The Night Before (Misa Fic)
Sitting up on the roof
Sneaking a smoke by the chimney
Checking out the moon
And the city lights
Sara lifts a hand, rubbing it over her neck anxiously. It doesn’t matter how many times it happens, whenever she picks up the phone and hears his voice, she packs a bag and gets the first flight out.
They always met in a different place, and she never knew where it’d be until he called. Or how long it would be between calls.
She chews her thumb nervously, stomping her feet to ward off the cold and looking around the parking lot, wondering why on earth there would be a parking lot at the bottom of a mountain. Her eyes light on a track of some kind and she rolls them.
“God, Michael, do you honestly expect me to climb that?”
“Well, only if you’re feeling unfit.”
Sara spins around, seeing Michael’s slow grin cross his face before throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms wrap tightly around her shoulders and pull her even closer, resting his chin on her head.
“Hi.” Sara pulls back to get a good look at him.
“Hi yourself.” The haunted look in his eyes that had lingered since she’d known him is diminishing slowly over time, although Sara knows the cautious joy in his eyes whenever he sees her hides it well.
As they walk to the car (hers. His had been dumped…somewhere. As usual. Sara doesn’t even want to know), his hand comes up to absentmindedly brush his fingers over her hair. Those were the moments she loved him the most. The moments where he wasn’t the dangerous fugitive and she wasn’t the ex-junkie ex-prison doctor. The moments where they weren’t people to be wary or sacred of. The moments where they were just two people.
Two people who loved each other.
He takes off his flannel shirt
And he drapes it around her shoulders
Slides up behind her and holds on tight
He puts the worn blue cap on her head and she adjusts it with a fleeting smile before sliding out of her seat and running into the grocery store. There’s no need anymore for the hat, if anything, he needs it, sitting in the car, but they’ve done it so many times now.
As she wanders through the store (she knows he won’t mind if she takes some time. Nobody’s going to recognize him here) her fingers play over the brim of the hat and she drifts away for a moment, to so many different times and places. All with him, though.
A hotel room in Seattle, she’d been wearing nothing but a sheet and he grinned at her from the foot of the bed.
A crumbling cottage in Columbine, where she tangled her fingers in the ivy on the walls and he tangled his fingers in hers.
Under the pier at Santa Monica, splashing each other before he pressed her up against the wood and cupped her face in his hands.
A high rise building in Manhattan, the tallest building she’d ever been in, and when she’d asked him how the hell he’d gotten in here, he touched a finger to her lips.
A cheap duplex in Utah where he’d made her eggs for breakfast and she’d made him steak for dinner.
On a blanket in Central Park, where he’d shown her how easy it was to lose yourself in the city, or in someone else.
A seedy motel in Utah, where she traced the lines of his tattoos and he mapped out the curves of her body.
She shakes her head to clear it and the smile creeps back.
When she gets back into the car he greets her with a long, slow, deep kiss.
“Missed me, huh?”
“You could say that.” He smiles wryly before turning the car onto a dirt road. They pull up beside a cabin that seems strangely like home to Sara.
“Oh, Michael,” she sighs, climbing out of the car and leaning against the door.
He comes around to stand beside her. “Yeah, that’s what I though when I first saw it. Not the ‘oh Michael’ part, but you know…” he trails off as she laughs and hits him on the shoulder.
He hands her a key and she takes his hand, pulling him up the steps and unlocking the door. The dry scent of wood slips out and surrounds Sara, and she breathes in deeply.
Tomorrow she'll be rolling down I-10
Baton Rouge, LSU
18 years in her rearview
“Whose…who owns this place, Michael?” Normally, she wouldn’t even ask. Normally, she doesn’t. But this house is so beautiful, she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. She did manage to restrain herself until after dinner, but she has to ask.
He hesitates for a second, giving her that elusive look she’s so used to, but she levels him with a stare. He grins and turns around, walking over to the window before replying.
“It’s mine, actually.”
“You own this place? You…wait, we’ve been sneaking around all over the goddamn country and you own a house?”
“Well, I didn’t know how safe it would be to come back here after everything. I was being careful.”
“Oh, now you’re careful?” Her tone is accusatory was he can see the laughter in her eyes.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, examining a chunk of bread. “I’m always careful.”
“Oh, you carefully broke into prison and carefully broke out again and carefully - wait, you actually did.”
“See?” He bites into the bread triumphantly and Sara can’t help but laugh.
“Control freak.”
“I am not a control freak.”
“Yeah, you are.” She leans back on the sofa casually, lifting her feet to tuck them under her.
Michael stands and makes his way over to her, grabbing a bottle of red wine off the table on the way. He sits down beside her and eyes the bottle.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“We don’t have a corkscrew.”
Sara bursts out laughing again.
