The El-Nino Chronicles Part 2
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Other Characters: Nurse Katie
Category: AU, General
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Strange weather patterns have changed the whole dynamic of Fox River.
Michael and Sara are a bit confused but Katie doesn't seem to notice yet. She's still interrupting.
Thanks for the feedback regarding Part 1.
She doesn’t miss a beat, she can’t let up because the situation is going nowhere for her. Fast.
“Scofield? Like the Governor?” There it is, facial movement. No eye contact. Rapid blinking of his lashes. She has something. Like a terrier mongrel at the flared pants of an old lady, she grips for all it’s worth. Even though it might make him more reticent, even though any anguish he may feel will dull those beautiful orbs.
“You’re not related are you?” More twitching. Fast and furious filling out of paper work with those incredibly protracted fingers. She hasn’t noticed them until now. Back on task.
She turns away, hoping for effect and “hhmphs.” Still no reaction.
“Wouldn’t expect you’d find the son of Cowgirl Posse Caroline working in a prison? As a doctor, no less.” Sara tries to make the final remark more casual statement than question. It is the impetus she needs for him to re-establish eye contact, though, and she feels something akin to relief.
Michael feels the immediate need to justify. Something about her attitude, or the way she wears that green prison garb, makes him respond to a conversation he would completely ignore with every other inmate. “I believe in being part of the solution, not the problem.”
Gotcha.
Sara recalls the dossier about Doctor Michael Scofield without having to refer to anything within the realms of her body art. She knows his humanitarian inclination, she’s aware of his mother’s political agenda and how his motivations appear totally different. She can even state his senior year quote. Verbatim.
She smiles what she hopes is her most delicious, sincere smile, blinks for effect and launches the missile for connection.
“Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”
The reaction is swift, definite and more than she could have anticipated. A lot like everything about him. Sara is momentarily stunned by the slight smile, the tickle blush around the cheek bones and the waterfall cascade of his eyes. For about the fifth time in the dialogue she is supposed to be directing, she searches for composure and the upper hand.
“What?” she asks, hoping she appears nonchalant.
Michael can’t really believe what he is hearing. First, the appearance of a prisoner who is the most naturally attractive woman he has ever seen (that green sweatshirt really needs to be grey). Then, the reaction his mind and body has to this short interaction with her. Finally, what? She’s quoting stuff at him? What the hell! She’s waiting for an answer, and again, Michael just can’t deny her.
“Nothing. That was just my senior quote.” He looks down, a little embarrassed about how far she is dragging him under her spell. Next she’ll have him telling her his favourite restaurant. His preferred music, his drug of choice.
Sara is ready and the plan is back on track. Finally. Even though she can’t deny the melted chocolate sensation of his voice in her ears. “That was you?” she begins, surprised. She looks away quickly, then gives the doctor her full attention. “This whole time I was thinking it was GBS!”
Michael can’t help it. She’s pretty funny. She’s pretty. He knows she’s flirting and playing him but damnit, he’s enjoying himself. He hasn’t had the attention of a beautiful woman for a while, he’s been such a workaholic lately. So, she’s using the prison infirmary as a single’s bar. But it’s all in good fun. Katie’s here, isn’t she? The prison nurse is always supervising....oh, he looks around in the midst of his belly laugh...whoa, she’s stepped out to talk to Bea, the guard?
“Ha, you’re really funny,” he needs a moment (Katie? Assistance? Supervision?). “Sit tight, put direct pressure on that, I’ll be back in a sec.”
Michael gets up and moves quickly to the small glassed office adjoining the exam room. He can’t seem to wipe the silly grin he knows is ghosting his face, but he does everything he can to moderate his breathing. He begins to feel the tightening of the stethoscope around his collar, so he slips it off and absently puts it on his desk. He feels better prepared to broach the next part of their consultation now. He puts the George Bernard Shaw rocket to the back of his mind and tries to catch Katie’s eye. She nods a form of apology, finishes with Bea and meets Michael at the exam room door. Sara smiles at both of them as they enter and Michael hopes his cheeky nurse has not heard the catch in his breath. He is sure he can feel Katie’s sideward glance.
“So, how do we do this, the insulin?” Sara likes to initiate, trying to regain the modicum of control she believes she has established. She has already chatted to Katie, found her reasonable and friendly. Michael is not going to be as easy to manipulate. His taxidermist photos and Google bio do not take into account the ample expanse of chest beneath the old lab coat, either. It is little wonder, really, why she had heard inmates refer to him in such terms as “bitch boy, horn healer, doc sex....”well, the list went on.
