Work Text:
Sara Ellis had been called a great many things during the course of her life.
It was the price to pay for being human in society. One is perceived, one is described, one is interpreted. The trick to deal with it is to not care. Luckily for her, not caring —or at least pretending not to— was something Sara specialized in.
But there was one little adjective she resented. She couldn’t even conceal her distaste properly. Really, she was half sure that people knew it was the wrong thing to say the word left their tongue.
Workaholic.
Some meant it as a compliment. Some seemed to use it to make a jab at a supposed lack of personal life. Either way, Sara hated it. She could feel her entire being revolt at the idea. The concept pierced her skin and made her feel a great deal of shame.
The word rang true. Every time. That, she hated most of all.
She hated it enough that she started dating out of spite. Just to have something. With her parents dead, her sister… gone, there was little family she could care about. And she had always been awful at making friends. There were lunches, and there were brunches, and there were drinks— all with girls from work that were great company, but she never quite clicked with any of them.
You’re a little alien, her father used to say, but there’s more to life than friends. You’re smart. You’re dedicated. Don’t let that go to waste.
Smart. Dedicated. Work-oriented. It seemed like those things, those attributes, should be enough. Weren’t they? She certainly lived comfortably. All her work had paid off in any way that mattered at the end of the day.
Maybe she was trying to achieve some ideal of the perfect life. Maybe she was waiting on some perfect person that was never going to come. Maybe it was up to her, in the end, to patch up her emotions and erase the loneliness.
She said yes when Brian proposed. She told herself that was her taking initiative, erasing the loneliness.
And then one day, one beautiful day, she decided she was done. That maybe she was chasing a dream, and maybe she would never find it, but that was better than settling for something she never would content herself with. She ended things with Brian. Gave him back the ring.
She had never been so ready to start over.
And then she met Neal. Rather, she met a version of Neal she wasn’t looking at from a witness stand. She met a version of Neal delicately tamed by an anklet binding him to the FBI.
Everything about him screamed bad idea. Hell, the story practically started with him in her bedroom, holding a gun. Even when given the context, that was still concerning enough for her to know to turn away.
When he turned on the charm and invited her to that rooftop, displaying a moment of what she dared call authenticity, she was cautious. Toying with this would be harmless until it wasn’t.
You don’t need this, Sara, she told herself, You don’t need the excitement.
A lie. She constantly craved it. She wouldn’t be in the business of investigating and retrieving expensively insured items if she didn’t like the occasional thrills.
Neal was like that, she decided. A thrill she felt compelled to chase because it was in her nature to want things like that. There. The feeling was defined. She could brush it aside and get back to work.
A workaholic, she mused to herself. Even her relationships had to be work.