Sins of our fathers - Chapter 12 - Joy and Grief (Part 2)

[lizparker6]

Title: Sins of our Fathers
Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Frank Tancredi, Bruce Bennet, OC
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Word Count: approx. 4500 words
Rating: R for some language
Chapter: 15
Genre: Romance, Family, General, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, AU
Summary: A year since Sara's trial for aiding and abbeting, going differently than in canon. Frank Tancredi didn't die at the hands of the company. Although Sara, Michael, Lincoln and LJ have a content and happy life, there is one thing troubling their existence - the broken relationship between a father with his estranged daughter. Will Michael find a way to save what's left of their relationship?

A/N:Okay, another long pause, BUT, this time, it wasn't really my fault. The mail got lost somewhere between my Beta's and me and where I thought she was still working on the corrections, she thought I haven't yet gone over the changes. Well, s*** happens, right? Anyway, thank you so much Ash, you are a wonder. All the rest of you - enjoy!


Chapter 12 - Joy and Grief (Part 2)
It was already dark and Michael was still not home. He had texted her about an hour ago, telling her that he was with Lincoln and she was not to worry, but truth to be told, she just couldn't wait for him to come home so she could finally tell him her news. She was so excited she was barely able to sit still, the TV only a blaring background noise while her thoughts were scattered elsewhere.
She wondered about the outcome of her announcement, of course she did. Not every feeling she had was of happiness, there was also insecurity, nervousness and fright. The thoughts of something happening to her or their baby, the lasting possibility of suffering a miscarriage, and last but not least the thoughts of Michael worrying too much about them all, left her feeling more than a little uneasy. Still, underneath all this, her main emotion was joy. Yesterday, she was acquiesced with the fact she would never have a child of her own. Today, she was pregnant. This was a big change. And despite all the problems the new situation might bring that needed yet to be solved, this was something they'd wished cried and prayed for.
Michael has been trying so hard lately, she could tell. Although his moods and headaches didn't improve much, Sara saw how much he was trying not to let out his frustrations on her and she was grateful, albeit still worried about him. He was always down due to his unemployment, feeling guilty for 'doing nothing' while she took on double shifts to pay the rent, and her recent split with her father left a tiny scratch on their relationship as well. He knew that as well as she did, although they've never addressed it, the silent agreement between them being that they didn't talk about it anymore.
Her father had tried to contact her more than once ever since, but she wouldn't respond. He'd left messages and sent her an apologetic note attached to a bunch of flowers she immediately threw away. He even tried to reach her through Michael, calling him to apologize, asking for his help in making amends with Sara. This turned out to be a huge mistake, because it got her even more enraged considering it was his interfering into Michael's professional life that caused all the damage in the first place.
Due to Michael's deep frustrations still being present, Sara didn't confront him with her fears and worries over his mental health, like she had originally planed on that fateful night she drove to Springfield to face her father. She could have done so later on, but after the incident, Michael really seemed to improve, or at least tried to really hard.
Maybe this news was exactly the thing that could spur him further, give him the energy he seemed to be lacking lately. This could be the inspiration and hope he needed in order to open up all the potential Sara knew lay currently dormant under the dark layers of pessimistic fog clouding his brilliant mind.
Maybe it was indeed a miracle that was needed for Michael Scofield to finally realize that faith didn't hate them that much after all. That the higher force - if there was any - forgave them for their past sins, gifting them with something they thought they would never have.
She was being a melodramatic mess with her current thoughts, Sara realized with a smirk, but well, she certainly could justify it. Eight weeks of pregnancy seemed as good an excuse as any to be a little bit emotional.
Eight weeks. God, it's already been eight weeks. True, she's been a little sick and nauseous, but never did she believe them to be a symptom of a pregnancy. It was definitely not like the things she would always read and hear about in books, on television or from her pregnant friends; "I thought I was going to throw out my whole stomach all the time during my first trimester…", "Oh, I felt like I was run down by a train the first ten weeks, I could barely crawl out of bed I was so sick all the time…" All the same, Sara knew she should have known better. After years of practicing medicine she should have put two and two together.
Some doctor she was, Sara thought with a hint of amused irony.