“Well, it’s not like the family really had time to stock up the house recently.”
“Not…why…I’m laughing,” she manages.
“So why are you laughing?” He leans down, so close to her that their noses were almost touching.
“The look…on your face…” Her laughter trails off and she looks up at him silently.
And she says
"I don't want this night to end
Why does it have to end?"
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a screw and…a fork? Or something?”
“What?”
“To get the cork out.”
“Uh…” He returns to the living room with the aforementioned tools and she sets to work on the cork.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Not a clue.”
“Okay.” He sits back, still watching to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.
Yeah that's what my momma told me
The cork comes out with a pop and Sara squeals triumphantly. Michael cracks a grin, retrieving it from across the room.
“Well done.”
“Thank you.”
They look at each other for a moment, before Sara breaks the silence. “You got any glasses?”
“Uh. No.”
They drink the wine straight from the bottle in front of the fire.
They take one last drive around town
And man it already looks different
Sara gets up and goes to the window, looking out over the dark land.
“It’s snowing!” she says gleefully, beckoning Michael over to the window. He comes over and wraps an arm around her.
“Let’s have a snowball fight,” she exclaims impulsively, and he shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“Well, throwing things at you isn’t really all that high on my list of things to do that are fun.”
She rolls her eyes. “Come on Michael, it is fun.”
So he lets her drag him outside into the and she throws snowballs at him while halfheartedly pretends to try and fend them off.
“Oh, you’re no fun.” She comes over and leans into him, while he covers her with his arms, shielding them both from anything but here and now.
Yeah, there’s nothing you can do
There’s nothing you can say
They both grow silent, each thinking about what the morning will inevitably bring. He will leave. And she will leave, in the opposite direction.
He bangs the wheel and says
"Life ain't fair
And this growing up stuff, man, I don't know
I just don't wanna let you go"
“It won’t always be like this, Sara,” he murmurs into her hair.
“Don’t,” she whispers. He keeps saying it, he’s always saying it. She believes him, she really does, but she can’t think about it not being like this until it isn’t like this anymore. It’s too hard otherwise.
And I know how it feels when love goes away
Hours later, they lie tangled in each other, neither close to sleep. Sara lifts her head to meet his lips, before pulling his arms tighter around her. He wordlessly obliges, burying his head in her hair and kissing her shoulder.
But here it is
They don’t have long
And they are silent, in the dark of the uncertainty they face.
The night before life goes on
Sneaking a smoke by the chimney
Checking out the moon
And the city lights
Sara lifts a hand, rubbing it over her neck anxiously. It doesn’t matter how many times it happens, whenever she picks up the phone and hears his voice, she packs a bag and gets the first flight out.
They always met in a different place, and she never knew where it’d be until he called. Or how long it would be between calls.
She chews her thumb nervously, stomping her feet to ward off the cold and looking around the parking lot, wondering why on earth there would be a parking lot at the bottom of a mountain. Her eyes light on a track of some kind and she rolls them.
“God, Michael, do you honestly expect me to climb that?”
“Well, only if you’re feeling unfit.”
Sara spins around, seeing Michael’s slow grin cross his face before throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms wrap tightly around her shoulders and pull her even closer, resting his chin on her head.
“Hi.” Sara pulls back to get a good look at him.
“Hi yourself.” The haunted look in his eyes that had lingered since she’d known him is diminishing slowly over time, although Sara knows the cautious joy in his eyes whenever he sees her hides it well.
As they walk to the car (hers. His had been dumped…somewhere. As usual. Sara doesn’t even want to know), his hand comes up to absentmindedly brush his fingers over her hair. Those were the moments she loved him the most. The moments where he wasn’t the dangerous fugitive and she wasn’t the ex-junkie ex-prison doctor. The moments where they weren’t people to be wary or sacred of. The moments where they were just two people.
Two people who loved each other.
He takes off his flannel shirt
And he drapes it around her shoulders
Slides up behind her and holds on tight
He puts the worn blue cap on her head and she adjusts it with a fleeting smile before sliding out of her seat and running into the grocery store. There’s no need anymore for the hat, if anything, he needs it, sitting in the car, but they’ve done it so many times now.
As she wanders through the store (she knows he won’t mind if she takes some time. Nobody’s going to recognize him here) her fingers play over the brim of the hat and she drifts away for a moment, to so many different times and places. All with him, though.
A hotel room in Seattle, she’d been wearing nothing but a sheet and he grinned at her from the foot of the bed.
A crumbling cottage in Columbine, where she tangled her fingers in the ivy on the walls and he tangled his fingers in hers.
Under the pier at Santa Monica, splashing each other before he pressed her up against the wood and cupped her face in his hands.
