Chapter 21: Inference
Summary: Inference & Implication. Yin & Yang. Coffee & Chocolate. Some things exist only in tandem. Or ought to...

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

He loved this.

He loved his tree, too. And the beach. But this? This was his favourite. Sometimes, he wished he could stay forever. Then again, maybe not. He'd get uncomfortable. And hungry. Thirsty, too. Okay, maybe just stay for-

"...heavy."

He raised his head, reluctantly. "Hmmm..."

"I said you're getting- "

"Ah. Sorry..." And started moving off.

"No, no, don't go, yet. I meant you're, you know, getting...heavy."

"Oh. It's muscle."

"Sure it is. Mine's water retention."

"What, all of it? Not that I've noticed anything!" he added hastily. "And if I had - which I haven't - I wouldn't care. Or even mention it. I'd just appreciate that there's more of you to go around."

"Like a lamppost."

"Well, no. But if I were to mean it in that way, I suppose I'd have to say more like a tree. After all, if you were getting bigger- Owww..." He reached behind to rub. "No injuring on a hypothetical!"

"Your ass is many things, Michael, but hypothetical isn't one of them, trust me. It exists as a firm reality."

"Yet, you mistreat it."

"True, but then I'm a reality, too, and you know what they say about her being a bitch." She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his quiet laughter. "Are you sure you even want to handle hypotheticals? You're pretty inferior at inferences."

"I can't infer what isn't there."

"What do you call 'you're getting heavy'?"

"An imperfect implication- "

"Crappy inferring."

" -as demonstrated by my starting to move off, because that's what I thought you meant. "

"Yet, you're still here."

"Back by popular demand."

He moaned at her chuckle, lowering his head to her shoulder. Keeping an arm around her waist, he rolled off to the side. "Do you think we're strange?" he mused, her hip a magnet to his stroking fingers.

"I take it this is the royal 'we'?"

"Oh, no, it's definitely the inclusive. Why?" he asked, at her affronted look. "Don't you think you're at all strange? Obviously, I am."

"Only in wonderful ways," she assured, stroking a finger along his eyebrows. "Mostly. But me? No, I've never really thought of myself as strange. Just normal, I guess, ordinary..."

"There's nothing ordinary about you, Sara. And some people would think it strange that someone with your background - educated, privileged - became a drug addict- "

"You know that kind of criteria has nothing to do with drug addiction, Michael."

"Yes, but some might. I'm sure most of them, however, would find it strange that a hot, young doctor chose to work - lock herself away - in a men's prison."

"Maybe." She paused to consider. "So, you mean strange by societal norms? Then, I guess I'd have to say yes. A little." She caught his hand and started playing with its fingers. Those lovely, long fingers that filled her with...much happiness. And deep foreboding anywhere near tools. "You already knew what I looked like, didn't you? Before we first met at Fox River?"

He blinked. Torn between startled wariness and wanting to smile at her description of their first encounter. As if it they'd met at some function from the privileged life to which he'd just ascribed her. "Yeah. I had a...couple of photos," he admitted, wariness winning.

She nodded, his words expected, yet still disappointing. Why, when she knew that he'd arrived at Fox River as prepared as possible? Which, for him, meant very. No surprises allowed.

"Sara? You look- "

"It's nothing," she shrugged.

He drew her in more closely. "Tell me."

"I guess, we- " She sighed. "When we met- What are you smiling at?"

"Later. Go on..."

"When you first walked into the infirmary, I felt this- Forget it, it's stupid- "

"Talk!"

"Okay, okay. This sense of...surprise, and a kind of, well, stillness. As if everything had quietly slowed down. For a moment of significance." She paused, considering her next words, trying to temper her aggrieved sadness. "But I realise, now, that it isn't something we share. That very first time that so many couples do. Because you already knew what I looked like. I wasn't a surprise to you. Not that I'm saying you would've felt the same even if you hadn't known," she began rambling, "I mean, I'm sure it was just me. You probably didn't think - or feel - anything much. Not till later..."

He loved Sara's ramblings, but not when accompanied by a discernible embarrassment, a sad tone. "I did, though, Sara," he explained, quietly. "The same surprise. The moment in time. And, by the way, you did know what I looked like. You had my prison file, remember? With my photo."

"Yeah, but they're crap - worse than passport shots! There's no way one of those could've prepared me for seeing you in- Oh..." she smiled, sheepishly. "Right. Point taken. Sorry, my synapses aren't firing."

"Don't apologise - I blew them away."

"Actually, I did - you just benefitted from my labour."

"Okay, we're going to finish this conversation first, and then we're getting back to that!"

"Promises, promises..."

