"Coming." Sara hurried across the living room, zipping up her dress.
"Sara?" A fairly handsome man, more or less her age, smiled at her as she opened the door.
"You must be Gary." Sara smiled politely. She grabbed the purse she'd tossed in things into, shocked that she even still had it. She hated purses, preferring to carry the same worn leather backpack that had made her through med school. She'd only taken the purse because her mother would have had a complete conniption if she had refused the gift. Sara had learned at a young age that it was better to give into her mother on the little things.
Gary held out his arm. It was a totally old fashioned gesture and it irritated Sara.
Michael would never . . . She stopped herself short. What made her think that. What made her think about Michael. Scoffield. His name is Scoffield. He's just a prisoner. She told herself firmly.
It wasn't her business that for all his brains, he clearly wasn't a career criminal, he was totally stupid for not taking the first chance to get out of there. She was there as the head doctor and she'd do her job. She'd run his blood tests and give him his meds. She'd patch him up when he got the shit beaten out of him. Just like she did for every other prisoner. He was just like all the others.
Bullshit. Sara knew she wasn't fooling herself. He wasn't like every other prisoner. And it wasn't just that he was good looking. She wasn't sure what it was. What made her give an honest damm about him. What had made her stomach lurch when she got the call that a prisoner had been injured in PI and she saw them bringing him in. She remembered clearly the catch in his voice, the tears running down his cheeks, the look in his eyes like he was trying to keep himself from freaking out. Screw the damm rules, she had wanted to grab him and hug and let him cry. For all his bravado, he had been scared and she had honestly wanted to protect him. Not as a doctor, but as a friend.
"Sara?" Gary's voice crashed in on her thoughts. He was holding open the car door, waiting.
"I'm sorry, Gary. I can't do this." Sara said sheepishly. It wasn't fair to him. She couldn't go and pretend to be having a good time with him when she was thinking about someone else. Thinking about wanting to be there with someone else.
Because it wasn't the whole doctor/patient thing that had stopped her when Michael had not so subtly attempted to ask her out that afternoon. She didn't want to take his bet because she was scared he'd lose. Scared that damn place would get the best of him and he'd be the next bloody body she'd be shipping back to a family.
So instead of making plans that would never come to pass, she'd shut him down. And tried to ignore the hurt in his eyes.
And hoped that maybe he'd toughen up a bit and get smart and get out. And let her go back to not caring about them as people. But somehow, she didn't think she'd get that lucky. He was so stubborn he'd probably insist on sticking around to spite her.
And the truth, Sara thought to herself as she let herself back into her apartment, the truth was, she wasn't sure whether she was really mad about that.