Name: Every Morning...

Author: lizparker6

Characters: Michael/Sara

Rating: R (for language)

Genre: angst, romance, darkfic

Spoilers: vague for the end of 4x16, speculations for further episodes

Word count: approx.1330 words

Summary: A continuation piece to my other story Painfully Numb (Sara's POV on Michael's coldness and distance from her at the end of 4x16), for many ppl asked for a a Michael POV of the events. So here it is.

Every Morning…

Every Morning, Michael Scofield wakes to his 'dream-come-true'. And for the first six seconds of this moment, he stays blissfully oblivious to the fact to be still dreaming, albeit being awake.

Long and dark hair that smells of wild flowers graces the pillow next to his own, a beautiful face with alabaster skin peacefully resting to his side. The woman he loves so much it scares him being still immersed deep in her dreams, he steals five wonderfully long and painfully short minutes to just…admire her.

Every morning, Michael Scofield wakes up to a sleeping beauty at his side. And every morning, he lies in their shared bed motionlessly, simply enjoying feeling as close to another human being as possible, feeling so alive.

Every morning, the first half of this precious time he spends relishing in the proximity of Sara, and it always gives him the strength he thought to have lost a long time ago.

Every morning however, he spends the second half of these five bittersweet minutes by feeling utmost doubt and sorrow and regret and inevitably, a terrible sense of guilt.

One of the reasons is that not too long after waking, Michael starts to notice the first deep cracks in this perfect morning picture. This being however cherished and irresistible to believe to be true, it is unfortunately also cruelly deceitful and not 'real'.

His sleeping beauty's sleep isn't nearly as peaceful as he would wish, her forehead occasionally wrinkling, indicating worry, fear or grief being present in her morning dreams. His eyes then travel further, by now observing her almost obsessively, seeking new injuries and other signs of abuse she daily has to suffer at his side and yet still tries to hide from him.

Every morning Michael observes with a tight lump in his throat, how the dark circles under her eyes darken and spread with each passing day, the old wrinkles of her forehead deepen while the new start to form.

Every morning, Michael is painfully torn into two halves. He is unutterably grateful for the gift of another day with her at his side, but at the same time he hates himself for thinking this way.

Never before believing to be a selfish person, each morning Michael is proven wrong and declared guilty for being the most selfish person ever walking the face of earth.

He loves her - he needs her - in a way he doesn't need anybody else in this world. She is essential to him, essential to his very survival. And yet he is wiling to risks her life every damned day in order to pursue a goal he and he alone set in front of the both of them.

As a result of this, every morning there is a new bruise, a new scar, a new piece of evidence to his selfishness either burned or cut into her delicate flesh and skin. And these will never be removed from her like his tattoos were from him. He knows only too well that this kind of injury stays with you for the rest of your life, a constant companion and reminder of your past, a shadow staining your soul.

Every single morning, Michael Scofield has to have a fierce fight with himself not to break the promise he once gave her, that he would never leave her behind and they would finish this together.

'She would be better of without him,' he thinks, if he didn't know better by now.

Indeed he does. Even the sheer memory of the time – all of the times - they were involuntarily separated sickens him. Her front is facing him so there is no way he can get a view of her scars, but he doesn't have to see them to remember they are there. The image and feel of them is still burned into the very front of his mind.

Each morning, for a fraction of a second – the moment between just regaining consciousness and opening ones eyes - Michael wakes with an excruciating feeling of dread, convinced that today's the day when he opens his eyes and Sara isn't there anymore.

He knows he couldn't blame her if she'd leave – God, he never ever could blame her for anything – and yet, he knows that losing her - even over a 'noble' cause of serving justice to those who once ruined all of their lives - would hurt more than he could ever bear.

But every morning - despite his fears - he finds her there, willingly staying just within his reach, and Michael despises himself for feeling an enormous amount of relief and happiness every single time he find her present.

They are still together and alive, and how this is possible always awes him before he mentally berates himself, for he knows them isn't about luck or coincidence anymore. It's about devotion and sacrifice and hard work for little reward, and with a deep sinking feeling of shame, every morning, Michael realizes he can't take any credit for that.

Since from the beginning, it's been her sacrifice, her heartache, her self-denial, her selflessness and her generosity that kept them together up until now.

True, his tumor made things worse, made him worse, made him say things he would eagerly take back now if he got the chance. He won't. Besides, Michael knows very well he can't put all the blame at his illness either.

He pushes her away, not some malicious mass in his brain that's been removed a couple of weeks ago. He pushes her away and she is in pain because of that, he knows that too. There is a reason he behaves like this but it can never justify the way he is treating her. He can only pray that he will one day get the chance to explain to her.

Every morning, Michael Scofield wakes up to another internal struggle between his mind, telling him what he has to do, and his heart, telling him what he wants to do. His mind naturally wants him to stop the company, once and for all, not trying to rebuild their lives until then. His heart however, begs him to stop and look around properly for a moments, to see and realize that his actions will sooner rather than later leave irreparable damage to his relationship to Sara if he keeps on to put off the needs of the only woman he ever loved.

Every morning, his mind wins in the end while his heart bleeds. He is too afraid to let go, is too afraid that once he gets a glimpse of a 'real together', he won't be able to regain his focus on anything else, wanting more and more and more of them. He withdraws himself from her for the fear of abandoning his goal once he truly engages into…her.

And that's not his only fear. Yesterday, when he gave her a fleeting kiss on the forehead in a simple gesture of gratitude as well as affection after she brought food while he was taking a shower, she tensed.

She tensed.

He could feel it rather than see, it was so strong it was almost palpable in the small room. She tensed and he was scared – shitless - of the true reason why she flinched in the first place.

He was scared that maybe it was too late for him to start repairing what he had damaged. Maybe he has already broken them apart for good. And Michael was never more terrified to be correct ever before.

Every morning, Michael Scofield wakes up and steals five magnificent moments of sixty seconds, simply indulging in observing his loved one.

Every morning, it gets harder to withdraw his eyes and clear his throat indicating he is about to wake her, whispering softly into her ear.

And every morning - he realizes with dismay – it takes him longer to wake her up.

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Satisfied, you pokers-for-part-two? ;)