"Absolutely." He turned on his side to face her, look directly into her eyes. "Sara, when I walked into Fox River, I did know what you looked like. I knew a hell of a lot more about you than you probably realise. But my knowledge was based only on two dimensional images, black and white sequences of words. Nothing could've prepared me for the absolute reality of you. Nothing. And once I realised, well, I- "

"Michael."

" -zeroed in on you like a heat-seeking missile."

"God, you're so romantic."

"I can only work with what I'm given- Hey, I felt that!"

"Good, you have some sensitivity."

"Sara, you expect so much from just a simple, practical engineer."

"Mmm... Thought we'd already had that discussion. Anyway, thank you. For restoring my moment."

"Our moment." He played with her fingers for a while, before bringing them to his smirking lips. "So, was it long before you wanted to have your wicked, bad girly way with me?"

"Hah, you wish!"

"So much it would scare you. You know our appointments were the best part of my day, don't you? They helped keep me sane. I also dreaded them, though," he confided, looking up at the slowly whirling fan. "Needed to prepare myself before each one. You...affected me, and I had to hide that. Good thing, I'd gotten used to hiding. Still, despite everything, I'd be happy going to see you."

"I know. Me, too. And, you know, sometimes, your happiness did um, manifest itself- " She stopped at his look of horror. "No, it's-"

"Christ!" He sat up. "Shit! Fuck! Frigging hell...!"

Startled, she listened as he continued his impressive, seldom used, litany of obscenities. Wow. Spot the Burrows! "Honestly, Michael, it's okay - perfectly normal," she interrupted, trying to ease what she realised was his acute embarrassment. "A male-dominated environment, few women. A lot of my patients- " She stopped at his glare, realising she was making things worse.

"What?" He hated this. Hated that he might've embarrassed her, hated that he hadn't been able to remain in control of himself. Mikey. He'd have wrung his neck, except he'd enjoy it. More than anything, though, he realised he hated that he'd been like the rest of them. The real cons...

He felt the brush of her hands, and slumped back down on his back, smiling ruefully. "Wow. Sorry. And to think, on the way to you, I'd be reciting the periodic table of the elements, picturing the most unappealing things I could. Those meditation classes really sucked."

"I only noticed your happiness a couple of times," she smiled.

"Okay, then, they didn't completely suck."

"And it was only with you that I felt at all flattered. Even tempted. And sad. But safe, because I knew you'd never try anything."

"I'm sorry. For all of that. And...everything."

"In the past."

He stroked her back for a while, in silence. "Okay, back to that other conversation."

"Oh, right - what was all that about us being strange?"

"No, the other one."

"Uh-uh, strange first."

"I guess it just occurred to me that the...conversations we end up having after, you know..." he wafted a hand through the air between them.

"Oh, you mean the aprés sex dissection? Post-coital dissemination?"

"God, you're so romantic."

"Engineers don't hold a monopoly on practicality. Pillow talk, then?"

"Much better." He watched the hypnotic whirling of the fan blades. "I mean, grammar? Language? How normal is that? What did you and the dregs talk about? Wait, I don't want to know."

"Too late. We'd- Not a lot, really. They'd often fixate on their next hit. When could I score them more- "

"Sara."

"It's okay, Michael. I'm not proud of it, but it's part of who I am - no use pretending otherwise." She drifted her fingers down his arm. "You? What pearls of wisdom did you and the bimbos exchange?"

"Well, pearls might've cropped up, actually. They liked to talk about shopping. Things. Which they would like to buy. Or, rather, have bought for them."

"I'm ashamed for my sex. It's kind of sad, in a way. Occasions of intimacy, and we both ended being treated as...suppliers. Providers."

He looked across at her and smiled, slowly. "You know, I really don't think I have a problem with being strange."

"Me neither," she teased.

"And grammar's great."

"If grammar be the food of love, parse on. But there is a time for talk," she reminded him, dragging his arm across her middle, "and a time for action."

"Are you going to blow my synapses?"

"Is that what you're calling it these days?"

"Woah. So, it's time for Bad Girl's prison fantasy?"

"You wish!"

"You have no idea! Get ready to be scared- Oh, you think that's funny? Well, conjugate this- Okay, now you're just hurting my feelings..."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Why is Gingerbread the perfect man?"

"Is that what you're calling me these days?"

"He's quiet."

"Were you here five minutes ago?"

"He's sweet."

"Is that better than 'nice'?"

"And if he gives you any crap- "

"Oh, god, no arguing, please," he groaned into her ear. "I don't have the energy."

" -you can bite his head off."

"Dr Tancredi, you do have the best bedside conversation."

"En coitus veritas...!"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --