Filling in the Blanks (S4 Epi1)

Nightlife · Posted: Sun Sep 07, 2008 5:18 pm Post subject: Filling in the Blanks (S4 Epi1)

Author's Chapter Notes:
It really bothered me that the writers didn't make it as clear as they could have about whether Sara and Michael do or don't. So, because I'm obsessed with these two characters and perhaps in need of psychological help, I decided that I needed to fill in the blanks. Because I'm a lot like Michael in this fic, it's going to eat away at me until I know for sure.

Diclaimer: Prison Break is not of my own creation nor are the characters of Michael and Sara. Direct quotes were used from episode 401 and I do not take any credit for those. Warning: As if you haven't figured it out already, this fic contains poilers for 401.

Distractedly, he flips through his father’s file, his mind somewhere else. His thoughts with the woman down the hall. Twenty minutes ago, he had listened intently to Sara recount the events that led up to her miraculous reappearance in his life. From her separation from L.J after her little stunt and how she didn’t know if he was okay. To how Gretchen had all but convinced her that they were dead and that no body was coming for her. And finally, how one of the guards helped her to escape and that she was too scared to even try to contact anyone but then called Bruce.

He had listened to every word that she said. But it’s the words that she didn’t say, the details she purposefully left out that slowly eat away at him now as his mind furiously works to fill in the blanks.

He isn’t naive. He saw it in her eyes, the distant and almost hollow look, like she was seeing it all happen right in front of her all over again. And the way her hand gripped his as she spoke, almost as if it was with great effort that she was summoning the strength to simply hold it together. Not fooled for one second by her act, he knows that whatever happened to her was far worse than she was letting on. He knows that whatever happened to her was nothing short of a nightmare, nothing short of hell.

He hasn’t been able to think of much else since she disappeared into her room, saying that she was feeling tired and to call her when the food arrived. Finally, he just pushes the file away in frustration, not able to focus.

Lincoln to look up from across the table. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” His eyes shifting to the closed door at the end of the hall.

Following his gaze. “She’s okay. Michael, she’s safe now.”

His brother’s reassurance is an empty one for him. “I guess. If you can call this safe.” He mutters darkly.

When the Chinese food arrives, Sara is still in her room. He wonders if she’s sleeping or if she’s up. Lincoln is already digging through the cartons of food, not bothering to wait. He contemplates going to get Sara like she had asked them to and then with some more thought, he reaches for one of the paper bags. He catches his brother’s knowing look as he gathers a carton of Chinese and a couple of chopsticks before heading down the hall.

He knocks on the door quietly, hoping that he doesn’t wake her if she is sleeping. But he hears her soft response through the door and he enters. She’s already in bed with the covers pulled over her legs, her hair pulled up into a knot. He can’t help but smile at the sight of her. Beautiful.

He can tell that she’s comfortable here in this room. He makes note of all the small personal things she’s put around to make it her own, like the candles and the small stereo atop the headboard and the paperback book on the night stand. It’s her sanctuary. Her safe place. And more than anything, he wants her to be able to feel safe again.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He holds up the takeout container.

She beckons him in and he closes the door behind him. She makes room for him on the bed, tucking her legs into a cross legged position. He sheds his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair before offering up the Chinese he’d pilfered. He sits for a moment, just watching the expression on her face as she begins to open the container. Her smile at that very moment, it gets to him. He thought he’d never see that smile again, or hear her voice, or even be sitting here watching her do something as simple as eat. For so long, he thought she was dead.

“I thought I would never see you again.” His voice somber, quiet, resolute.

Her hands stop what they’re doing and she looks up, a look that he is certain is mirrored in his own eyes. And suddenly, he is overcome with the desperate urge to kiss her. To erase the bitter memories of those weeks in which he believed she was dead. To ease the ache and pain and despair that has consumed him for so long. To fill the emptiness inside him with something more than just guilt and regret.

He leans in and when their lips meet all the urgency seems to just dissolve and the kiss is surprisingly slow and unhurried. It’s exactly how he remembers, he’d been so afraid that was he beginning to forget. And then just like that, the kiss grows intense and less controlled. He presses his mouth to hers hard and hears her sharp intake of breath, it only serves to spur him on. He’s drawn to her like he’s never been drawn to anyone else before. The lightening quick taste of her mouth is all it takes and he’s addicted, unable to get enough.

