A/N: Another chapter (yay!) and it's completely Misa fluff. I'm not sorry. Hope you enjoy, and I'd be happy to hear from you :D
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It was around six when they finally got to Michael's place. She was exhausted and beyond the point of being hungry, but the Chinese food they'd grabbed on the way back still smelled good. She was sure as soon as she started eating, she'd be ravenous, the food awakening her appetite.
He stuck the key in the door and turned the knob with one hand, holding the bag of food with the other. She followed him inside, shocked by the interior. She wasn't sure what she was expecting- but she'd certainly pictures more of a bachelor pad than this. It was beautiful; a black and white color scheme, modern, and undeniably…artsy? She couldn't place it, but it looked as though a professional designer had been consulted, with sleek metallic sculptures and light fixtures that looked like they came straight out of a design catalog. It was clean and despite its beauty, it felt comfortable and homey.
"Nice place," she managed, a definite understatement.
"Thanks, I like it," he agreed, setting the food down on the black, granite counter.
"Did you do all the," she spun her finger around in a circle, gesturing to all the décor.
"Uh, yea," he admitted rather reluctantly, though she couldn't imagine why he'd be embarrassed. It was stunning.
"It's beautiful," she told him, hoping he'd take the compliment without further embarrassment.
"Yea?" he asked as he started unpacking the food.
She looked at him with a, "duh," expression and scoffed, "Uh, yea. Compared to my apartment this is…"
"What's yours like?" he wondered, clearly still not thinking his was anything special.
"Well," she drew out the word, "I pretty much moved in, threw a few pictures on the wall, unpacked the necessities and everything else is still in boxes."
He laughed, a sound she was growing fond of quickly, "Nothing wrong with that."
"Yea well," she thought about it, "I guess I just always figured that apartment is temporary, you know? Not where I'll live forever so why bother unpacking the stuff I don't really use."
"True," he agreed, handing her dinner and nodded towards the living room, "wanna sit down? Watch something?"
"Sure," she took the proffered food and followed him over to the couch. It was black leather, fairly firm and sleek. A glass coffee table was in front of it, and the T.V. mounted on the wall above a beautiful fireplace surrounded by white stone.
He clicked the remote as they sat down, and a home renovation show popped on. She chuckled.
"What?" he asked with humor.
"I just can't say that I'm terribly surprised, that's all."
"Hey, I am an engineer," he defended, "you know, designing things. I'm practically doing research right now."
Sarcastically, "Right. That's like me saying, "I watch Grey's Anatomy as part of my continuing education.""
He let out an actual, "Ha," followed by, "ok fine, I just like seeing the process, and what people do with the interiors. My job is more about planning and codes and safety…it's nice to see what the structures can actually become when they're finished," he shrugged and took a bite of his food, "I usually don't see the end result."
"I get that," she hoisted her legs onto the couch and crossed them, leaning back, "I guess that's like me never able to follow up with patients I see. They come in horribly sick or injured, I stabilize them, and then send them on their way."
She took a bite and let out a contented sigh; she would never take a hot meal for granted again.
"Good?" he asked.
"So good," she looked over, "thank you."
"Of course," he dismissed with a tone that said it wasn't a big deal. After another moment he asked, "Did they let you eat at all, or…?"
"I snuck some food," she told him. She knew he had to be curious about what she'd been though, and she was too tired to keep her walls up. It didn't hurt to tell him whatever he wanted to know; secrets weren't helpful, at least not in this case, and she felt like she owed him that much. He showed up, and he was still helping her, the least she could do was answer a few questions that might ease his mind.
"Anything good?" he asked lightly, his eyes on the T.V.
She scoffed, "Jerky and pretzels. A very well-balanced meal."
He laughed, "Better than nothing I guess."
"Yup," she agreed and took another bite. God it tasted so good.
"I know they checked you out at the hospital and everything," he began, his voice a bit softer, "but are you really feeling okay?"
"I'm okay," she assured with a nod, "I'm tired. A little sore here and there, but overall I really can't complain…it could've been a lot worse."