Her sonogram picture was hidden in a single white envelope now resting on the coffee table in front of her and she could barely contain her fingers as they itched to extract it once again and trace in unison with her eyes over the outline of her baby as she had done all day long. If she continued like this, the picture would be worn out even before Michael would get to see it for the very first time. She resisted the urge to take another peak, taking a sip of her water instead, her eyes eyeing the envelope nevertheless. Glancing at her watch, she truly hoped Michael would be home soon.
A trace of uneasiness lurched in her belly, making her direct her thoughts to a more grave matter. What would Michael say and how would he react?
She wasn't afraid that he'd be anything short of happy, that much was certain. She'd seen the broken look in his eyes when they were so many times told the inconvenient truth that they'd probably never have a child of their own. She also knew the sadness in his eyes wasn't solely for her own benefit, not just due to the bludgeon of responsibility and guilt he felt for inflicting this upon her, although that was a huge part of that too. She knew, deep down, that Michael harbored the wish to be a father someday too. With her and her only, he stubbornly stated some time later during one of their evening talks that turned to this sore topic. Sara half-heartedly suggested then that it was not him who was damaged. It was also one of the few times she really saw him angry with her, extremely angry and hurt. She understood, because she wouldn't have it any other way. Although this was not something she bargained for when they'd met, she knew that if she had the choice again, she wouldn't do anything differently. Michael Scofield was and ever would be the best decision she's ever made.
Scolding at her watch, her face pulled into a frown. Although being with his brother, it was unusual for Michael to be out so late, especially on a week night and when they weren't out together. She was just about to pick-up her cell to ring him again when she heard a key rattle in their lock. A nervous bubble suddenly boasted in her chest, her hands starting to tremble with anticipation. Her fingers gave the envelope one more involuntary stroke before they traveled to her hair, then her shirt to smoothen it out in a nervous gesture.
They were going to become parents. And she was just about to tell the man she loved that a miracle had happened and that he would, with luck, be a father soon.
The nervousness mixed with uneasiness as well as anticipation. She didn't want his first reaction to be of worry. She didn't want his mind to jump directly towards all the trouble this unexpected and unplanned situation would cause, making him think about their financial instabilities and his lack of employment and the level of safety and health - hers as well as their babies. They've been told all along about the possible difficulties that could occur once she succeeded in miraculously falling pregnant, about the higher risks and complications that might lead to a miscarriage, especially in the course of her first trimester. All these were very scary things to think about, all of which she had at least twice contemplated in the course of the past twelve hours already, and she didn't want him to have to go through that as well, at least not immediately.
She knew him all too well, knew he would obsess about the smallness of their apartment and the need to build up a nursery, about buying baby stuff and about her well being, about how she would have to quit work sooner or later while he was still unable to support her the way he believed he should.
She didn't want him to think about any of this right away, right after the words "I'm pregnant" would tumble out of her mouth, during the moment he should be filled with joy rather than apprehension. Later, yes, it would be inevitable to think and discuss all of these things, however today should stay unspoiled and one to cherish only. A miracle was finally happening for them that should be honored with an evening full of joy and calm and not a single trace of doubt or worry. She loved him too much for that.
Tomorrow he could start his planning and plotting, she would not stop him. But today was to be spent together in simple happiness and joyous anticipation.
The door opened and a bubble of laughter erupted from her throat and escaped her lips before she could help it, because the silliest cheesy phrase came to her mind just as Michael stepped into the room, his eyes immediately searching the apartment for Sara, and she couldn't help but think with a twinge of mischievous merriment the words: "daddy's home".

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The first thing Michael Scofield noticed when he entered the apartment late in the evening was the darkened atmosphere, the only source of light a few crème colored candles burning in the living room. The next thing he noticed was the chuckle she was trying to hold from erupting within her before she gave in and let it out, her face lit with one of her most rare smiles that made his heart flutter in his chest.
Her good mood and obvious reason for merriment, which had yet to be discovered, made it even worse for him. He knew he was about to burst her bubble too soon and too cruelly.
The next thing he noticed, while he called his greetings with a faked sense of calmness while he shook off his jacket, was a single white envelope that rested on their coffee table. For a second, he gave in to his curiosity and wondered what it might mean, then he forced the thought aside.