Her lips are warm and soft as they move against his, yielding under the gentle pressure of his. His nose brushing against hers as he tilts his head and her mouth is eagerly opening beneath his. The moment her tongue touches his lip, his insides take a nosedive. Whether her little slip was intentional or accidental, he can’t be sure. And then her arms are winding around his neck and she’s pulling him closer, leaving no doubt in his mind.

His body responds quickly, instantaneously to her wordless demand. A rush of desire and hunger and heat unfurling low in his gut. He kisses her with a single minded determination that has her gasping against his mouth and his own hands gripping fistfuls of the blanket that is draped across her lap. He presses his mouth to hers deeply once, twice before he forces himself to pull away because he doesn’t think he will be able to stop if they continue down this path. And they should stop.

He catches the look in her eyes that suggests otherwise and before he decides to forget about all his good intentions, he speaks. “I have something for you.” He whispers in a low voice, a smile teasing his lips. He reaches for his jacket to retrieve the intricately folded colored paper he’s kept with him all this time.

She laughs, sounding almost giddy. “Okay.”

When he presents her with the rose, her smile grows and he finds that it’s contagious and he’s smiling with her. “You left this behind.”

She takes it from him. “Is that what this is about.” Putting aside the untouched carton of food, she slides down against the pillows into a more comfortable position. “Getting my rose back.” Looking down at it thoughtfully, fingering the edges of the paper.

He shifts, sitting with his back against the headboard. He feels her press against his side, her head resting against his shoulder, and he isn’t prepared for the rush of warmth that washes over him the instant that she does this.

“Yeah, I guess I’m done now. I can retire.” He jokes, making her laugh again as his fingers graze her bent knee beneath the blanket.

The air around them shifts and he feels her mood change, light and teasing becoming something more serious and heavy. And he somehow knows what she’s going to ask.

“How much time are you looking at?” She sounds hesitant and fearful.

He takes a breath. “They’re saying fifteen years. I have to find out for sure.” He adds. Perhaps there is still hope.

Her hand reaches for his, holding it between both of hers. “I heard Lincoln say something about a deal.”

He thinks back to what Agent Self had offered them just before Bruce bailed them out. “No jail time. In exchange for taking down The Company.” Just saying it, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

She looks at him. “How?”

Staring ahead blankly. That is the million dollar question. “Exactly.” It’s an impossible feat. One that would surely get him killed.

She presses her face into the crook of his neck again and he lets the feeling seep through him, into his flesh and into his bones. Her closeness. Her scent. Her warmth. Her mere presence. That’s all that matters to him right now. Not The Company or the jail time or the uncertainty of tomorrow. Just her. It’s all he needs.

“I love you.” He whispers, his eyes shifting to hers as she pulls back to see his face. “That’s all I know right now.” His voice is soft and low.

Their lips meet, exchanging tender kisses as her hand finds his cheek. He pulls away just slightly, looking into her eyes, needing to know if this is what she wants too. That she needs this just as much as he does. He watches her gaze drift back down to his lips and that’s the only sign he requires. This time when their lips meet, he has no intention of pulling back.

They kiss for a long time, somehow sliding down and ending up on their sides. The blanket once covering Sara, now somewhere at their feet. Her one long bare leg is flung over his hip and his hand is curled around the nape of her neck. It’s only when he feels her hand slipping beneath his shirt that he becomes aware that they are still fully clothed, except for Sara wearing her sleeping shorts.

Sitting up, he reaches for his shirt, pulling it up and off in one smooth motion. He watches as she too sits up, her hand reaching out and sliding down his chest. There is a look of quiet fascination on her face as she traces the mosaic of indigo covering his skin. It’s a look he recognizes. A look she’d tried to hide in vain whenever they were alone in the infirmary back in Fox River. And back then, it was that simple look that had him fighting the urge to kiss her. Smiling, he dips his head to press his mouth to her neck, having no reason to fight it anymore.