"Did you ever find out what that guy wanted with you? Why he took you guys?"
She shrugged, meeting his eyes against her better judgement, she knew she'd elicit a strong response with her next words, "He was going to sell us. I don't know where or to whom or for what…that's all he said."
Concealing disgust, "But you have a few guesses."
She replied with a simple, "I mean yea I figured something sexual. Why else do people kidnap young women? Although it could've been something else."
"Like what?" he asked with narrowed eyes, still obviously displeased with the fate she'd almost fallen into.
"Body parts, organs."
"Really?"
"Oh yea, black market stuff," she explained, "we'd become unwilling organ donors. They make a lot of money off of that kinda thing. But like I said, I don't know."
Bluntly, childlike stubbornness, "I don't like that."
She choked out a laugh, causing him to look even more concerned, which she found even funnier. She spoke through her smile, "I mean yea I don't like the idea either. For the record though, I am an organ donor on my driver's license, but only after something terrible happens to me first."
He seemed a bit mollified that she was taking it so well, but replied with smirk, "I don't like that idea either."
She put a hand on his arm, "Don't worry, I won't be throwing myself into oncoming traffic anytime soon. I just, I don't know. I'm here, and I'm okay. I'd rather just move forward."
He set his food down and turned to face her more directly, "Does it worry you that he, that both of them, are still out there?"
She considered this, tilting her head, "A little, yea. But I have to think that they wouldn't be dumb enough to come after me again. They have to know their cover is blown, at least Bellick anyways. We know his name. If he's smart, he's running for the hills."
"He doesn't seem very smart to me," Michael observed, not willing to pay this man any kind of compliment.
She grimaced, "I mean, he has gotten away with this before from how he was talking. I'd rather not underestimate him…I just worry he'll do it again if he manages to get away. That he'll take someone else, and that they won't be so lucky."
"It sounds like Alex and Paul are on it," he offered.
She tilted her head, "Who?"
"Lincoln's cop buddies; they're good at what they do."
"Were they the ones I talked to?"
"No, I didn't recognize the ones who interviewed you, but I know Alex and Paul are in charge of the case, so they'll go over your statement. They were there with us in the E.R., you just didn't see them," then he added, "they let us tag along."
"Hmm," she set her empty container down on the coffee table, running a hand through her hair, "you think they'll let us know? If they make progress?"
"I'm sure of it," he smirked, "Lincoln knows where they live."
She chuckled, then asked, "How did he get involved in this anyways?"
He leaned back, propping one leg up so his ankle rested on his other knee, "Lincoln?"
"Yea."
"He's the one who found Veronica."
Confused, "Found her where?"
"Locked up in that building," he explained, and seeing her blank expression continued, "the old restaurant on the river?"
Her brows furrowed.
He sighed, "Guess Vee didn't explain much."
"Guess not," she agreed with an eyeroll, then added, "we didn't talk long before I got dragged away though. Poked and prodded and questioned. I need to see her again- Lincoln too if he wouldn't mind."
"We can meet up tomorrow if you want?" he offered.
Nodding, "I'd like that. I'm sure she's exhausted too, but I wanna hear her side of the story from after she left."
"Right," he agreed, then paused. They listened to the television in silence for a few minutes before he added, "If you need a shower or anything, just make yourself at home."
"Thanks," she replied, then looked down at her clothes, "you don't happen to have any women's clothes lying around, do you?"
His eyes widened in mild horror, a look unjustified guilt at her implying he had a string of lovers perusing through his apartment on a regular basis, "I, no-"
She smiled, "I'm teasing. I've just been in these clothes for days and wouldn't mind a change."
"I can go get you some," he started to offer, already getting up.
She held up a hand, "-no it's fine I'll just uh…"
She didn't know what she'd do. She reallyyyy didn't want to sleep in the jeans and shirt she'd been wearing for days. They were starting to feel grimy and well, traveled in. In a dirty truck, a motel room, and E.R.
