Chapter Text
Layla and Sara entered the room, and Sara was overwhelmed by a flood of memories. This was the room she had shared for years with the woman she had loved most in her life. This was the bed where she had made love for the first time with a woman, where she had first felt safe enough to cry in Nyssa’s arms, and the bed where they had healed and cared for each other through the most painful moments of their lives.
The room was different now—more colorful, perhaps a little more disorderly than when it had been Nyssa’s, yet still permanently disciplined and well kept. No weapons in sight, though certainly many hidden. She didn’t want to move too confidently, but the space was familiar, deeply so. She didn’t want to appear excessive in front of Layla, who invited her to sit.
“Can I get you something?” the girl asked out of habit, but Sara refused with a wave of her hand, asking her to skip the pleasantries.
“I know you don’t like me,” Sara said seriously, without embellishment, leaning back against the chair.
“That’s true. I don’t like you. But I don’t have to,” Layla replied softly, as if trying to be diplomatic. It came naturally to her, but in this moment, it was the most she could offer.
“I won’t pretend I’m not trying to earn your approval. I hope you can change your mind about me, but I’ll give you all the time you need.” Sara deeply wished that the daughter of the woman who was once again brightening her days could see her in a positive light. Unfortunately, her past was too heavy a burden to hide.
“Sara, my mother always told me about the blonde girl who came from afar and was rescued from the shores of Lian Yu. I know who you are, and I know my mother has done nothing but love you all her life. I don’t like you because you hurt her in ways no one else ever has. Staying was never your strength. My mother did nothing but sacrifice herself for you.” Layla’s voice was low and calculated until the very end, carefully masking her desire to end the conversation as soon as possible.
“Leaving Nanda Parbat was never easy, but it was always necessary if I wanted to survive,” Sara replied, thinking of her daughter, who was probably about to finish her test. She had asked Nyssa to give it to her, wanting to see if Laurel was mature enough to process what she would witness within the League. She hoped the outcome would be positive.
“You didn’t only leave Nanda. You left her. And I saw the wounds she still carries in her soul because of you. I should hate you for the pain you caused, and for coming back now to beg for help, pouring salt into her wounds. But I can also see how much good you brought her, how your presence kept her from becoming like her father. For that, I am grateful.” Layla changed her tone, extending her hand to show how deeply thankful she was that her mother had learned to love—something so far from the role of Ra’s.
“I never wanted to hurt her. Even if I was too young to love her as deeply and courageously as she loved me, I loved her too, in my own way. And I’m certain she knows that,” Sara said, taking the girl’s hand, which was cold, while hers trembled.
“I don’t doubt it. But today, it isn’t enough. Perhaps it should never have been enough, even back then,” Layla said as she withdrew her hand. It was no truce, no ceasefire. Sara had misunderstood.
“You don’t need to trust me, Layla. That’s not why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here. And that’s why I’m willing to admit I was wrong. My mother was right to give you asylum. I’m glad I’ve met your daughter. Laurel is a special person. If she decides to stay, she could have a future here.” Layla spoke again in a professional, detached tone, afraid she had opened up too much.
“That’s not why we came. I’d like us both to go back to normal.”
“You know that’s impossible. Not after what she’s discovering.”
“I came out of it better than I went in,” Sara murmured, almost to herself, reassured slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ll protect her with my life,” Layla said in the same tone.
“Your mother swore the same to my father, with me. I’m sure you’ll keep your word. But I hope it won’t be necessary,” Sara replied with a faint smile.
“That’s not up to you. It’s up to Laurel.”
“Layl—” Laurel burst into the room, nearly knocking the door off its hinges, finding her mother by the door and her friend seated at her desk.
“Mom? I was looking for you. What are you doing here?” she asked, a mix of surprise and annoyance. She had wanted only her friend—at least before having to talk to her mother. She had wanted to tell her about the trial and the mystical journeys. She would do it later, she thought.
“I wanted to reassure Layla that I changed the bandage on my uniform. You said you were looking for me?” Sara offered, hiding the real reason for her visit. Approaching the daughter of her lifelong flame was not among the permissions Laurel would grant her, not now at least. Laurel was bonding with Layla, and her resentment toward Sara was still a chain between them, Sara thought.
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you, but I actually came for Layla. Never mind.” She glanced at her friend, who reassured her with a nod and a slight smile, genuinely happy that mother and daughter might finally reconnect.
“We’ll talk later, Blondie!” Layla said warmly as she sat down on the bed.
Then she waved goodbye to her friend and told her she would see her later.
They entered Nyssa’s study. No one was there, and the guards let them through as soon as they saw Sara. Laurel turned to the same guards who had denied her entry before and made a mocking face, as if to say: Here I am, I got through anyway.
“I’ve seen some things I need to talk to you about,” Laurel said with newfound seriousness. There was a spark of maturity in her eyes. Sara was curious to see how she would handle herself. She understood the awkward situation her daughter was in. But she had already seen the effects of a few days within the League. Perhaps Layla had influenced her—and not insignificantly.
“I know Nyssa gave you the trial. You don’t need to explain, sweetheart.” Sara wanted to get ahead of her, to reassure her, and to clarify immediately that the betrayal she foresaw came from Sara herself, not from Nyssa.
“You knew too?” the young blonde asked, shocked and hurt, her eyes wide, another unexpected betrayal. Nyssa she could forgive. But her mother? Again? She decided to let it slide for the sake of peace, but she made no attempt to hide her disappointment.
“Let’s just say it was my request, not Nyssa’s,” Sara said as she sat in one of the chairs across from the great regal throne of the Demon’s Head. She would never sit there.
“That woman loves you to death,” the girl stated plainly as she sat beside her mother, rolling her eyes.
“I know,” Sara replied with a nod and a smile.
“And you?” Laurel asked, stabbing her with the question. Sara would have expected it from Layla, not from her daughter. Was she beginning to root for Nyssa? The thought pleased her, but at the same time, the question bothered her—it was too intimate, too blunt. The influence of the Demon’s Head was already beginning to show.
“It was never easy for me to understand where love for her began and where it ended,” she decided to answer truthfully. Her daughter seemed to genuinely want to know everything. She deserved it, after all. She had a right to clarity.
“I saw something that—” Laurel began quickly, as if trying to circle around a key point. She wasn’t sure how to frame it and began to stammer. Sara jumped in to help her.
“Oh honey, if we’re going to talk about it, we need to really talk about it. Just tell me if you want to tell me what you saw, or if you’d rather I start from the beginning.” She ran a hand down her face as she spoke, convinced now that she had made her choice. She would not step back. She would answer without lies or omissions.
“I won’t tell you about all the times I saw you making out with Miss al Ghul,” Laurel said with a touch of arrogance.
“I’m sorry for you, then—there must have been a lot,” Sara chuckled, drawing a grimace from her daughter.
“I thought it would be worse. I don’t feel the need to wash my eyes out with detergent like I thought I would. I could—but there’s no need.” The young girl laughed heartily, crossing her legs on the chair and settling in comfortably.