Sara felt sick. Her mouth fell open with shock and her shaking hand clamped over it to muffle her cry. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn't know why. Her entire body rushed with mixed emotions, some good, and some bad. How would she tell Michael? They certainly hadn't planned for this. Sara gulped an unwelcome lump down her throat and felt dizzy, her hand darting to the white porcelain sink beside her for support.
Sara held the plastic stick in her hand, an unmistakeable blue cross to one side of the window. She picked up the thin paper instructions and scanned them once more. She even read them aloud to make sure she had done it correctly. The instructions rustled in her hands as she twisted them back and fourth, flipping the page over to read the other side.
"In some circumstances, false positives can occur," she read aloud with a hint of hope in her breaking voice. She sighed but it was not relief. There could still be a chance she was pregnant. She was a doctor and the plain truth was the chances of a false positive were slim. They happened but not very often and under the circumstances, Sara figured hers was neither false nor intended.
Her hands sunk to her lap and she rubbed her legs nervously, tapping her fingertips against the black material of her pants. The bathroom of their apartment was heated and the bright lighting bounced off the white tiles and chrome taps like rays of sunlight, but she still felt cold. Sara's entire body tingled with adrenaline, a sudden rush of it surging from her brain as she contemplated the future.
The cooking timer in the kitchen buzzed to life and its tiny hammer hit the bell inside furiously alerting her to the meal she had cooking of the hob. Sara stuffed the pregnancy test back into its box and tossed it into the waste bin quickly followed by several sheets of toilet paper to hide it. She pulled the bathroom door, which opened silently, floating across a tiled floor it never touched.
Sara rushed to the kitchen where her pasta was boiling over the ceramic top leaving crusty white froth to bake itself onto the surface. Grabbing a towel she wrenched it from the top and slammed the heavy pot onto the side where it immediately turned silent and proceeded to steam from the tiny hole in the glass lid. Sara opened it, a rush of steam invading the air and condensing almost immediately into tiny hot droplets. Sara peered into the silver pan and we met with a burning smell. On further inspection with a fork she discovered the water had all but completely boiled away and the pasta had sealed itself to the base of the saucepan.
"Dammit!" Sara exclaimed angrily, throwing the towel onto the counter with a wet thud. She leant back against the counter and buried her face in her hands trying to calm herself. Today was too much to cope with all at once and just when she thought the day couldn't get any worse, she heard Michael's key turn in the lock. Her head snapped up and she dropped her arms to cross in front of her chest.
Michael stepped into the apartment he had previously occupied by himself before his and Lincoln's exoneration meant he could be with Sara. It was still very much his apartment, bare and minimal in places where it lacked a woman's homely touch. The floor was laminate wood but it was a dark stain and slightly spongy underfoot. Most of the furniture matched the flooring and the walls were a mixture of chocolate brown and cream, painted in correspondence to how the light hit them from the massive balcony window.
Michael let the door close behind him and yanked his jacket off his shoulders. His long blue sleeves had been unevenly rolled up to his elbows and his marbled skin was clearly visible. He flashed Sara a smile that was never forced, no matter how tired he was. She returned it weakly as he stepped from the wooden floor to the tiled one, hung his jacket across the back of one the dining chairs and reached her for a kiss.
"Hey," he greeted her happily placing a warm hand to her arm and planting a soft kiss to her mouth. Sara kissed him back but her arms remained crossed and Michael looked at her with a questioning face. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed slightly until he noticed the charred remains of pasta next to her on the counter. "Oh…" he said with a roll of his eyes suddenly understanding her frustrated glare.
"We'll have to order in," she said with a sigh, a thousand thoughts of the money saving they would have to do crossing her mind.
"That's ok," Michael stepped closer to her so their bodies were millimetres apart and rested his hands on either side of her against the mottled grey counter top. Sara snorted sarcastically to the side and unfolded her arms to lightly scratch the back of her neck. Michael dipped his head slightly to catch her gaze that she had so far tried to hide from him. He rested a loving hand to her hip and searched her eyes for her reasoning.