He slowly started to sit back down, a low voice, "You can borrow anything if you want. Won't fit well, but…"
She met his eyes, clear and open, "Yea," she agreed slowly, "yea, okay if you have even a shirt I could borrow…"
He stood up now, "Come on," and nodded towards the hallway. She got up and followed, realizing she'd already entered the "raiding your boyfriend's closet" portion of their relationship. If they were in one? She wasn't sure.
They entered the last door on the left, the master bedroom, and he stopped in front of the closet, opening the doors. Most of it was business attire, collared shirts and suit jackets. She wasn't surprised, given his profession, but on the far right side was a far more casual collection of shirts.
She glanced to him, "Any of them, or?"
"Whatever you want."
She looked at him skeptically, "There's no favorite shirt in here that you'll be concerned about if I take it?"
He grinned, "Scout's honor, I will not be upset even if you chose my finest suit," then added, "I don't know why you'd want to sleep in a suit, but-"
She chuckled and flipped through a few shirts, finding a soft heather gray crew neck and slipping it off the hanger. When she looked back to him she realized he was staring at her legs. She looked down too. Her jeans…oh yea.
"Uh," he rubbed his head, a nervous laugh, "anything you want to borrow is fine, though I doubt anything I have will really fit you."
He was probably right. Even sweatpants or athletic shorts would just fall down unless she pulled the string and tied it tight. She didn't want to do that. She held the shirt up in front of her, the neckline even with her current shirt. The hem came to rest about halfway between her knees and hips. That was good enough, right? Hell, in grade school it would've passed the "finger length" test. He saw what she was considering and averted his gaze.
"This'll be fine," she declared.
Perking up, "Yea?"
"Yea it's fine," she decided, not wanting to waste any more time in her current clothes, and knowing she'd be asleep soon anyways. She pointed to the master bath, "Ok if I change in here?"
"By all means," he assured, "I'll be out in the living room if you need anything."
"Ok," she padded into the bathroom as she heard his retreating footsteps. With the door shut behind her, she started peeling off her jeans, leaning her weight onto one foot at a time and realizing they were still a bit swollen, a bit sore. It just felt like she'd been on her feet all day when in reality she'd just given them a beating by running barefoot on hot cement. It would be better tomorrow.
Her shirt came off over her head and she folded it messily and set it on the counter, laying her jeans on top of it. Her eyes were burning, the dull ache of fatigue, feeling like they had sand in them. She blinked hard and pulled Michael's shirt over her head, situating it and tugging it down. It was long enough. It was fine.
Her hair draped over her shoulders in messy waves, having just been air dried after her motel shower. She splashed warm water on her face and dried it with the hand towel, feeling sleepier by the minute. She wanted to go to bed, but she didn't want to ask. It seemed rude somehow. They hadn't been in the apartment for more than an hour and she was ready to crash. A party pooper. Not that this was a party, but still. Didn't seem right.
She knew he'd understand. If she asked to go to bed and slept for twelve hours, he'd leave her undisturbed even if he had to leave for work in the morning- she knew that.
She sighed and shook off her worries, exiting the bathroom and heading back over to the couch. Her mental capacity for thought was gone anyways so she might as well just roll with it, her mind was unfiltered and sometimes that could be a good thing. Honest.
He was leaning back with both arms resting on the back of the couch, so she plopped down next to him and rested her head back on his arm. He pretended not to notice, but shifted ever so slightly closer to her, and she relaxed into him.
"You're still watching this?" she teased.
"Yup," he replied without remorse, "it's entertaining yet somehow mindless at the same time," then he looked down at her, and she realized how close he was, "unless you'd rather watch something else?"
"Uh," she stammered, trying to ignore their close proximity, "no…I should probably get some sleep anyways, before too long."
His gaze lingered, boring a hole into hers, "Yea, you should; I'm sure you're exhausted."
A small nod, "I am."
He continued to observe her face and she wondered what he saw; far more than the average person, she was certain of that. It was strange, feeling this level of vulnerability from eye contact, but some people had that effect- like they really saw you, even the parts you were trying to hide.
