Lost
By: Jacey
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: No actual pairing, but murmers of Michael/Sara
Rating: PG-13 – mentions of drug/alcohol abuse.
Summary: Written from Sara's point of view….. in Season 3.
She's never been the sort of person who prayed. Oh, she went to church as a child – her mother was Catholic, and pressed religion and faith upon her until she became too caught up in her own little world of dazed inebriated confusion. Mass trailed off after that, from weekly to fortnightly… to monthly, to once a year at Christmas. Until it felt like it'd never really been in her life at all.
She grew up wearing a silver cross around her neck, with the habit of rubbing it between two fingers when she wanted something, or when her mother was really really drunk, and please Daddy, just make her stop yelling at me like that.
Becoming a drug addict doesn't really push one toward that sort of lifestyle either. Not when the only time you actually go into a church is when you're so wasted, so out of your mind with bliss that you stumble into the first warm place that you come across, and fall unconscious at the priest's feet. Waking up with two nun's looking down at you – literally and probably metaphorically too – is a pretty memorable experience, no matter how much you drink afterwards to wipe the slate blank again.
So despite her history with religion, and her feelings about god, she finds herself muttering pleas of 'oh my god' and 'please please please' both out loud and inside her head. Save him. Save her. She's not sure which is more important. Him him him.
Just save him, and it'll all be okay. She'll be okay if he's okay. Just please let him be okay.
She sits, tied to a chair with her arms behind her back, yearning for a long lost silver cross and two fingers that she can rub it between.