Me before you

chapter 21

And so Sana slipped into her new routine as easily as she had the first – simple and easy as falling asleep.

On the surface, it wasn't all that different: she woke up at the same time in the morning, in the same bed, woke Louis up for school and made breakfast. She walked him to school the same way, and walked the same way to the mayor's house afterwards. She went round the back and said good morning to Y/n, usually had a coffee or tea (hot cocoa with cinnamon for Y/n) before going to find Sarah either in her study at home or at the Lincoln town hall where she'd had her first interview, all those months ago.

The work was good, Sana had to admit. Caring for Y/n had opened up her life in the best possible way, but that was hardly a professional endeavour anymore, and it was almost a relief to be surrounded by files and faxes again. Working with Sarah was nothing like work had been in Boston – it was easy, and almost companionable. As it turned out, a lot more went into running a small town than she would have thought, and as it turned out, she was glad. So she worked, she spent time with Y/n, she spent time with Louis. The bottle of sleeping pills on her nightstand began to gather dust.

On the surface, her world hadn't changed all that much. Underneath... Sana could scarcely remember the last time she'd been so content with day to day life.

"Morning," Sana called, pulling her jangling key from the lock and closing the porch door behind her. She unbuttoned her coat, folding it over her arm and going to peer around the door of the mayor's study. "Where are we stationed today?"

"Oh, here will do," Inside, Sarah was reaching half under the table, face screwed up in concentration. The little office was still a junkyard of files and novelty paperweights, photocopies and family pictures. "As long as you excuse the mess."

"I have a nine year old son, Mrs – Sarah." Sana corrected herself quickly, shooting the other woman a look. "This is nothing."

"Whatever you say," The mayor raised her eyebrows, leaning over to clear a space the opposite side of the desk for her. "Anyway, have a seat." She frowned, as much as Sarah could frown, rifling through the stack of papers on her lap. "So... It would be a massive help if you could finish those reports from yesterday?"

"On it." Sana assured her, brow furrowing as she searched for the right file. "When do you need them by?" When she didn't get an answer, Sana glanced up from the paperwork in front of her to find Sarah watching her with a barely-supressed smile on her face. Sana met her gaze, trying her best not to be defensive and snappy. "What?"

"Nothing." Sarah replied, smile still in place. Though not biologically, the mayor had the same kind of smile as her daughter – when it appeared, it could light up the whole world. She paused, toying with a giraffe-shaped paperweight in front of her. "Nothing. You just reminded me of something." She paused again, seeming to shake the thought off. "And you have a more intense work ethic than pretty much everybody in this town combined."

Sana wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "City standards." In the end, she settled on a smile. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

"It's a good thing," Sarah assured her.

It was a few hours later, when they'd both fallen into a companionable quiet, broken only by the scratching of pencils on paper and the tapping of computer keys, that the mayor brought it up again, seemingly out of nowhere. "You know Y/n used to help me out when she was little?" She glanced up from the desk. "Well, I say little – we didn't properly start fostering her until she was thirteen."

Sana's eyebrows shot skyward as she folded another piece of paper. "Really?"

"Yeah. She'd sort my files, photocopy, take messages for me. Or tried to, at least." The mayor shot her a look. "She was always much happier in Marco's office."