The trio trades cordial conversation regarding Sara’s diabetic maintenance. She continues to try appearing both charming yet demure, a very tricky combination considering her natural personality pattern. Sticking to the plan is a must though, especially considering the little time she has to ensure her sister’s safety.
Michael mentions she must attend the infirmary each day in order to obtain her insulin. Although she knows this, is counting on this to secure the best route out of this hellhole, she thinks it will be a nice touch to act surprised. “Oh, so your not going to just hook me up to my own supply, I mean I have been administering this stuff to myself for nearly half my life.” She dimples and exchanges glances with Katie before totally absorbing Michael into her sights.
He dips his head, mutters something about hypos on the floor and makes even further notes on her chart. At this rate, being her first consultation and all, she’s going to have more paperwork about her condition than the rest of the inmates combined. She knows it’s giving him something to do. Something other than look at her. Something to protect himself from Katie’s inquisitive sixth sense.
“I’m the furthest thing from a junkie, trust me doctor,” Sara states simply, wondering why she wants him to know she hasn’t the same destructive behaviors as ninety-nine percent of the other prisoners.
His nurse has moved towards the corner of the room to attend to tray preparation. Michael feels his body stiffen slightly and he lifts his head to look at her. She hasn’t been incarcerated for long, the effects of daily prison rigors are not yet reflected upon her face. Maybe, they never will be. She carries herself with the wonderful posture of a trained dancer. She expresses herself with a majestic command of language and understanding. She has not uttered an audible obscenity in the last fifteen minutes, a record for his time at Fox River. She sits in her chair now, perfectly straight, as though sipping tea at an afternoon recital. Every other single patient he consulted in here would have slumped in his presence, told him to bite them, fuck them, kill them. Or, at least, have flung a series of well-worded insults in his face when informing them of their daily infirmary visit.
He chooses his next words carefully.
“Well Sara, you’ll find the words ‘trust me’ have very little meaning inside these walls.” He wants to add the afterthoughts of “unfortunately” and “be careful”.
Luckily, he refuses this absurd notion because he is aware of Katie hovering, tray in hand.
“Now Ms. Tancredi, as I mentioned earlier we are aware of your fresh tattoo.” He is all business as he takes a pair of latex gloves and a variety of swabs from the tray Katie has presented “During your orientation, the registrar noted it look a bit....um, angry, I think she said.” He is looking down again at his chart, so he misses Sara’s hesitancy. A flash of worry clouds her vision, replaced by the face of her sister, Veronica. She quickly works to make her expression benign as Michael continues. She knows what he is going to say. He wants to see her tattoo, he wants to probe it and comment on it. Sara knew it had taken the registrar’s breath away and she hopes it is not due to anything the medicos have said to one another that Michael wants to see it.
“It’s fine, really, doctor. Just newish and on fresh skin. I, ah, .....”
For the first time, he interrupts. Sara feels control seeping ever so slightly from her grasp.
“Look, we see lots of body art. I want to protect you from any infection of the skin. If I can evaluate it now and compare it to the registrar’s comments, I’ll know it’s on it’s way to complete recovery. I can’t let you walk out of here with an infection like that possible. Um, did you know Ms Tancredi, some bodies can actually reject a tattoo?”
She has never seen such a provocative, teasing smile. Ever. It is almost as if he is mouthing “relax, show me your tattoo while my mouth seduces the worry from your body and my eyes actually blind you of thought”. His next words merely attempt to penetrate the haze he has created. “Yes, ma’am. Some bodies hate the tattoos so much that the ink is repelled from the skin and falls on the floor.”
Katie is laughing quietly, Michael is clearly enjoying his own ridiculous joke. “Then the ground absorbs the color of the ink and the tattoo is never seen again.”
“Vaporized?” inquires Katie.
“Yes K, just like Dorothy did to the Wicked Witch of the West on her way to Oz......”
Sara blinks straight ahead. What? Huh? A sister on death row? Tattoos falling off skin, Dorothy and Oz? A prison doctor who has a skull and other parts she wants to fondle, a sister on death row, a fantastic plan? A doctor who calls his nurse by her initial, a sister on death row, an infected tattoo falling off her skin onto her cellmate sleeping below....?
Saraaaaaa!
“Ok, tattoo time, may we see it please, Sara?”
Michael Scofield has his no nonsense voice on now. Sara is still in a daze as she is led to the exam table by Katie. She is still drowning in thoughts on her way to Emerald City as she resigns herself to the Doctor’s perusal and lays down behind the privacy curtain.
Sighing in resignation, she lifts the bottom of her shirt towards her head.
