Michael/Sara oneshot
Title: See You on the Other Side
Show: Prison Break
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Rating: G
Words: 840
Summary: "Just so you know," he says, and her eyes meet his with hesitant expectation, "I have no plans to die today."
Author's notes: Many thanks to poisonshades for the read-through, corrections and suggestions as well as her kind support. Comments are appreciated.
See You on the Other Side
Michael finds her in the bathroom; not by accident, despite the instinctual expression of surprise on his face, but by a careful process of elimination - boat, upstairs, outside. Perhaps the expression comes from the undeniable fact that he is still, for a brief moment, taken by surprise every time he sees her, alive and breathing; the most beautiful of miracles.
Sara is staring into the mirror but turns swiftly to meet his gaze, her loose ponytail flicking behind her, auburn warped to cyan in the harsh fluorescent lighting. It was impossible not to notice the sheer whiteness of her skin, something he knew was not a result of the light, but a result, and stark reminder, of emotions she buries. The smooth white skin surrounds facial features, which fail miserably in their attempt to fabricate a happy demeanour. An attempt made for him, he knows.
"We've gotta go soon," she says, filling the silence and not letting him start the conversation, not letting him start a different one altogether. She'd noticed his look of concern for her, clearly outweighing the fear for himself and the day's proceedings. She wanted to shake sense in to him, beg him to have just an ounce of selfishness.
"Yeah," he agrees with a whispered word and subtle nod. "Just so you know," he says, and her eyes meet his with hesitant expectation, "I have no plans to die today."
Sara's mouth drops open a little at his blunt yet strangely beautiful words, but she has no idea if the sound that leaves it is a laugh or a cry. She doesn't know much of her own emotion anymore, and longs for the day when the only thing - or at least the primary thing - she feels is happiness. If such a day will ever come.
Michael clearly, and typically, takes her sound as a cry and reaches for her with a caution she hopes one day will cease. She rigidly falls into his arms as she clamours for the strength she once held so dear, the strength she fears now only comes from his presence beside her.
"You'd better not," she says strongly yet quietly as she buries her face in his chest. He holds her gently and with a peaceful stillness she wished would linger for eternity.
He remembers her words from last week, after he had - with all the right intentions - tried to bring about her leaving, to get her away from the dangers always near. "Or you'd kill me?" Michael teases with a smile he doesn't need to fake.
"Something like that," Sara whispers and he waits for a moment, the slight waver in her voice unsettling him.
"Shame I'd already be dead," he suddenly says and she quickly leans back only a slight distance, just to look him in the face and see the childlike smile he wears ever so mischievously. She tries to smile for him, she really does. But despite her best efforts, she fails. Not wanting him to see, she drops her face back down to his chest.
"Hey," he says, dropping a hand to the back of her head, sliding it to the nape of her neck and gently encouraging her to lift her head. "Look at me." And she does. Unquestioningly. He strokes her neck with his thumb, breaking through her soft hair. "This is a good thing, Sara. The surgery," he tries not to stumble on that word, one he'd avoided saying purely out of sheer resistance to the idea. "It's what you wanted, remember?" It's not an accusation, not in the least. It's a gentle reminder meant to reassure her.
"I didn't want it. The thought of you..." she stops as her voice breaks and swallows in an attempt to disregard the thought and regain composure. "But you need it." She's not being pedantic, and she knows he knows it. She just wants him to know it's not easy for her to face what will happen today, for she knows he is scared, just as she is, even if there's no way he'll admit it. "I know I was the one who told you had to have the surgery, and you do," she pauses for a moment. "But, God, I wish you didn't. I just wish you were well," she says with complete openness and honesty.
"If I could make it so I was well, just like that, then trust me I would," he says and she nods with a slight smile. "But Sara, I will be. I will be," he says with no doubt. She nods furiously, forcing herself to believe him. She blinks back the water that coats her eyes, feeling foolish for her worry and panic.
"Okay." Sara accepts that his words are true; illogically, but in a desperate attempt to carry the optimism he once spoke of, long ago when they were close to being just strangers. She'll believe that he'll be okay, because he said so, and because now, that's all she can do.
