"And She Was", for snowwhite22
Title: And She Was
Author: To Be Revealed
Rating: R, NC-17
Category: Angst, Romance, PWP
Characters: Sara, Sara/Michael
Requested by: snowwhite22
Summary: Loving Michael was not something she could turn off, but lately she really understood her mother’s need to escape.
Warnings: Spoilers up to and including episode 4.16.
Author's Notes: The prompts requested were, Michael and Sara finding a reason to be together outside of their extreme situation (something they may have in common), indulging in food and the quote “Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.” For those who recognize the title - yes, it is from the Talking Heads song.
And She Was
“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”
~Rainer Maria Rilke
Sara tried really hard to be patient. For all that time, all those days, patience was her mantra. But she could feel herself unraveling and she hated the feeling. She’d felt it before, the feeling that all of the threads of her life were disentangling to the point where she could no longer distinguish herself.
She knew what would happen then; how she would disengage, break down, and for her this was never a pretty sight.
*
She knew the past few weeks had been hard, especially for him. She had told herself over and over that he was sick as she watched him pull away from her, immersing himself, obsessing, over their cause. She accepted the lack of physical contact, the unfulfilled promises and finally the absence of emotional support.
Because some things were more important than two people who wanted to be together.
*
She’d told herself, and more than once him, that she had been a doctor once. She had thought, that first time in the train bathroom, that the idea had been a painful one to admit, but he had assured her she would get that back. He had been so confident and sincere then, that even with her particular brand of cynicism she had almost believed him. Still, the sentiment had warmed her.
The last time she mentioned it he hadn’t even bothered to look at her.
*
She had never wanted to be like her mother.
Most importantly, she had never wanted to be with a man like her father.
Just before the meeting with Senator Dallow, she had put herself on the line and told him that he never had to worry about her leaving him; that nothing would ever come between them. And even though he gave her his trademark smirk he had answered with that comment about everything being okay. She knew then she had to walk away or lash out in anger.
Anger is not what she wanted to be feeling right before facing danger again. So she had thrown the pack of cards down and left the room, clenching her jaw and her fists.
Still, at the bus stop, when she realized he’d tried to give her and Fernando a way out of the mess, she also realized that what she had told him was true - she couldn’t leave him, no matter how mad he made her. Nothing would come between them.
Except maybe him.
*
Watching him during the operation was amongst the worst moments of her life.
She had already been frantic with worry, but when the heart monitor flat lined, she didn’t think she had ever felt such dread.
Not even when her mother had died - that had been a long time coming.
If she was honest, even when her father had been killed she had felt fear and sorrow, but not that soul stopping dread which made her own heart want to jump out of her chest in panic.
*
She hated the sound of panic in her voice as she told Lincoln her concerns, but his brush-off just fueled the anxiety she could barely manage.
She didn’t even think about the ramifications of stealing the jeep. All she could think of was getting to him in time to prevent what Lisa had been referring to, and which her mind just wanted to shy away from.
Ramming the other vehicle had been easy. The sight of him in the middle of the road, hands moving into the air as he faced off with them - it was no contest.
But the total silence which followed grated on her nerves and she knew the short reprieve was over as all her previous worries had come flooding back.
He said something about his mother being alive.
What did it take to make him see her?
Her mood oscillated drastically until her own neediness threatened to send her over the edge.
*
The motel they stopped at was relatively decent and even though his words about not being able to go back to living in and out of motels resonated in her ears, he entered without complaint and sat upon the bed.
She watched him for several moments after she placed the take-out they bought upon the table. His shoulders slumped and with his elbows resting on his knees it caused his hands to dangle limply.
He looked exhausted and despondent and she felt at her wits end.
Mumbling something about a shower, she was not surprised when he didn’t respond.
*
Standing under the hot spray, she wanted to ignore everything as it all threatened to come crashing down. She didn’t want to go on, she didn’t want to be strong, and she didn’t want to pretend.
She just wanted to disappear. She thought they deserved it.
There had been so many times when this was just what she had done, disappearing into oblivion instead of the sunset.
Her head bowed as she pictured what they could have, as her imagination ran wild. It was a nice vision what her mind dreamt, but she had always been too practical.
Suddenly she pounded her fist into the cream colored tiles and moaned in frustration.
Who was this person she’d become? This was not her. This was not her!