Other Characters: Nurse Katie
Category: AU, General
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Strange weather patterns have changed the whole dynamic of Fox River.
Michael and Sara are a bit confused but Katie doesn't seem to notice yet. She's still interrupting.
Thanks for the feedback regarding Part 1.
She doesn’t miss a beat, she can’t let up because the situation is going nowhere for her. Fast.
“Scofield? Like the Governor?” There it is, facial movement. No eye contact. Rapid blinking of his lashes. She has something. Like a terrier mongrel at the flared pants of an old lady, she grips for all it’s worth. Even though it might make him more reticent, even though any anguish he may feel will dull those beautiful orbs.
“You’re not related are you?” More twitching. Fast and furious filling out of paper work with those incredibly protracted fingers. She hasn’t noticed them until now. Back on task.
She turns away, hoping for effect and “hhmphs.” Still no reaction.
“Wouldn’t expect you’d find the son of Cowgirl Posse Caroline working in a prison? As a doctor, no less.” Sara tries to make the final remark more casual statement than question. It is the impetus she needs for him to re-establish eye contact, though, and she feels something akin to relief.
Michael feels the immediate need to justify. Something about her attitude, or the way she wears that green prison garb, makes him respond to a conversation he would completely ignore with every other inmate. “I believe in being part of the solution, not the problem.”
Gotcha.
Sara recalls the dossier about Doctor Michael Scofield without having to refer to anything within the realms of her body art. She knows his humanitarian inclination, she’s aware of his mother’s political agenda and how his motivations appear totally different. She can even state his senior year quote. Verbatim.
She smiles what she hopes is her most delicious, sincere smile, blinks for effect and launches the missile for connection.
“Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”
The reaction is swift, definite and more than she could have anticipated. A lot like everything about him. Sara is momentarily stunned by the slight smile, the tickle blush around the cheek bones and the waterfall cascade of his eyes. For about the fifth time in the dialogue she is supposed to be directing, she searches for composure and the upper hand.
“What?” she asks, hoping she appears nonchalant.
Michael can’t really believe what he is hearing. First, the appearance of a prisoner who is the most naturally attractive woman he has ever seen (that green sweatshirt really needs to be grey). Then, the reaction his mind and body has to this short interaction with her. Finally, what? She’s quoting stuff at him? What the hell! She’s waiting for an answer, and again, Michael just can’t deny her.
“Nothing. That was just my senior quote.” He looks down, a little embarrassed about how far she is dragging him under her spell. Next she’ll have him telling her his favourite restaurant. His preferred music, his drug of choice.
Sara is ready and the plan is back on track. Finally. Even though she can’t deny the melted chocolate sensation of his voice in her ears. “That was you?” she begins, surprised. She looks away quickly, then gives the doctor her full attention. “This whole time I was thinking it was GBS!”
Michael can’t help it. She’s pretty funny. She’s pretty. He knows she’s flirting and playing him but damnit, he’s enjoying himself. He hasn’t had the attention of a beautiful woman for a while, he’s been such a workaholic lately. So, she’s using the prison infirmary as a single’s bar. But it’s all in good fun. Katie’s here, isn’t she? The prison nurse is always supervising....oh, he looks around in the midst of his belly laugh...whoa, she’s stepped out to talk to Bea, the guard?
“Ha, you’re really funny,” he needs a moment (Katie? Assistance? Supervision?). “Sit tight, put direct pressure on that, I’ll be back in a sec.”
Michael gets up and moves quickly to the small glassed office adjoining the exam room. He can’t seem to wipe the silly grin he knows is ghosting his face, but he does everything he can to moderate his breathing. He begins to feel the tightening of the stethoscope around his collar, so he slips it off and absently puts it on his desk. He feels better prepared to broach the next part of their consultation now. He puts the George Bernard Shaw rocket to the back of his mind and tries to catch Katie’s eye. She nods a form of apology, finishes with Bea and meets Michael at the exam room door. Sara smiles at both of them as they enter and Michael hopes his cheeky nurse has not heard the catch in his breath. He is sure he can feel Katie’s sideward glance.
“So, how do we do this, the insulin?” Sara likes to initiate, trying to regain the modicum of control she believes she has established. She has already chatted to Katie, found her reasonable and friendly. Michael is not going to be as easy to manipulate. His taxidermist photos and Google bio do not take into account the ample expanse of chest beneath the old lab coat, either. It is little wonder, really, why she had heard inmates refer to him in such terms as “bitch boy, horn healer, doc sex....”well, the list went on.