If he was to tell her, he needed to do that now.
His chest constricted painfully, his heart being crushed by a deadly weight. He was most likely dying, but he knew the pain he felt did not come from his medical ailments. He was certain that the most painful thing he would have to do was to tell the truth the women he loved. He was never afraid of death. He was only afraid of what he would be leaving behind.
Giving a quiet sigh and squeezing his eyes shut for the shortest of moments while his back was facing her, he hung the jacket on the rack, spending another second to simply run his hand over the rough material. It was just another second she was spared of the horrible news.
For a fleeting moment, he considered excusing himself in order to shower first. After all, he'd spent the afternoon playing ball with his brother and nephew, but he knew that once he slipped into their daily routine, there was no way he would be able to break it and admit to something like that in the midst of their usual dinner orders.
Turning with his determination set, he crossed the space still separating them and took Sara into his arms. She seemed a little taken aback by his too enthusiastic greeting, but she didn't complain, merely melted against him.
"Welcome home," she said while contently humming into his ear and his heart nearly burst with emotion. He did everything in his power to push away the tears that suddenly sprung to his eyes.
He was supposed to guide her through this, not break apart in front of her. She was what mattered most, and he would not screw this up, he wouldn't let his own regrets get in the way.
"Took your time," she commented quietly, her face turning in his embrace to put a sweet kiss against his neck, but she didn't step away from him, merely drew closer.
"Sorry, I was held up with Linc and LJ." It wasn't a complete lie.
"It's okay," she whispered soothingly against the side of his face, her warm breath caressing the lobe of his ear and sending goose bumps rising up all over his body.
He needed to get some space between them, now, or he'd be doomed. Clearing his throat, he finally let his hands fall away and took a step back. That's when she looked into his face properly for the very first time that evening.
She gave a small frown when her eyes stopped on the thick band-aid covering the left side of his forehead. His insides made a flip.
"What's this?" she asked, her fingers coming to caress the white square. Then her face stretched into a small knowing grin before he even had the chance to respond. "And don't tell me you caught an elbow playing basketball, I won't fall for that one twice," she added jokingly.
She could have stabbed him right in the chest with a rusty knife and it would not have been more painful then what he was feeling at the moment. He gave a feeble smile, shaking is head. "Actually, it was Linc shoving me against the pole," he said, watching her surprised expression before she shook her head amusedly, her face stretching into an even wider grin.
"Men," she beefed.
He didn't know why he was lying to her when she actually just gave him the perfect opening to start what he had to tell her. "I had a biopsy," he could have simply told her and she would immediately understand. She was smart, his Sara. Sometimes maybe even too much for her own good. So why didn't he? Why did he choose the lie instead?
He inwardly sighed. How could he do otherwise, of course? It was as if seeing her oblivious and happy for five more minutes would make all the difference in the world.
It actually would. For him, it always would.
They still stood close, hands loosely touching the other's sides. For a moment, she seemed to observe him and he observed her, memorizing all of her lovely features before they would ultimately change with the crushing news he was about to deliver.
Whether she picked up on something or not he didn't know, but she did grow more serious and serene all of a sudden. The candlelight was dancing in her eyes and making them darker, liquid chocolate with pieces of hazelnut and caramel in them. He didn't want to watch them glaze over with fright, sorrow or tears. He wanted to preserve their natural beauty; he wanted to capture the intriguing happy gleam they seemed to be emitting today. Especially today.
"We need to talk," they burst out simultaneously, then shared a nervous laugh.
"You first," he offered quickly. He shouldn't. But five more minutes of her sweet oblivion wouldn't hurt them, would they? Whatever her news, he could wait another couple of minutes before he let the bomb drop.
"Okay," she slowly nodded, letting out a nervous chuckle.
He knew he was being a coward. And he didn't particularly care; for she was tugging at his hand now and directing him towards the sofa where she gently pulled him down to sit beside her. And her smile - God, her smile - was killing him from inside out. He felt like curling into a ball and weeping.
She actually looked a bit nervous and uncoordinated herself as she picked up the envelope he'd been eyeing before and handed it to him clumsily.