She put her cards on the table! She ironed flesh and jumped from windows and trains. She sewed her own flesh and survived torture!
She didn’t notice the fire flashing in her own eyes as she furiously turned off the water and threw her white tank top over her head. Dragging the dark blue boxer briefs up her wet legs, she muttered curses and barely got her clothes straight before she slammed the door open.
*
She slowed the instant he turned his head to look at her, his previously dull eyes suddenly sparking to life, his luscious mouth parting slightly. Then she smiled, for the first time in what felt like forever, because she could guess what she looked like.
Ignoring the cold drips from her drenched hair, she climbed onto the bed on her knees, moving up behind him to press her soaked t-shirt against his back and settled with her knees on either side of his hips.
“Sara,” he began but she wrapped her arms around him and gripping his chin, tilted his head back for a ferocious open-mouthed kiss.
He pushed her back, determined to say something, but she was just as determined and slipped her body around until she was kneeling in front of him, pressing herself into his obvious desire. Then she was pulling at his sweater and fumbling with the button on his jeans while contorting herself in order to help him remove her underwear.
She felt his fingers, god those fingers, pressing against her center but she pushed them away. She didn’t want or need foreplay. She felt as though they had been engaging in foreplay for four freaking years. Right now she just wanted him.
So she gripped his cock and afforded him two languid strokes before she slipped his long silkiness inside and she was not sure that she cared who was moaning louder because right now she just wanted to feel; his bruising fingers on her thighs, the rasp of his tongue and teeth on her face and neck, the heat of him within her wetness, that blinding grip of euphoria.
It was the best kind of oblivion she’s ever experienced.
*
They are lying naked on the bed, she on her back, he on his side, his head leaning on his left hand, the fingers of his right languidly stroking over her stomach.
“Takeout,” Michael continued their conversation, “for the same reason. Too many nights spent working late.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’re a workaholic,” she stated with a smile. “So what’s your favorite takeout? Let me guess, pizza?”
“Actually, I enjoy Thai and Mexican. And Italian. Linc’s the pizza man.”
“Hmmm,” she contemplated for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe we lived in the same neighborhood for so many years and still never managed to run into each other. It’s like we purposely alienated ourselves; no hobbies, no car, rarely going out. And in college…it’s like you said, we should have met at a bar, or a frat party, or the library. We have so many things in common. We could have at least managed to run into each other in the book store.”
She turned her gaze to look at him, finding those azure eyes locked on hers. “It’s like we were destined to meet at Fox River,” she whispered and closed her eyes against his piercing stare.
“Love consists in this,” his soft voice shattered the long silence, “that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”
Sara’s eyes opened with the feel of his fingers ghosting over her face. “I’m not even surprised that you know Rilke,” she harrumphed, but tempered her reply with a sweet kiss, knowing that it was his way to lighten the mood. It was the type of gesture she had missed.
*
“Speaking about food…” he turned from her and scooped up the bag from the table, “what did we get?”
She went to get up as well, but was surprised when he turned back and dropped the bag onto the bed between them, peering inside.
“Pie, yum, I love pie.”
“Did you just say yum?” she asked incredulously and at his raised eyebrow, gave him an indulgent smile.
He merely smirked and asked what flavors she’d bought.
Peering into the bag herself, she removed the pieces and replied, “There’s a peach and a pumpkin-”
“Peach!” he cried and practically grabbed it out of her hands.
“Hey!” she could not help but give a surprised laugh, incredulous at his behavior. “How do you know I didn’t want that one?”
Leaning over her, his eyes full of mischief, he muttered, “Suck it up Tancredi.”
Then she felt the warm press of his lips upon hers and the shock of the cold pie slopping onto her chest.
He swallowed her scream with his smiling mouth before picking up the plastic fork provided and sliding down the bed. Spearing a piece with the fork, he captured her eyes once more before slipping it into his mouth. “Mmmm, Tancredi peach pie, now that’s yum.”
She shivered at the heat in his eyes.
Playing her fingers over his cropped hair, feeling him suckling pieces of peach and juice from her breasts, Sara allowed Michael to indulge in his foreplay. She no longer needed to worry. She knew that she was where she belonged and she didn’t care if that meant that she was merely a silly school girl following the brooding boy who finally noticed her.