The trio trades cordial conversation regarding Sara’s diabetic maintenance. She continues to try appearing both charming yet demure, a very tricky combination considering her natural personality pattern. Sticking to the plan is a must though, especially considering the little time she has to ensure her sister’s safety.
Michael mentions she must attend the infirmary each day in order to obtain her insulin. Although she knows this, is counting on this to secure the best route out of this hellhole, she thinks it will be a nice touch to act surprised. “Oh, so your not going to just hook me up to my own supply, I mean I have been administering this stuff to myself for nearly half my life.” She dimples and exchanges glances with Katie before totally absorbing Michael into her sights.
He dips his head, mutters something about hypos on the floor and makes even further notes on her chart. At this rate, being her first consultation and all, she’s going to have more paperwork about her condition than the rest of the inmates combined. She knows it’s giving him something to do. Something other than look at her. Something to protect himself from Katie’s inquisitive sixth sense.
“I’m the furthest thing from a junkie, trust me doctor,” Sara states simply, wondering why she wants him to know she hasn’t the same destructive behaviors as ninety-nine percent of the other prisoners.
His nurse has moved towards the corner of the room to attend to tray preparation. Michael feels his body stiffen slightly and he lifts his head to look at her. She hasn’t been incarcerated for long, the effects of daily prison rigors are not yet reflected upon her face. Maybe, they never will be. She carries herself with the wonderful posture of a trained dancer. She expresses herself with a majestic command of language and understanding. She has not uttered an audible obscenity in the last fifteen minutes, a record for his time at Fox River. She sits in her chair now, perfectly straight, as though sipping tea at an afternoon recital. Every other single patient he consulted in here would have slumped in his presence, told him to bite them, fuck them, kill them. Or, at least, have flung a series of well-worded insults in his face when informing them of their daily infirmary visit.
He chooses his next words carefully.
“Well Sara, you’ll find the words ‘trust me’ have very little meaning inside these walls.” He wants to add the afterthoughts of “unfortunately” and “be careful”.
Luckily, he refuses this absurd notion because he is aware of Katie hovering, tray in hand.
“Now Ms. Tancredi, as I mentioned earlier we are aware of your fresh tattoo.” He is all business as he takes a pair of latex gloves and a variety of swabs from the tray Katie has presented “During your orientation, the registrar noted it look a bit....um, angry, I think she said.” He is looking down again at his chart, so he misses Sara’s hesitancy. A flash of worry clouds her vision, replaced by the face of her sister, Veronica. She quickly works to make her expression benign as Michael continues. She knows what he is going to say. He wants to see her tattoo, he wants to probe it and comment on it. Sara knew it had taken the registrar’s breath away and she hopes it is not due to anything the medicos have said to one another that Michael wants to see it.
“It’s fine, really, doctor. Just newish and on fresh skin. I, ah, .....”
For the first time, he interrupts. Sara feels control seeping ever so slightly from her grasp.
“Look, we see lots of body art. I want to protect you from any infection of the skin. If I can evaluate it now and compare it to the registrar’s comments, I’ll know it’s on it’s way to complete recovery. I can’t let you walk out of here with an infection like that possible. Um, did you know Ms Tancredi, some bodies can actually reject a tattoo?”
She has never seen such a provocative, teasing smile. Ever. It is almost as if he is mouthing “relax, show me your tattoo while my mouth seduces the worry from your body and my eyes actually blind you of thought”. His next words merely attempt to penetrate the haze he has created. “Yes, ma’am. Some bodies hate the tattoos so much that the ink is repelled from the skin and falls on the floor.”
Katie is laughing quietly, Michael is clearly enjoying his own ridiculous joke. “Then the ground absorbs the color of the ink and the tattoo is never seen again.”
“Vaporized?” inquires Katie.
“Yes K, just like Dorothy did to the Wicked Witch of the West on her way to Oz......”
Sara blinks straight ahead. What? Huh? A sister on death row? Tattoos falling off skin, Dorothy and Oz? A prison doctor who has a skull and other parts she wants to fondle, a sister on death row, a fantastic plan? A doctor who calls his nurse by her initial, a sister on death row, an infected tattoo falling off her skin onto her cellmate sleeping below....?
Saraaaaaa!
“Ok, tattoo time, may we see it please, Sara?”
Michael Scofield has his no nonsense voice on now. Sara is still in a daze as she is led to the exam table by Katie. She is still drowning in thoughts on her way to Emerald City as she resigns herself to the Doctor’s perusal and lays down behind the privacy curtain.
Sighing in resignation, she lifts the bottom of her shirt towards her head.