Title: Point of View
Characters: Sara Tancredi, mentions of Michael Scofield
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Word count: approx. 1200 words
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: (WARNING!) 4.18
Summary: Sara's POV in the end of 4.18. Fear or not, danger or not, bad timing or not, she has the ancient right to cherish this moment as much as any other woman in this world, and she is prepared to use it up to the very last drop.
Point of View
She doesn't believe it. In fact, she is shell-shocked, although the idea's been on the front of her mind for the past few days. She cannot yet decide if she would call herself – themselves, her mind corrects her – lucky or misfortunate.
Michael's a man she's been intimate with less times than the number of fingers on a single hand. And yet, deep down she already knows he is the only man she could imagine herself to have a child with.
She desperately clutches the thin piece of plastic, the simple cross signifying the start of a new life. And she cannot help but let out a tearful laugh, sobbing her way to the mirror to look at herself.
She may be imagining it, but she looks different. It may be the smile, it may be the tears, it may be the slightly erratic look of utter bewilderment on her face, but she knows it's something else. Even to her own eyes, it can't stay hidden, she is literally glowing - radiating that special kind of light only a budding mother possesses.
Fear or not, danger or not, bad timing or not, she has the ancient right to cherish this moment as much as any other woman in this world, and she is prepared to use it up to the very last drop.
She doesn't understand how she can be this happy when everything in her life is currently being so utterly wrong and breaking apart, the irony of this not hidden to her. It's all she's been craving for so long, but it had to happen in the worst possible moment ever.
Despite all this, she cannot do otherwise but thank heavens for this precious gift of life during a mayhem of death, enveloping them every single day. A distinct feeling of hope grips her heart, a feeling she's almost forgotten by now. It has abandoned her weeks ago and now it returns full force, and she welcomes and embraces it with all her might and will.
She thinks of Deb and the slight trace of sadness and jealousy she felt upon looking at her family photos. Despite being genuinely happy for her friend, she secretly knew this was something she wanted for her life too, but never got the chance to have.
She thinks of Michael and the way he offered himself this morning to her, opened his mind's desire to her and taking a huge leap of faith by proposing a vision of a life they could one day have, if she wished to. His eyes were so heart-whole and longing, giving her a look of hope he haven't given her it weeks. Sara contemplates if it was coincidence or providence then. Knowing the fickle finger of faith only too well, she knows it must have been faith. For once, the kind hand of fortune gently dropped on her head too, sending her a message she didn't dare to acknowledge nor accept then just yet.
But now she does, and she cannot actually believe the easiness with which she accepts such life-changing news, without a single trace of doubt or hesitancy.
Here, in this bathroom - her newfound sanctuary of good spirits and news, and in Deb's apartment filled with happy family photos and warmth only a home can give, with Michael sitting on the couch just a few steps away waiting for her - healthy and sound - Sara allows herself the luxury to let the feeling of sheer joy and unlimited happiness sink in.
These few minutes belong to her own emotions and thoughts of the new life growing inside of her and she quickly and resolutely forbids herself to think about the other side of the coin. Of the slim chances they have to survive this whole mess - sane and unscathed, or the fright she feels every time she thinks of the possibility she might never live the day to see her abdomen swell, feel her baby kick. She bans the excruciating dilemma and remorse of having to put on line her own child's life in order to bring down the people who caused them all so much pain.
Nor does she think of the time and place and way she is going to tell Michael, for she knows she has to carry this bittersweet knowledge all by herself for now. Knowing she cannot tell him just yet, she is very well aware of the fact he has already tried to send her away once in order to keep her safe. Now, his package of concern - however unexpected and wonderful – doubled in weight, and she knows she can't bring herself to induce such woe of quandary upon him. She is sure of this nearly as much as she is sure she won't be able to keep the secret to herself for too long either.
At least not in her current state, with her face still streamed with tears of joyous disbelief and that uncharacteristic smile spread throughout her face. Patting her breast pocket carefully, she lets her fingers rest on the leather, the faint feel of the outlines of the evidence to her secret sending another wave of giddy headiness through her head and chest.
She knows this precious moment will come to a quick end as soon as her feet leave this room, her mind crashing back to reality the moment her eyes fall upon Michael's pained figure, scrolling through his allegedly dead mother's emails.
No, this is not the time or place to tell him.
Painfully aware of how they can run out of luck by the speed of light, Sara knows she might be risking the only chance to tell him she wants it too, wants that life with the sand and sun and cheesy matching outfits within their own family.
She is risking that this time tomorrow, she may be lying face down and shot dead by a nameless agent in some stinking ally, her secret dying with her.
Yet tomorrow seems so far away right now. She won't let the gruesome circumstances she's found herself in spoil the moment for her. She is a woman, a lover, a budding mother, carrying the sweetness of her secret and the fruit of their love just underneath her heart.
She hides the evidence of her secret temporarily into the pocket of her leather jacket, checking twice if it's closed properly before preparing herself for her return to the real world once again.
She never thought to be as irresponsible as this, irresponsible enough to get 'knocked-up' so early in a relationship that might at any time crumble under the heavy pressure of outsides factors none of the two of them has the power to stop or change.
But today, it doesn't matter who she once believed to be or not. It's done and she doesn't regret it for a second.
And despite all her remaining rational mind screaming at her to wake up and sober, her heart is already starting to sing a lullaby.
*~***~*