She just was, and that was good enough for her.
Author: To Be Revealed
Rating: R, NC-17
Category: Angst, Romance, PWP
Characters: Sara, Sara/Michael
Requested by: snowwhite22
Summary: Loving Michael was not something she could turn off, but lately she really understood her mother’s need to escape.
Warnings: Spoilers up to and including episode 4.16.
Author's Notes: The prompts requested were, Michael and Sara finding a reason to be together outside of their extreme situation (something they may have in common), indulging in food and the quote “Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.” For those who recognize the title - yes, it is from the Talking Heads song.
And She Was
“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”
~Rainer Maria Rilke
Sara tried really hard to be patient. For all that time, all those days, patience was her mantra. But she could feel herself unraveling and she hated the feeling. She’d felt it before, the feeling that all of the threads of her life were disentangling to the point where she could no longer distinguish herself.
She knew what would happen then; how she would disengage, break down, and for her this was never a pretty sight.
*
She knew the past few weeks had been hard, especially for him. She had told herself over and over that he was sick as she watched him pull away from her, immersing himself, obsessing, over their cause. She accepted the lack of physical contact, the unfulfilled promises and finally the absence of emotional support.
Because some things were more important than two people who wanted to be together.
*
She’d told herself, and more than once him, that she had been a doctor once. She had thought, that first time in the train bathroom, that the idea had been a painful one to admit, but he had assured her she would get that back. He had been so confident and sincere then, that even with her particular brand of cynicism she had almost believed him. Still, the sentiment had warmed her.
The last time she mentioned it he hadn’t even bothered to look at her.
*
She had never wanted to be like her mother.
Most importantly, she had never wanted to be with a man like her father.
Just before the meeting with Senator Dallow, she had put herself on the line and told him that he never had to worry about her leaving him; that nothing would ever come between them. And even though he gave her his trademark smirk he had answered with that comment about everything being okay. She knew then she had to walk away or lash out in anger.
Anger is not what she wanted to be feeling right before facing danger again. So she had thrown the pack of cards down and left the room, clenching her jaw and her fists.
Still, at the bus stop, when she realized he’d tried to give her and Fernando a way out of the mess, she also realized that what she had told him was true - she couldn’t leave him, no matter how mad he made her. Nothing would come between them.
Except maybe him.
*
Watching him during the operation was amongst the worst moments of her life.
She had already been frantic with worry, but when the heart monitor flat lined, she didn’t think she had ever felt such dread.
Not even when her mother had died - that had been a long time coming.
If she was honest, even when her father had been killed she had felt fear and sorrow, but not that soul stopping dread which made her own heart want to jump out of her chest in panic.
*
She hated the sound of panic in her voice as she told Lincoln her concerns, but his brush-off just fueled the anxiety she could barely manage.
She didn’t even think about the ramifications of stealing the jeep. All she could think of was getting to him in time to prevent what Lisa had been referring to, and which her mind just wanted to shy away from.
Ramming the other vehicle had been easy. The sight of him in the middle of the road, hands moving into the air as he faced off with them - it was no contest.
But the total silence which followed grated on her nerves and she knew the short reprieve was over as all her previous worries had come flooding back.
He said something about his mother being alive.
What did it take to make him see her?
Her mood oscillated drastically until her own neediness threatened to send her over the edge.
*
The motel they stopped at was relatively decent and even though his words about not being able to go back to living in and out of motels resonated in her ears, he entered without complaint and sat upon the bed.
She watched him for several moments after she placed the take-out they bought upon the table. His shoulders slumped and with his elbows resting on his knees it caused his hands to dangle limply.
He looked exhausted and despondent and she felt at her wits end.
Mumbling something about a shower, she was not surprised when he didn’t respond.
*
Standing under the hot spray, she wanted to ignore everything as it all threatened to come crashing down. She didn’t want to go on, she didn’t want to be strong, and she didn’t want to pretend.
She just wanted to disappear. She thought they deserved it.
There had been so many times when this was just what she had done, disappearing into oblivion instead of the sunset.
Her head bowed as she pictured what they could have, as her imagination ran wild. It was a nice vision what her mind dreamt, but she had always been too practical.
Suddenly she pounded her fist into the cream colored tiles and moaned in frustration.
Who was this person she’d become? This was not her. This was not her!
