"I thought you might need these," Sara's low voice followed by the sound of the small pills against the wood of the table when she set them down was loud, crashing through Michael's head.

This was possibly the worst hangover he had ever experienced. "Thanks," his own voice sent a jolt of pain behind his eyes and he winced, his stomach lurching. Not good.

He squinted up at her, thankful that Sara had dressed in earth tones today, no bright pink Strawberry shortcake pajamas to rock his retinas. Attempting to sit up, he braced himself for the expected nausea, but it didn't come.

"There's coffee if you want it. I have to go, or I'll be late for work."

Leaning back, he eyed the small pills before bringing his bleary eyes to her face. She looked tired and he wondered how much of a role he played in her obvious lack of sleep. He must have, what called her? Try as he might, Michael couldn't remember how he had gotten to her apartment.

"Sara, I…" He clenched his jaw against the pain in his head and reached for the pills and tall glass of water. Tipping his head back carefully, Michael washed the pills down and then met her inquisitive eyes. He wanted to apologize for leaving, for overreacting to her reaction to last night's confession, but somehow the words wouldn't come.

Telling himself it was a conversation best left for a time when his head wasn't threatening to explode, "Did I call you last night? To come get me, I mean?"

He saw her eyebrows rise a little as if in surprise, but then her quiet voice piped out. "No, you knocked on the door around 2am. I'm not sure how you got home, I mean here." She was wringing her hands, her eyes worried now. "I hope you didn't drive Michael. Drinking and driving…"

"I didn't, I wouldn't have, Sara." He cut her off reassuringly. He wouldn't have, would he? Michael reached again for a slice of memory that was just out of his grasp, but all he could remember was…Ben. Lincoln's friend had bought him a drink, no drinks, several drinks in fact. But then what?

Pulling himself up, Michael moved to the window to chance a look out at the street. A jolt of pain hit him at the brightness of the day, but he forced his eyes to remain open, to focus passed the bright grass that tore through his head and on to the curb. His normal parking spot was filled with a late model green van, not telling him much.

But he wouldn't have driven, he was sure of it. Even though alcohol had not played a role in the car accident that ruined Angela's life, their lives, Michael had become completely intolerant of anyone climbing behind the wheel while even slightly inebriated.

No, he would never have driven in the state he must have been in. And if his headache and lack of memory of the night's events was any indication, he must have really tied one on.

"A cab, Ben put me in a cab." Michael's sudden memory was sketchy at best, but it seemed real enough, and it made sense.

"Good, that's really good. If you like, I can drive you to pick up your car later?"

He turned from the window at her offer, careful to move slowly. So far his stomach was holding onto the ibuprofen he had swallowed and he wanted to keep it that way. "Yeah, that would be great, thanks, Sara."

Her eyes ducked away and then she was moving, gathering her handbag and keys. "I'll bring home dinner if that's okay?"

"Sounds good."

His eyes followed her to the door and then she was gone, the care she took in quietly shutting the door behind her not going unnoticed by Michael.

Staring at the solid wood for a moment, he searched his aching head for more of the previous night. Telling himself it would come, he slowly made his way into the kitchen to get some coffee.

XXXXX

Once outside the door, Sara leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She had awakened that morning, climbing out of bed feeling more confused then anything. On her way to the bathroom she had stopped, her eyes taking in his still form. As Sara stood staring at Michael's drunken slumber on her "Barbie doll sofa" her burgeoning feelings had surprised her. She was annoyed.

That annoyance had tapered off somewhat during her morning routine, but she was still plagued by questions, like who was Angela, and what role did she play in what Sara was beginning to think was a very complex life.

Michael was certainly more complex then she had ever imagined. And Sara wanted to understand him, she truly did, but just like the previous night, the answers wouldn't come.

After Michael left, Sara had spent a good deal of the night lying sleepless thinking about all that he had told her, Michael's story about Kelvin's arrest and his reaction to her questions. And then the way he had stalked out after her goof. She never should have said those things about prostitution being illegal…Sara wished even now that she could snatch her words from his mind and fix it…That she could erase his voice from her mind…Michael's hurt, angry words as he called himself a whore. This had played on her mind the most.

Finally after hours of tossing and thinking, she had drifted off to sleep only to be awakened by his pounding arrival at her door, an arrival that had brought with it even more questions to addle her brain.

Sara had intended to talk to Michael this morning, well she had intended to try anyways, but then he woke up, his lack of memory and obvious discomfort stilling her tongue, the questions dying before ever having touched her lips.

Her mind had suddenly flooded with apprehension as he focused the conversation on the mystery of how he came to be there, without a word about why he had left the apartment in the first place. His personal life was private, Sara knew this, guared by closed off eyes and unanswered questions. How could she even think to ask him about his romantic life? What right did she have to ask Michael anything of a personal nature when this was just a business deal?

It was still just business to him wasn't it? The only reason he had mentioned Kelvin was because he hadn't thought it right that she not know.

But Michael had called her an Angel. Did he think of her as an Angel? Did this mean he was starting to have real feelings for her?

Of course he had been pretty drunk, more drunk then Sara could remember ever having seen anyone. Not that she was a good judge, but Amy did like her Fruity, froo froo drinks and her friend had been known to get pretty silly on their monthly "drink night".

Besides, she reminded herself now, Michael had called them both an angel, herself and Angela. God, who was Angela! She was so confused! She had to stop thinking about this.

Sara had used the small lie that she would be late for work as an excuse to escape, but she really would be if she didn't get a move on.

Scraping a hand through her hair, Sara opened her eyes and forced herself to move along the hall and out of the building.

(Authors note: Sorry so short, but the holidays and my son's winter break from school have kept me busy. More soon i hope.)