was only human—but those had stopped as soon as they began. She never would have thought of changing her morals for them, but the magnetic force Sky exuberated had made her wonder on the plane ride home from Havana if she could make an exception. She was a moth, he a flame, and no matter how much she wanted to avoid him she couldn’t.

But could she take the pain that came with loving a gambler? Sarah had seen how her father’s gambling broke her mother, who could only helplessly watch as he spent another day’s wages on the local horse races. She’d held her sisters close the day he came home and confessed he’d lost it all, their parents’ screams and sobs keeping them awake for the rest of the night. Felt the pains of hunger when her mother had explained that they didn’t have enough money for food, and they’d have to go without dinner tonight so they could eat tomorrow.

No, Sarah wouldn’t let herself love a gambler. Her heart didn’t know what her head did, and she wouldn’t let it be shattered like her poor mother’s. Straightening up, Sarah shook her head, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. “No, I don’t.”

Arvide frowned. “You’re this upset over a man you don’t love?” His voice dripped with disbelief.

“It’s just a silly attraction. A.. a test. It’s a test of temptation by the Lord, and one I won’t fail!” Sarah said with as much confidence as she could muster, trying to convince herself as much as her uncle. Arvide’s frown deepened, and he sighed, but Sarah quickly added, “But, Uncle Arvide, it really is quite late. We should both get some sleep before tonight’s prayer meeting.”

Arvide glanced at the clock, grimaced, and slowly nodded. “If you give me a moment, I can get us both a cab. There has to be someone out right now.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, before dropping her head in shame. “And I’m sorry for getting short. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you.”

“Like you said, we’re both tired.” He looked out into the inky darkness of the city, so foreign to daytime creatures like the mission workers, and cleared his throat. “Just wait outside, I need to lock up.”

Sarah nodded, opening the heavy door to step into the cool night air. She gulped down a deep breath, closing her eyes and praying it would help lessen any after effects of the dulce de leche’s. Absent-mindedly, she shoved her hands into her skirt pockets to keep them warm—

And felt a jolt of shock rush through her as something smooth and completely unfamiliar grazed her fingers. Quickly, her fingers laced around something soft and fine, and then slightly firmer; she pulled it out, and opened her palm; her heart sank when she saw the crushed up yellow daisy.

The same one Sky had plucked out of a tossed-out bouquet and placed in an empty metal can, before handing it to Sarah. It wasn’t the first time a man had given her flowers, but it was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced. Something so simple, so gentle, from the man she’d barely been able to stomach hours prior.

The man she’d probably never see again.

She wrapped her fingers around the flower, crushing the petals in her palm. Tears slid down her cheeks, and this time, she did nothing to stop them.