"It's not ok," she said pushing out of his embrace and storming to the other side of the kitchen. Michael stepped aside and was taken back by her sudden anger. Sara slammed her fists into the opposite counter and fought back the burning tears as they threatened to fall. Michael stared at her back, her shoulders hunched and her frame leant over the sideboard before returning to glance at the cooling pasta.
"It's just pasta Sara," he offered gesturing to the pasta on the sideboard.
"It's not just the pasta," Sara snapped whirling around to face him, her hand cutting the air with every word. "It's…" she paused, her hand clenching into a fist when she changed her mind and decided against the words she was going to say. Michael leant his back to the cold counter top and stared at her open mouthed. Her sudden outburst shook him and it was very uncharacteristic of her.
"Are you ok?" he enquired softly while she pushed a shaking hand across her brow and paced in front of him. Her feet barely lifted from the floor and she shuffled her slippers across the tiles, a rough brushing sound filling the air on ever step. She faltered on an answer as thoughts ravaged her mind. "Sara?" Michael asked, his voice quaky and frightened.
"No," she snapped without looking at him and pushing her hair from her hands with both her hands. "I'm not ok," she said quieter.
"Well tell me what's wrong," he began taking a step towards her. He knew if he reached out and just took her in his arms that she would close up and keep the darkness that hurt her so inside. Michael wanted to know what was wrong so he could fix. So they could fix it. "We can work it…" he offered but she cut him off with two words that both elated his soul and scared him to death at the same time.
"I'm pregnant," she blurted with closed eyes and a silent fell between them. Michael's face twisted in confusion and for a moment he held his breath in shock. He lifted a hand to his collar where he tugged at the tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck while he popped his top button open. Although it wasn't, he imagined his collar was choking him and his actions would help his sudden breathing difficulties.
"How? I mean, I know how," he stammered with a frown to himself at the idiocy of the question. Of course he knew how. Sara and Michael had successfully dodged many bullets whilst in the throws of passionate sex that included the absence of their latex friends. Neither was sated with just foreplay when their supplies had dwindled and carelessly, they had ignored all the odds. Michael blinked in disbelief and run a wobbly hand over his shaven scalp.
"I just found out today," Sara told him, her voice softer but full of fear. "I've missed two periods," she confessed. Michael was listening but he wasn't at the same time and his face was buried in his hands. His mind raced so quickly he couldn't catch up to reality. A baby was a big step in a relationship, a step that neither of them had planned for.
"Why did you wait so long?" he asked, his voice muffled by his hands spread across his features. He pulled them down and sucked in a large breath of air. His question was genuine and Sara saw no anger, hurt or remorse in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he actually wanted this baby.
"I was scared," she said on a breaking voice that was the dam holding back her tears. Her throat burned as they trickled down her cheeks and a feeling of relief washed over her. "I was scared that if I was you'd leave me," she choked whilst desperately trying to dry her face when more tears fell freely.
Michael looked at her shocked. She had never revealed any such fears to him before and for a second he felt shut out and angry. He took two quick steps towards her and pulled her to him, locking his almighty arms around her trembling figure as she cried. He soothed her with his gentle voice and a strong hand down her back. She wasn't ready for this and he could see that. "I'd never leave you," he whispered into her ear with a stern tone. "Ever," he added desperately, squeezing her to him even tighter before she pulled away.
Michael brushed a soft thumb over her damp cheeks and wiped away her tears with a smile. Sara let out a nervous laugh at her behaviour. Of course Michael would never leave her over something as trivial as a new life. He was Michael, sacrificing everything he had ever held dear to keep the ones he loved happy and safe from harm. "I'm still scared," she coughed on a laugh as she pulled her sleeve down her arm and wiped at her tears in her own way.
Michael pulled her to him again, her arms pressed firmly against his thin blue shirt that had already been drenched in her tears. "Me too," he confessed on a breath. "But we'll be ok," he promised planting a kiss to her soft, auburn hair.