Name: Another day on the run

Characters: Michael/Sara

Genre: het, angst, short-fic, hurt/comfort, general

Rating: pg-13

Word count: 460

Thanks: to spunkyar for the wonderful beta. :)

Summary: "It's another day on the run, another day away from the relative sanctuary of the warehouse, another day that she is hurt in the endless danger that surrounds their lives."

This is for tvalcoholic, a belated Bday gift. Hope you'll enjoy it. *hugs you tight dear*

Another day on the run

It's another day on the run, another day away from the relative sanctuary of the warehouse, another day that she is hurt in the endless danger that surrounds their lives.

Running away from the bullets that whistle around them, Sara stumbles at some point, falling hard to the ground before Michael has time to even register she is falling. In a matter of seconds, she is again on her feet and running, never minding the fact that half of her face is angry red and stained with blood. The mangled bloody mess of her chin starts right beneath her eye and stretches down to the very bottom of her jaw line, but she never even cries out an ounce of pain the entire time.

Later when they're back in the quite setting of the abandoned warehouse, Sara quickly disappears into the bathroom to get cleaned up. When she emerges again some time later, everything that is left of her injury is a group if vertical gashes and scrapes across the side of her face and an angry purple bruise that's just started forming along her jaw line.

While the rest of the warehouse's ensemble of thieves, criminals and victims of coincidence and chance discuss their day, curse words flying through the air like bullets of lead, Sara calmly withdraws from the group, seeking sanctuary in the tranquil quiet of her land locked boat.

As could only be expected, her pursuer isn't far behind. While he knows his company is nearly always welcomed, Michael proceeds with carefulness. It's been a tiring and stressful day and he doesn't want to crowd her. As he slowly climbs the boat steps, he also tries to convince himself that he's here to make sure she is alright; and that he is here for her sake instead of his own.

She is sitting on her bunk, her eyes raised to his expectantly, her hands resting on the covers in what he knows by now is an invitation. So, with a comforting sense of familiarity, he sits down and looks sideways at the woman he claims to love unconditionally yet continues to endanger every single day.

His hand comes up to caress her cheek but stops just above her skin, his fingers trembling slightly while they hover over the damaged flesh.

"They will heal," she assures him, cradling his hand to her cheek and pressing his fingers more firmly against the angry cuts of her face, as if to prove to him that she isn't that easily breakable.

"I know." He says with a sigh.

What he doesn't say out aloud however, is that he is scared, scared out of his mind, that one day she may get hurt beyond the point of repair.

Xxx