"But," she continued softly, "I don't want to kick you off the couch."
"What'dya mean?"
"I mean if I sleep on the couch I don't want to kick you out of your own living room right now."
"Who said you're sleeping on the couch?"
"I did," she replied with confident humor, "just now."
He smirked, "I'll take the couch-"
"-no. No no no, I'm not taking your food and your shirt and your bed-"
"-first, I offered, and-"
"-no." She said more firmly, "I mean it."
He glanced more closely at her now, saw that she was serious, and sighed, "Fine. You win. At least let me find some blankets and a better pillow."
Satisfied, she agreed, "I accept your terms."
He shot her back an amused smirk as he went to the hall closet and returned with a few blankets and a full sized pillow.
"Thanks," she tossed the pillow to the edge of the couch and unfolded the blanket.
"Have everything you need?"
"I think so, yea," she told him, then, "sorry to kick you out."
"No, it's fine," he quickly assured, "I have a bit of work I can do anyways. I'll be in the bedroom on my laptop if you need anything."
"Ok," she held his eyes a moment before he reluctantly turned and headed down the hall. She grabbed the remote and shut the T.V. off, the silence almost deafening at first, but then offering space for her mind to feel the weight of her fatigue. Her head crashed into the pillow and she snuggled the blanket up under her chin. Finally, she could get some rest.
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The idea of sleep was great, but reality wasn't so kind to Sara. After her eyes had closed for a few moments, the images started assaulting her. For the first time since she'd escaped, she was alone- alone with her thoughts, and her imagination was running wild. A slideshow of her past few days clicked by at a rapid pace: the look in their captor's eyes, the smell of the inside of the truck, the way it felt to be tasered, to not control her own body. She could practically feel the hot pavement against her cheek when she'd fallen that Friday night, and saw the fear in Veronica's eyes.
She felt like she was falling somehow, swirling, spiraling into darkness. Into danger.
Her own eyes popped open as she sucked in a deep breath, her shoulder's rising and fighting the tension in her chest. She knew that belly breathing was helpful in anxious moments, but that was easier said than done. She tried again; a deep, slower inhale through her nose, staring at the fireplace before her and trying to replace all the images in her mind with that instead. For a moment, she was successful. The fireplace was the center of her attention, keeping her safe from everything else. Then her eyes blinked closed again, and she was back in the truck.
This wasn't going to work.
Like a defeated child, she stood up and grabbed the pillow, lightly stomping her way down the hall and knocking on the door to the bedroom. To hell with boundaries; she needed sleep like a desert needs rain, and one way or another, she was going to get it.
"It's open," he replied from behind the door.
She turned the knob and walked in, pillow still in hand, "I can't sleep."
He was sitting at his desk, which faced the wall across from the door. He twisted around in his chair to face her, "Oh?"
"And I was wondering if I could sleep with you. Sleep, like actual sleeping."
He smirked, "No, I get it. And of course, let me just wrap this up. Two minutes, tops."
"I can live with that," she tossed the pillow on the side of the bed closest to her, burrowing under the covers. She felt better already, just having another person in the room. She listened to the clacking of his keyboard, the soft blue light from the laptop illuminating him from behind. She felt…comfortable. It was strange, really, and a bit unconventional, the way they were getting to know each other. In reality, they'd had what? Two dates?
He shut the lid of the laptop and headed for the bathroom. She heard water running and the sound of teeth being brushed, the domestic sounds already lulling her. He emerged in boxers and a different shirt, a softer, older looking one. She wasn't sure where the change of clothes came from, but she didn't care; when he sunk down next to her and under the covers, she could have wept with relief. She was so tired, soul-deep, and finally had enough comfort and peace of mind to rest.
He settled on his back with a few feet in between them, but she was drawn closer to him by an unknown force, rolling over and scooching closer, until her head came to rest on his chest.
"Thank you," she whispered.
His response was a kiss on her hair, the pressure grounding her even further, a wave of fatigue reaching down to her toes. She closed her eyes and saw nothing but blackness, falling quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.