Warm (1/1)
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, their son
Rating: G.
Length: 960
Spoilers : 4.22
Genre : AU (non-epilogue compliant *g*), post-series, fluff
Summary : Like almost every time, as her son finds her breast, feeding himself contently, she lets her mind drift away.
Author's Note: This a much happier “companion” fic to the dark (and canon) fic I wrote not long ago entitled “Cold”.
She vaguely hears the demanding cry of her child in the back of her sleepy mind. Exhausted, she turns her head to check the alarm clock on the night stand, she can see it's just after 3 a.m as the two-month-old cries soothe in the nursery. Knowing she has to get up, to feed her child, she turns to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty and lukewarm.
Still lying in bed, she doesn't move, trying to catch the sounds in the house. Approaching footsteps have her turning her head toward the bedroom door and suddenly the figure of her husband, carrying their hungry son appears in sight.
She sits up and settles against the head of the bed, as Michael comes next to her and hands her the infant who starts to cry again. “Shh baby, mommy's here.”
“And daddy!” she hears her husband say laughingly after deposing a quick kiss on the top of her head. She grins and nods, lowering her head to look at their son “And daddy yes ! But he's not much use right now, is he ?”.
“Ah ! Remind me who just dragged himself out of bed at 3 in the morning ?”
“Ah yes ! Sorry ! You're my hero, thank you !”
The thought that their conversation is surprisingly light and playful for two people who didn't have a proper night of sleep in two months rapidly cross her mind, but the soft complain of the baby in her arms doesn't allow her to think it further. Michael smiles proudly and watches Sara lift the piece of clothing she chose to sleep in - his shirt - a sight warming up his insides with pride and something much more carnal.
Like almost every time - as their son finds her breast feeding himself contently, and Michael settles next to her, looking at them in a comfortable and peaceful silence - she lets her mind drift away. Like every time, she is almost too overwhelmed - maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's not - to reflect on how much they have accomplished.
“You ever think, in another life...”
And strangely enough, this is another life. She knows better than to let herself become overwhelmed by memories of a painful time in their lives, and yet, she drowns into these souvenirs.
“It won't always be like this. In this room, in this place.”
She finds it hard to believe that a little over a year ago, they shared their first kiss within the sterile walls of the infirmary. When she compares her life before and after Michael, looking down at their son, she knows she would leave that infirmary door open again and again, and not just for the tiny life in her arms at this very moment and the new level of love she found and never knew existed. She knows that a lot of lives have been hurt, or worse, taken, because of actions of the past, but she also has learned to live looking at the future, not at an unchangeable past.
“I didn't expect you to forgive me. But I don't want you to be alone in this.”
“I don't want to be alone.”
She has forgiven him a long time ago. Today, she's not alone. They live in Panama, the ocean is their front yard; one of the many promises he made and kept true to his words. Lincoln and LJ are practically their neighbours, Fernando is a phone call away, and Alex, as strange as it seems, keeps in touch with them. And of course, there is their son, the undeniable proof that they exist on this earth, that they love each other. She tears her eyes away from the baby in her arms and looks at the man that makes her feel whole next to her. No, she is not alone.
"I choose to have faith. Cause without that I have nothing. It's the only thing that's keeping me going.”
She sighs as they exchange one long knowing look. His hand comes up to caress her cheek as she recalls a time when the dreams of a life with Michael Scofield were what kept her going through the hard times before she even knew she was pregnant with his child. She hears him whispering three words that are not even enough to express how they feel about each other : I love you. His face comes closer and their lips touch in a slow kiss that makes her insides flip pleasantly.
The feel of the baby's hand moving just above the hollow of her breast jolts her out of their kiss, and they both look down at the small human being that is theirs. Sometimes they both can't believe that they've created a new life, while being surrounded by so many deaths. He is drifting back to sleep, fighting to keep his eyes open, and looks at his mother with eyes matching his father's. She bends her head to kiss his forehead and then lingers for a moment, inhaling the distinct smell of baby hair, filling her heart with a love without limits.
Later, when she has put him back in his crib, staring for yet another indefinite time at his features, so close to Michael's, she retreats back to their bedroom. Again, she can’t stop her mind from sinking into memory.
“I want you to know, that I'm gonna be a hands-on daddy. Like if the baby needs a bottle in the middle of the night ? I will totally keep your side of the bed warm until you get back.”
A grin forms on her face as she gazes at her husband spread out on the bed, a matching grin lighting up his face. She knows for sure that her side of the bed is warm.
.