A high rise building in Manhattan, the tallest building she’d ever been in, and when she’d asked him how the hell he’d gotten in here, he touched a finger to her lips.
A cheap duplex in Utah where he’d made her eggs for breakfast and she’d made him steak for dinner.
On a blanket in Central Park, where he’d shown her how easy it was to lose yourself in the city, or in someone else.
A seedy motel in Utah, where she traced the lines of his tattoos and he mapped out the curves of her body.
She shakes her head to clear it and the smile creeps back.
When she gets back into the car he greets her with a long, slow, deep kiss.
“Missed me, huh?”
“You could say that.” He smiles wryly before turning the car onto a dirt road. They pull up beside a cabin that seems strangely like home to Sara.
“Oh, Michael,” she sighs, climbing out of the car and leaning against the door.
He comes around to stand beside her. “Yeah, that’s what I though when I first saw it. Not the ‘oh Michael’ part, but you know…” he trails off as she laughs and hits him on the shoulder.
He hands her a key and she takes his hand, pulling him up the steps and unlocking the door. The dry scent of wood slips out and surrounds Sara, and she breathes in deeply.
Tomorrow she'll be rolling down I-10
Baton Rouge, LSU
18 years in her rearview
“Whose…who owns this place, Michael?” Normally, she wouldn’t even ask. Normally, she doesn’t. But this house is so beautiful, she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. She did manage to restrain herself until after dinner, but she has to ask.
He hesitates for a second, giving her that elusive look she’s so used to, but she levels him with a stare. He grins and turns around, walking over to the window before replying.
“It’s mine, actually.”
“You own this place? You…wait, we’ve been sneaking around all over the goddamn country and you own a house?”
“Well, I didn’t know how safe it would be to come back here after everything. I was being careful.”
“Oh, now you’re careful?” Her tone is accusatory was he can see the laughter in her eyes.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, examining a chunk of bread. “I’m always careful.”
“Oh, you carefully broke into prison and carefully broke out again and carefully - wait, you actually did.”
“See?” He bites into the bread triumphantly and Sara can’t help but laugh.
“Control freak.”
“I am not a control freak.”
“Yeah, you are.” She leans back on the sofa casually, lifting her feet to tuck them under her.
Michael stands and makes his way over to her, grabbing a bottle of red wine off the table on the way. He sits down beside her and eyes the bottle.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“We don’t have a corkscrew.”
Sara bursts out laughing again.
“Well, it’s not like the family really had time to stock up the house recently.”
“Not…why…I’m laughing,” she manages.
“So why are you laughing?” He leans down, so close to her that their noses were almost touching.
“The look…on your face…” Her laughter trails off and she looks up at him silently.
And she says
"I don't want this night to end
Why does it have to end?"
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a screw and…a fork? Or something?”
“What?”
“To get the cork out.”
“Uh…” He returns to the living room with the aforementioned tools and she sets to work on the cork.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Not a clue.”
“Okay.” He sits back, still watching to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.
Yeah that's what my momma told me
The cork comes out with a pop and Sara squeals triumphantly. Michael cracks a grin, retrieving it from across the room.
“Well done.”
“Thank you.”
They look at each other for a moment, before Sara breaks the silence. “You got any glasses?”
“Uh. No.”
They drink the wine straight from the bottle in front of the fire.
They take one last drive around town
And man it already looks different
Sara gets up and goes to the window, looking out over the dark land.
“It’s snowing!” she says gleefully, beckoning Michael over to the window. He comes over and wraps an arm around her.
“Let’s have a snowball fight,” she exclaims impulsively, and he shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“Well, throwing things at you isn’t really all that high on my list of things to do that are fun.”
She rolls her eyes. “Come on Michael, it is fun.”
So he lets her drag him outside into the and she throws snowballs at him while halfheartedly pretends to try and fend them off.
“Oh, you’re no fun.” She comes over and leans into him, while he covers her with his arms, shielding them both from anything but here and now.
Yeah, there’s nothing you can do
There’s nothing you can say
They both grow silent, each thinking about what the morning will inevitably bring. He will leave. And she will leave, in the opposite direction.
He bangs the wheel and says
"Life ain't fair
And this growing up stuff, man, I don't know
I just don't wanna let you go"
“It won’t always be like this, Sara,” he murmurs into her hair.
“Don’t,” she whispers. He keeps saying it, he’s always saying it. She believes him, she really does, but she can’t think about it not being like this until it isn’t like this anymore. It’s too hard otherwise.
And I know how it feels when love goes away
Hours later, they lie tangled in each other, neither close to sleep. Sara lifts her head to meet his lips, before pulling his arms tighter around her. He wordlessly obliges, burying his head in her hair and kissing her shoulder.
But here it is
They don’t have long
And they are silent, in the dark of the uncertainty they face.
The night before life goes on