Show: Prison Break
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Rating: G
Words: 840
Summary: "Just so you know," he says, and her eyes meet his with hesitant expectation, "I have no plans to die today."
Author's notes: Many thanks to poisonshades for the read-through, corrections and suggestions as well as her kind support. Comments are appreciated.
See You on the Other Side
Michael finds her in the bathroom; not by accident, despite the instinctual expression of surprise on his face, but by a careful process of elimination - boat, upstairs, outside. Perhaps the expression comes from the undeniable fact that he is still, for a brief moment, taken by surprise every time he sees her, alive and breathing; the most beautiful of miracles.
Sara is staring into the mirror but turns swiftly to meet his gaze, her loose ponytail flicking behind her, auburn warped to cyan in the harsh fluorescent lighting. It was impossible not to notice the sheer whiteness of her skin, something he knew was not a result of the light, but a result, and stark reminder, of emotions she buries. The smooth white skin surrounds facial features, which fail miserably in their attempt to fabricate a happy demeanour. An attempt made for him, he knows.
"We've gotta go soon," she says, filling the silence and not letting him start the conversation, not letting him start a different one altogether. She'd noticed his look of concern for her, clearly outweighing the fear for himself and the day's proceedings. She wanted to shake sense in to him, beg him to have just an ounce of selfishness.
"Yeah," he agrees with a whispered word and subtle nod. "Just so you know," he says, and her eyes meet his with hesitant expectation, "I have no plans to die today."
Sara's mouth drops open a little at his blunt yet strangely beautiful words, but she has no idea if the sound that leaves it is a laugh or a cry. She doesn't know much of her own emotion anymore, and longs for the day when the only thing - or at least the primary thing - she feels is happiness. If such a day will ever come.
Michael clearly, and typically, takes her sound as a cry and reaches for her with a caution she hopes one day will cease. She rigidly falls into his arms as she clamours for the strength she once held so dear, the strength she fears now only comes from his presence beside her.
"You'd better not," she says strongly yet quietly as she buries her face in his chest. He holds her gently and with a peaceful stillness she wished would linger for eternity.
He remembers her words from last week, after he had - with all the right intentions - tried to bring about her leaving, to get her away from the dangers always near. "Or you'd kill me?" Michael teases with a smile he doesn't need to fake.
"Something like that," Sara whispers and he waits for a moment, the slight waver in her voice unsettling him.
"Shame I'd already be dead," he suddenly says and she quickly leans back only a slight distance, just to look him in the face and see the childlike smile he wears ever so mischievously. She tries to smile for him, she really does. But despite her best efforts, she fails. Not wanting him to see, she drops her face back down to his chest.
"Hey," he says, dropping a hand to the back of her head, sliding it to the nape of her neck and gently encouraging her to lift her head. "Look at me." And she does. Unquestioningly. He strokes her neck with his thumb, breaking through her soft hair. "This is a good thing, Sara. The surgery," he tries not to stumble on that word, one he'd avoided saying purely out of sheer resistance to the idea. "It's what you wanted, remember?" It's not an accusation, not in the least. It's a gentle reminder meant to reassure her.
"I didn't want it. The thought of you..." she stops as her voice breaks and swallows in an attempt to disregard the thought and regain composure. "But you need it." She's not being pedantic, and she knows he knows it. She just wants him to know it's not easy for her to face what will happen today, for she knows he is scared, just as she is, even if there's no way he'll admit it. "I know I was the one who told you had to have the surgery, and you do," she pauses for a moment. "But, God, I wish you didn't. I just wish you were well," she says with complete openness and honesty.
"If I could make it so I was well, just like that, then trust me I would," he says and she nods with a slight smile. "But Sara, I will be. I will be," he says with no doubt. She nods furiously, forcing herself to believe him. She blinks back the water that coats her eyes, feeling foolish for her worry and panic.
"Okay." Sara accepts that his words are true; illogically, but in a desperate attempt to carry the optimism he once spoke of, long ago when they were close to being just strangers. She'll believe that he'll be okay, because he said so, and because now, that's all she can do.