She's slugging down a bottle of water when he steps into her infirmary.

He can see sweat trickling down her exposed skin, her chest is raising and falling, and just like that Michael's hard.

He swallows then runs a hand over his head, the guard unchains him then leaves, not even sparing the doctor a glance.

She finishes with a deep gasp, and sighs. "Michael, how are you?"

He smiles, "Good," he sits on the table and nods toward the water bottle. "Thirsty much?"

Sara smirked, "My car died three miles from here." She rubbed her forehead, "I haven't ran that much since high school."

Michael laughed, "Couldn't call someone to get you?"

Sara stood and took a step toward him, "What? And have to listen to them lecturing me on how women don't know how to take care of a car? I'd rather run the three miles."

Michael frowned slightly, "You know you didn't need to schedule me this early in the morning. It's not like I'm going anywhere, I can wait around for a few hours."

Sara sat on the stool and began preparing Michael's shot. "I know. But I've got 40 other men to look over today and I want to make sure you're done first."

Michael smirked, tilted his head away so she couldn't see it. "Well thanks,"

She made some sound of knowledgement. Michael lifted his head and stared at her half empty water bottle. The lid was off and he could see the light glaze of saliva she'd left, he stared at the bottle realizes that he'd never wanted anything so much in his life.

Sara saw his stare and winched, she placed the needle down and stood. She lifted the water bottle from her desk then handled it to him.

Michael blinked in surprise, "What?"

"Drink," Sara motioned it to him, "I know the water in those cells is terrible." She looked down at the water bottle, "Michael I can see how much you want this, just finish it off for me. It'll make me feel better for guzzling it in front of you."

He wanted it, he wanted her…and if that damn water bottle was as close as he was going to get….He took the bottle from her hands. "Thanks,"

She moved back to the stool. Michael stared discreetly at the bottle in his hand. His eyes fixed on the rim.

He lifted the bottle to his mouth and tasted strawberries.

He didn't need to look up to know that fruity taste came from the lip gloss that still coated her lips, it just reminded him of another thirst that he could never quench.

Cool, clean water flowed into his mouth and Michael fought against moaning. It was the best thing he'd had in months.

The next two mouth fills were nearly as good, though the taste of her was fading. Michael was grateful he'd already committed the taste to memory. He knew he'd always drawn on it to remember beauty, to remember the time he loved and let go.

He tore the bottle from his lips, swirling his tongue over the rim, before he set it down and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, you have no idea how wonderful that was."

Sara turned, the needle ready in hand, completely obvious to what her patient had just experienced. Instead she just smiled back, "I'm glad,"

Michael paid little attention to the rest of his check up. His mind racing, analyzing, that another thirst. So deep and intense, so powerful and controlling, he knew it'd take more then a simple taste to satisfy.

Michael cursed himself, tried to think of the master plan, tired to remind himself why he was really there, why never indulging that thirst was what was best.

But the only thing he could think was the strawberry taste that still clung to his tongue. And he had a strange feeling it always would.