She put her cards on the table! She ironed flesh and jumped from windows and trains. She sewed her own flesh and survived torture!
She didn’t notice the fire flashing in her own eyes as she furiously turned off the water and threw her white tank top over her head. Dragging the dark blue boxer briefs up her wet legs, she muttered curses and barely got her clothes straight before she slammed the door open.
*
She slowed the instant he turned his head to look at her, his previously dull eyes suddenly sparking to life, his luscious mouth parting slightly. Then she smiled, for the first time in what felt like forever, because she could guess what she looked like.
Ignoring the cold drips from her drenched hair, she climbed onto the bed on her knees, moving up behind him to press her soaked t-shirt against his back and settled with her knees on either side of his hips.
“Sara,” he began but she wrapped her arms around him and gripping his chin, tilted his head back for a ferocious open-mouthed kiss.
He pushed her back, determined to say something, but she was just as determined and slipped her body around until she was kneeling in front of him, pressing herself into his obvious desire. Then she was pulling at his sweater and fumbling with the button on his jeans while contorting herself in order to help him remove her underwear.
She felt his fingers, god those fingers, pressing against her center but she pushed them away. She didn’t want or need foreplay. She felt as though they had been engaging in foreplay for four freaking years. Right now she just wanted him.
So she gripped his cock and afforded him two languid strokes before she slipped his long silkiness inside and she was not sure that she cared who was moaning louder because right now she just wanted to feel; his bruising fingers on her thighs, the rasp of his tongue and teeth on her face and neck, the heat of him within her wetness, that blinding grip of euphoria.
It was the best kind of oblivion she’s ever experienced.
*
They are lying naked on the bed, she on her back, he on his side, his head leaning on his left hand, the fingers of his right languidly stroking over her stomach.
“Takeout,” Michael continued their conversation, “for the same reason. Too many nights spent working late.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’re a workaholic,” she stated with a smile. “So what’s your favorite takeout? Let me guess, pizza?”
“Actually, I enjoy Thai and Mexican. And Italian. Linc’s the pizza man.”
“Hmmm,” she contemplated for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe we lived in the same neighborhood for so many years and still never managed to run into each other. It’s like we purposely alienated ourselves; no hobbies, no car, rarely going out. And in college…it’s like you said, we should have met at a bar, or a frat party, or the library. We have so many things in common. We could have at least managed to run into each other in the book store.”
She turned her gaze to look at him, finding those azure eyes locked on hers. “It’s like we were destined to meet at Fox River,” she whispered and closed her eyes against his piercing stare.
“Love consists in this,” his soft voice shattered the long silence, “that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”
Sara’s eyes opened with the feel of his fingers ghosting over her face. “I’m not even surprised that you know Rilke,” she harrumphed, but tempered her reply with a sweet kiss, knowing that it was his way to lighten the mood. It was the type of gesture she had missed.
*
“Speaking about food…” he turned from her and scooped up the bag from the table, “what did we get?”
She went to get up as well, but was surprised when he turned back and dropped the bag onto the bed between them, peering inside.
“Pie, yum, I love pie.”
“Did you just say yum?” she asked incredulously and at his raised eyebrow, gave him an indulgent smile.
He merely smirked and asked what flavors she’d bought.
Peering into the bag herself, she removed the pieces and replied, “There’s a peach and a pumpkin-”
“Peach!” he cried and practically grabbed it out of her hands.
“Hey!” she could not help but give a surprised laugh, incredulous at his behavior. “How do you know I didn’t want that one?”
Leaning over her, his eyes full of mischief, he muttered, “Suck it up Tancredi.”
Then she felt the warm press of his lips upon hers and the shock of the cold pie slopping onto her chest.
He swallowed her scream with his smiling mouth before picking up the plastic fork provided and sliding down the bed. Spearing a piece with the fork, he captured her eyes once more before slipping it into his mouth. “Mmmm, Tancredi peach pie, now that’s yum.”
She shivered at the heat in his eyes.
Playing her fingers over his cropped hair, feeling him suckling pieces of peach and juice from her breasts, Sara allowed Michael to indulge in his foreplay. She no longer needed to worry. She knew that she was where she belonged and she didn’t care if that meant that she was merely a silly school girl following the brooding boy who finally noticed her.
She just was, and that was good enough for her.