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Fic: Wanderess
Title: Wanderess
Characters (Pairings): Sara Ellis
Rating: PG
Word Count: 631
Spoilers: For S04E16
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: With nowhere to anchor herself, Sara gets lost.
Author's Note: Written for Challenge 9 - Picture Prompt - over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse, for this picture. Title from Hurricane by Halsey. Written in a bit of a hurry, sorry about that.
Part of the Amis Amants 'verse. For more in this verse, click here.
Among Sara's recent practical purchases had been a pair of sneakers. (Which are useful, she reflected, when you decide to rent a bicycle right after work and go cycling through the suburbs without even the excuse of drunkenness to explain your actions.) As were suits. Pantsuits, that is, which, though they may be damaged by low-hanging branches, were still better to wear while cycling than dresses.
Now she was churning the wheels as fast as she could, with no regard for where she was going, just enjoying the feel of the breeze against her face and the comforting exhaustion in her legs and the complete lack of thoughts in her head. Focusing on the bike while ignoring the landscape zipping past was taking up all her focus. Faster, faster, faster, too fast...?
She lost control of the handlebar for half a second and went crashing sideways into a little shrub growing by the side of the road.
Perfect, she thought. Just what she needed.
She picked herself off the ground and dusted off her clothes, studiously ignoring her scraped knee. Scraped knees were for children.
Breathing carefully, she looked around and tried to figure out where she was. She couldn't. She was far, far off the beaten path. She'd managed to take a tiny dirt road and wind up by a little lake. And it was later than she thought it was. The sky was already mourning the absence of the sun by draping itself in black.
She sighed and stared out at the lake.
She hadn't wanted to think too much.
The last time she went cycling was just after Emily ran away, much to the damage of the frail hearts of two terrified parents, calling out for her in all their favourite haunts, hoping, hoping that Emily hadn't run too far away, hoping that she'd find her somehow. She didn't.
She took her time catching her breath, decidedly not reducing herself to clutching her knees and gasping.
The lake was quiet, restful. She picked up the poor battered bike (she'd be paying more than just the rental fee), leaned it against a tree and stared out at the lake, wondering if she should go back to her life yet.
That was a bad idea. The whole point of this exercise was to run away from that. A nasty habit she'd picked up from... an ex.
The London office was proving difficult to manage. Everyone had their own ideas about how to work, and despite the fact that all her suggestions were reasonable and helpful, no one appreciated the hotshot from New York in the corner office. They wanted one of their own.
Cutthroats in a cutthroat business, she decided. She was doing her job as brilliantly as she could, but without the cooperation of her colleagues, she'd be back to pounding the street and swinging her baton. And she didn't know if she wanted that anymore. She was ready for this job. But her colleagues weren't ready to accept her. And so she was stuck with the coffee cart guy as her only friend.
Normally, this wouldn't affect her. But without people around her who appreciated what she did, she was choking.
What would Neal do? she thought despite herself, despite the slight ache in her throat as she thought his name. He'd charm everyone's socks off. He'd make it impossible for them not to like him.
But she wasn't Neal, and she wasn't very charming either.
The cool night air was pleasant. She stopped her thoughts in their tracks and stared out at the lake, away from the office, away from her foolish loneliness for a few more moments, just a few more, till she would have to get back on the cycle and find her way home.
Characters (Pairings): Sara Ellis
Rating: PG
Word Count: 631
Spoilers: For S04E16
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: With nowhere to anchor herself, Sara gets lost.
Author's Note: Written for Challenge 9 - Picture Prompt - over at
writerverse, for this picture. Title from Hurricane by Halsey. Written in a bit of a hurry, sorry about that.Part of the Amis Amants 'verse. For more in this verse, click here.
Among Sara's recent practical purchases had been a pair of sneakers. (Which are useful, she reflected, when you decide to rent a bicycle right after work and go cycling through the suburbs without even the excuse of drunkenness to explain your actions.) As were suits. Pantsuits, that is, which, though they may be damaged by low-hanging branches, were still better to wear while cycling than dresses.
Now she was churning the wheels as fast as she could, with no regard for where she was going, just enjoying the feel of the breeze against her face and the comforting exhaustion in her legs and the complete lack of thoughts in her head. Focusing on the bike while ignoring the landscape zipping past was taking up all her focus. Faster, faster, faster, too fast...?
She lost control of the handlebar for half a second and went crashing sideways into a little shrub growing by the side of the road.
Perfect, she thought. Just what she needed.
She picked herself off the ground and dusted off her clothes, studiously ignoring her scraped knee. Scraped knees were for children.
Breathing carefully, she looked around and tried to figure out where she was. She couldn't. She was far, far off the beaten path. She'd managed to take a tiny dirt road and wind up by a little lake. And it was later than she thought it was. The sky was already mourning the absence of the sun by draping itself in black.
She sighed and stared out at the lake.
She hadn't wanted to think too much.
The last time she went cycling was just after Emily ran away, much to the damage of the frail hearts of two terrified parents, calling out for her in all their favourite haunts, hoping, hoping that Emily hadn't run too far away, hoping that she'd find her somehow. She didn't.
She took her time catching her breath, decidedly not reducing herself to clutching her knees and gasping.
The lake was quiet, restful. She picked up the poor battered bike (she'd be paying more than just the rental fee), leaned it against a tree and stared out at the lake, wondering if she should go back to her life yet.
That was a bad idea. The whole point of this exercise was to run away from that. A nasty habit she'd picked up from... an ex.
The London office was proving difficult to manage. Everyone had their own ideas about how to work, and despite the fact that all her suggestions were reasonable and helpful, no one appreciated the hotshot from New York in the corner office. They wanted one of their own.
Cutthroats in a cutthroat business, she decided. She was doing her job as brilliantly as she could, but without the cooperation of her colleagues, she'd be back to pounding the street and swinging her baton. And she didn't know if she wanted that anymore. She was ready for this job. But her colleagues weren't ready to accept her. And so she was stuck with the coffee cart guy as her only friend.
Normally, this wouldn't affect her. But without people around her who appreciated what she did, she was choking.
What would Neal do? she thought despite herself, despite the slight ache in her throat as she thought his name. He'd charm everyone's socks off. He'd make it impossible for them not to like him.
But she wasn't Neal, and she wasn't very charming either.
The cool night air was pleasant. She stopped her thoughts in their tracks and stared out at the lake, away from the office, away from her foolish loneliness for a few more moments, just a few more, till she would have to get back on the cycle and find her way home.
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Please do so!
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I see her as wanting this job so much, but the new city and the new people not quite gelling with her.
Thank you so much!
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