His hands reach for her shirt and it’s only when his hands slip beneath the fabric that he notices her body tense, just slightly. But when she pulls his mouth to hers and kisses him, desperate and deep, he continues. His fingers trail up along her ribs, the material of her shirt gathering around his wrists as he does. He marvels at how soft and smooth her skin is and noting that she has lost weight. Then his hands slide around to her back and suddenly, she’s pushing him away and scrambling out of his arms.

It happens so fast that it takes him a second to process what exactly just happened. She’s fixing her shirt with trembling hands, her hair falling over her face. He can’t see, but he knows that she’s crying.

“Sara...” He begins to reach a hand out to touch her and then pulls it back, thinking better of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whispers, barely audible.

Before he can even say anything, she’s standing and walking to the other side of the room. His eyes follow her as she sits down in the chair by the window with her back to him, using his discarded jacket to cover her bare legs.

He simply watches her, unsure of what to do or if there was anything he could do. He closes his eyes, cursing himself for not noticing earlier, for not thinking. When he can’t take the silence anymore, he grabs his shirt, pulling it on again before standing and approaching her. He walks with slow careful steps, not wanting to startle her. But doing just that when he places his hands on her shoulders. He feels her practically jump out of her skin.

Instantly regretful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He is sorry. He’s sorry for earlier. He’s sorry that he wasn’t there when she needed him. He’s sorry that he failed to find her in time. He’s sorry for everything.

She places her hands atop his, keeping them on her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” She mutters, her lips brushing the back of his hand.

Looking down at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

When she doesn’t say anything, he begins to think that he’s got his answer. But instead she shifts forward and wordlessly pulls her shirt up to expose her bare back to him. For the first time, he sees a glimpse of the hell she went through and he can’t breathe, feeling as though the air is literally ripped from his lungs. His worst fears come to life, that’s what this is.

Tentatively, his fingers trace over the myriad of scars that now mar her once flawless skin. He is careful though he is certain that what made her pull away from him earlier had nothing to do with residual pain or discomfort and everything to do with the lasting psychological effects of something like this. He knows what it’s like to not be able to escape the memories and images of something so horrific that you can’t forget and he never wanted that for her. His eyes fill with tears, the guilt and the anger overwhelm him and he wants nothing more than to have pulled that trigger when he had the chance.

And then she’s reaching for him, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around her, offering him comfort when it should be the other way around.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not.” She whispers.

All he can think is how can it not be? He brought her into this mess, after all.

Swallowing with difficulty, he helps her fix her shirt. “Tell me what happened?” His voice is hard, full of anger that he fails to hide.

She clutches onto his arm and he holds her tighter. “It’s just The Company. It’s just what they do.” She sounds so small just then. “And it wasn’t just me. My God, it was you and L.J and Lincoln. And they won’t stop.” Her fingers wrapping around his hand convulsively, her blunt nails biting into his skin. “And I don’t know how to deal with that.” She sounds so broken, so defeated, so scared.

His heart breaks into a thousand pieces, it aches with the knowledge that there isn’t a damn thing he can do for her. Except the one thing, he can make sure that it never happens again, that they never get the chance. He can make sure that they pay for what they did to her.

She’s trembling as she presses her face into his arm. “Come here.” He whispers, pulling her up. “Come here.” He wraps his arms around her tight.

In the next second, the piercing sound of shattering glass fills the air around them. Reacting out of instinct alone, he pushes her to the ground, covering her with his body before he can even process that they were shot at. There is little time to think and Lincoln is bursting into the room in the next moment.

“Let’s go!” He barks.

Sara is scrambling ahead of him, keeping low below the window and then they are running down the hall and out the back door. They run along the house and duck into the shed. He leans against the wall, his heart pounding and the sound of Sara’s harsh breathing draws his attention to her.

“Are you okay?” He looks over at her concerned.

She nods. “I can’t believe they found us so fast.” Looking at him, panic and desperation etched across her face. “Should I call- should I call Bruce and get some place safe?”

He presses his fingers to his eyes, his head suddenly throbbing with pain. “No place is safe.”

He now realizes that Sara is right. They won’t stop. They never will. He sees the absolute look of fear on her face and he knows what they have to do. He knows it’s the only way. And he knows that they have to do it now. Because they’re not going to stop unless they stop them.

The End

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