She hasn't prayed in years. Not since her mother's death.
She didn't even whisper a single pray during the riots when she was in danger of rape and death.
She didn't even pray when she saw her father hanging from his office. It was already done, nothing asking god for a favor could change.
Neither did she pray while she ran from the FBI and every other government organization and to Michael. Just like how she never muttered a plea to god when Michael was in Sona.
She knew he could take care of himself, he didn't need any extra help-only her support.
But here, right then, she finds herself whispering franticly to god.
Everything she can remember from her Sunday school days, she's whispering.
She only stops when he opens his eyes and turns to her.
"Oh thank you god!" Sara gasped, she lifted Michael hand and pressed it to her cheek.
Michael rolled his head and smiled at her, "Sara? Sweetheart, are you alright?"
Sara gave a nervous relieved laugh, "I'm fine, honey. What about you? You're the one that had the heart attack."
The old local doctor stepped forward before Michael could respond. "He's going to be fine. Just no more heavy lifting and getting up on the roof with fifty pounds on your back. Not to good for the heart."
Michael turned to the doctor and gave a nod.
Sara rubbed Michael's arm, "Don't worry Doctor. He's not going anywhere anymore. Nothing further then the living room. I promise."
The doctor laughed. "Well Mr. Scofield, consider yourselves lucky, not many wives have such a pretty jailer!"
Sara's hand flinched but Michael did nothing more then smile, "I am, thank you doctor."
Michael watched the old man give Sara a smile then leave the tiny room.
Sara turned Michael's hand so she could press a kiss into the palm. "You scared me."
Michael lifted himself on to his elbows and kissed Sara's forehead. "I'm sorry."
"That's the last time you say something to dangerous for Frank and LJ." Sara scolded gently. "Our son's almost twenty and LJ...god that kid has three kids of his own. I think he can help put the shinges on our roof."
Michael rolled his eyes and smirked up at her, "I'm sorry darling, I promise to ask for help when I do it again."
Sara tightened her hands on his. "I meant what I said Michael. You're almost sixty years old, I'm not letting you go beyond the living room."
Michael sighed and dropped back to the bed, "Sara,"
"Don't 'Sara' me." his wife snapped, "You almost died!"
"I didn't almost die!" Michael said lightly, "It was just a heart attack."
Sara tore her hands off his, and waved them in the air in annoyance. "'Just' a heart attack."
Sara stood and began pacing, after a long moment she turned, "Michael, I was so worried about you. I can't deal if you died."
Michael watched her from the bed, "I promise I won't die, Sara. It was an accident."
Sara stopped in front of his bed, "We're getting older, we have to be more careful. Epically you."
Michael sighed, "Listen, Sara. I'm sorry. Can you please just forgive me and take me home."
Sara glared at him, "You're unbelievable! You're never going to listen!"
"I'm never going to live this down." Michael muttered under his breath.
"Well at lest you get a live." Sara threw back.
Michael smiled, "Sara, come here," he lifted an arm and reached for her.
Sara sighed then moved around the bed and clutched his hand. "I'm just scared."
Michael tugged her toward him, wrapping another arm around her as she fell against him. "I know, I heard you praying...it's what woke me up."
Sara's eyes widened as she snuggled against his body. "I didn't realize I was speaking out loud. Dr. Miller must have thought I was insane."
"It was sweet...I know you aren't fond of it so I want you to know I appreciate it." Michael muttered into the top of her head. Breathing in her scent. "And I promise I won't go beyond the living room as long as you stay with me."
Sara closed her eyes, feeling happiness for the first time in hours, "You're unbelievable! But-"she sighed, "I love you anyways."
Right before she fell asleep against her husband's body Sara contemplated the benefits of praying.