"I have something for you," she added unnecessarily. "I found out only today myself. And since there are no really appropriate words to say it and because I think that sometimes a picture can speak a thousand words…." Her voice was slightly trembling and for a moment, he'd forgotten all about his tumor, along with the promise he gave himself to tell her the second he got home.
For now, all he was concentrated on was the single thin white envelope he was currently holding in his hands. What did it hold?
His fingers glided through the paper, examining the surface as if it held all the answers, although he knew the true and only answer lay inside. Something told him that whatever this was, it was of the utmost importance.
His fingers finally found their way inside the fold. There was a single sheet of paper, a picture, a photo perhaps, only in black and white, so much he could see even from this angle.
The room was dimly lit, but the candles gave enough light for him to see exactly what the picture was the moment he pulled it out and looked at it properly. He recognized what it was instantaneously.
His heart seemed to have stopped, only to restart beating at a far quicker pace.
He was gaping at the incredible picture; a sonogram that coming from Sara could only mean one thing. The excruciating stabbing pain in his chest grew with each new drawn breath, tears springing to his eyes. His thumb came to caress the picture that held so much promise and hope.
Yet he might never meet this creature in person.
Finally managing to unglue his eyes from the picture, he gazed up at Sara, her face a blur through his tears. He didn't know what to do, what to say. She was waiting for his reaction, patiently but a little nervously, yet he seemed stuck. He gazed back at the picture.
He would be a father.
For a moment, he let his joy win, let the incredible feeling envelope him.
"I love you so much…so much that you'll never know," he whispered, his voice breaking. Before he knew, he was enveloping her in his arms, squeezing her to him as tightly as he dared.
He could hear her let out a loud breath; then she was crying and laughing into his neck all at the same time, her arms tightly around his neck.
"I love you too," she replied, her voice also an emotional whisper.
He merely clutched her against himself, tears still clouding his vision, but this time, he let them fall. Hopefully, she wouldn't recognize they were both, tears of joy as well as tears of grief.
He could only kiss the top of her crown, stroke her head and back, hold her tight and listen to her content sighs, sobs and laughs, while his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces in his chest, each single one sharp as a knife and painfully digging against his flesh.
"I love you," he repeated, the words tumbling heavily from his mouth, his tongue suddenly too thick for his mouth, his throat swollen as if filled with scratchy wool. "I love you both," he uttered anew, letting his eyes close and his senses envelope the feel of her.
She seemed as reluctant to let him go as he was and that was okay with Michael. He was calculating in his mind. How much time would he need in order to get a glimpse of his child at least just once? Only to see if they took after him or Sara? To make sure mother and baby were healthy and well cared for. How much time would he need for that at least?
His thoughts were interrupted by Sara's next muffled words. "I heard their heartbeat today. Sam made the ultrasound and I could hear the baby's heart."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he merely brought her closer to him, putting more and more kisses into her hair, desperately wanting to make her feel as deeply loved as she was. Because she was, God, she was.
The sharp splinters in his chest were digging deeper, the pain making it nearly unbearable to keep quiet, but he would, even if it were the last thing he would ever do. He would never spoil a day like this for her, for them, for anything. There was no way he would tell her now, he would rather die than tell.
She slowly began to calm a little, yet stayed silently resting in his embrace, her breathing even and composed. They sat like that for a couple more minutes, just stroking one another, an occasional kiss to the neck or face or head or hair, nothing more. It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that she spoke again.
"There was something you wanted to tell me?" she asked, as if only now remembering. She finally untangled herself from his embrace, much to his dismay, and looked at him inquiringly, happy tears still glistering in the corners of her eyes.
He gave her a long look, marveling in her beauty, then shook his head firmly, bringing their foreheads together.
"It's not important." He croaked. "Tell me about the baby."
***ooOoo***
Sara was sitting in her office the next morning, enjoying a short pause between patients while eating her second apple that morning. Still, her stomach was all the while stubbornly grumbling with hunger. She only smiled, her hand coming to rest over the still firm skin of her belly.
"Patience, patience, food's already on its way," she said jokingly, taking another bite while returning to her previous thoughts of yesterday's events.
She was a bit surprised at how emotionally Michael took the news, but she was also very pleased. And very relieved too, if she were being honest with herself. In the course of the whole evening, not a single word was said about any potential fears of the future, monetary issues or job insecurities, and for that she was enormously grateful.
It was all she ever wanted, and yet, something kept nagging at her. Michael had been so attentive and sweet to her, but the drawn look he gave sometimes reminded her more of sadness than joy. She must have imagined it however, for there was no way a man would tell her he loved her, love them both, the way Michael did yesterday and be unhappy about it.
Maybe his mind was already jumping ahead, his thoughts racing to the near as well as distant future, he only didn't want to say anything about it to her just yet.
They talked about her and the baby until late night, Michael asking question of how she found out, how far along she was, how long it would still take for the baby to be born - this one actually made her smile at his impatience - how she was feeling and if the baby was okay too.
She gave him all the answers she was able to provide, yet she warned him she was no specialist and needed to go to see her gynecologist first. She grinned when she pictured the dumbstruck expression the elderly doctor would surely have once she told him she indeed was pregnant and he could go shove his diagnosis elsewhere.
They talked a little bit about the other matters too, about the scarring and the potential risks, but she tried to keep it as light as possible. For now, they agreed to keep it a secret between just the two of them, at least until she was over her first trimester, only to be sure. Even Lincoln and LJ weren't to be told, it felt like they'd jinx the whole thing by telling anybody else.
Michael seemed a little bit reluctant on that point, but she had him agreeing in the end. She guessed it was hard for him to keep secrets from his brother, and although she did understand it to a certain degree, she felt this one was too important to keep quiet about for a bit longer.
She was just about to get up and ask Sam to send the next patient in when her phone rang and it took her a while to locate it in the depths of her purse. She dug it out and quickly glanced at the ID, her forehead puckering slightly when spotting Linc's name on the screen.
"Hey Linc, what's up?" she asked in a kind and welcoming voice.
"Hey Sara, you guys there yet? The traffic is horrible this morning and I might be a little bit late, but I'll be there as soon as possible. Tell Michael I wish him best of luck in case I'm too late and he's already in for the results," he hastened, but finished the last sentence too gently for Lincoln's usual gruff demeanor.
"Uhm…" there was a slight pause in the phone on both ends before Sara was able to reply, confusion clear in her voice. "I'm sorry, but I am afraid I really don't know what you are talking about Lincoln."
There was another uncomfortable pause at the other end of the line before Lincoln silently swore under his breath. "Sara, where are you?" he asked at last, his voice tense and badly concealing his anger, something that skyrocketed Sara's confusion and made her feel a little uneasy.
"Um, work, why? Where are you? And more importantly, where's Michael?"
There was another pause on Lincoln's end of line, then he swore again, his words quiet yet distinct nevertheless; "Son of a bitch…"
"Linc, you're scaring me. What's going on?" asked Sara, feeling the panic starting to rise in her chest.
There was a loud sigh at the other end and Sara could clearly picture Lincoln run his hand over his scalp in frustration, his nails grazing the closely shorn head. "You're at the clinic, right?" he asked at last.
"Yes!" she retorted a bit exasperatedly. "What's going on?" she repeated with a hint of hysteria.
"Stay there, I'll pick you up in twenty minutes. There is something you need to know."
"Linc…?" her voice was feeble and she sounded scared.
"It's alright, Sara. I'll explain everything. Don't worry, okay? I'll be there in fifteen." His tone was calming and utterly kind. It scared her even more. "Don't worry too much, but take the rest of the day off, okay?" he added.
"Why?" she asked, desperate in her need for answers. She hated cryptic news and half-cut information. It reminded her of a time she didn't want to remember.
"Just do it, will you?" he snapped demandingly, part of his hardly managed calm slipping away. He was clearly on edge too.
A tear slid down her cheek, she didn't even know why. But there was something ominous in what Lincoln was saying to her and it scared her.
"Okay," she uttered quietly.
"Good girl," he sighed in relief at last. "I'll see you soon."
With that he hung up, leaving an utterly shaken Sara helplessly sitting in her infirmary, waiting.
TBC
A/N: I know it's sad and not at all as many of you would have preferred them both to find out, but do you really see Michael telling her after she gave him news like that? Of course not. That's why we love him so much, don't we? More angst/romance/hurt/comfort will ensue, stay tuned.