Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, not Prison Break, not Michael, not Sara, not even Kellerman… lame but true.

Spoilers for the second season.

Summary: How to save someone that doesn't want to be saved?

Title: Some nights

Notes: Although English isn't my first language, Lisa is great and patient, and makes this possible.

Thank you.

Any mistakes that remain are my own.

The coincidence between my story, and the show, it's just that, a curious coincidence.

I really appreciate all of the feedback and reviews that I have received... Please keep them coming!

By Lylou

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The first thing that she felt was the cold.

The intensive cold all over her body.

Sara opened her eyes, slowly, she didn't remember when was the last time that she found it so difficult to open her eyes.

Sara could feel the eyelids weighed and pained, like if she had spent many hours or days sleeping, but then she saw the bright artificial light from a bulb and closed them again.

It was just an ordinary bulb, but it seemed too bright like the damn midday sun...it hurt too much.

Sara tried to move, but all the intensive cold turned into sharp pain somewhere in her body.

She felt dizzy and blinked several times, with the tears behind her eyes, until the pain became just something dull in her right side.

Then, through the tears, Sara could see the ceiling upon her, it was discoloured and had some dark stains... she didn't know that place, and that scared her, more.

It frightened her so much that she wanted to move, Sara wanted to get up from that unknown bed and, in spite of the acute pain, run to a place where she could feel safe again... she knew that there was some place where she always felt safe and well... but she couldn't remember where, it was like her brain erased all her warm memories, like if all her reminders were coated in a thin ice, which was smudging it all with that cold...

Sara tried to move again, and this time she almost got it, she would have even sworn she had risen some centimeters off the mattress, but something impeded it.

She heard her own voice, and it sounded strange and unhealthily weak, like if she was a frightened little girl, and in spite the fear, the cold and the acute pain, she hated herself for her weakness.

Sara always has hated feeling weak.

-"No…. "

She wasn't even sure that she said it aloud, until she felt the touch of something familiar on her cheek, something soft... and warm.

Michael.

She could recognize his caresses with closed eyes, some nights, she had fallen asleep with his familiar and warm hand upon her naked back.

Sara tried to move, but the dull ache of her side turned into one million sharpened crystals running painfully through her sanguine torrent.

And then she heard his voice, low but tired, like if he lead many hours wakeful... but she knew that there was something more, that no one else would have noticed, it was only a note more sad in his soft voice, but she knew him very well, maybe she didn't know the little and quotidian things about him, but at this stage, she knew all of Michael Scofield's secrets and fears.

-"Everything is going to be okay...

I'm here."

And although she was addled and dizzy, Sara knew that he was lying.

She knew that Michael was just speaking loudly, that surely he didn't even notice that she had really woken up.

Sara wanted to move, to wake up fully and say to him that he hadn't need to continue lying, because she was fine and well now, but when she made an attempt to move again Sara felt that cold pain in her side, as if the skin near the wound was freezing and all her blood was coagulating on it, it was dreadful, much more worse than the morning after having been drugged for the very first time, when she woke up in company and at an unknown house at thirty damn kilometers of her car.

She let escape a weak moan amongst her very dry and pale lips, and listened to Michael's voice again, this time much more distant, like if they were on the phone and he was to a million kilometers of her again.

And he sounded exceptionally sad, even for him:

-"Everything is going to be okay Sara..."

"No, everything is wrong…" she would have liked to answer her, but only thinking about the pain of trying to talk persuaded her not to.

She doubted that she was really awake, that maybe all that was some of guilty and painful dreams that she used to have every time that she slept with Kellerman... but it wasn't.

Sara was sure that it wasn't a dream because it looked too much like real life; it wasn't that someone had shot her before, but all was so fucking painful and sad, that it had to be truth.

Some professional and meddler corner of her mind asked then: Why the hell has he not taken you to a hospital?"

Sara wasn't very sure of the answer in her actual situation, but she decided that it didn't matter, because if Michael couldn't save her, no doctor in the world would be able to do it.

It wasn't that one of the Michael's hidden accomplishments was a degree on medicine, but she thought understandably, that there was nothing in the world that that lonely man may do for her.

"But I am trying."

Sara remembered very well that day, she could remember how she felt that morning, frightened, crawling over the distant Fox River's dusty pipes.

She remembered his voice and his presence next to her in the darkness, like if they were the only two not insane persons in that hell.

"Try it a bit harder Michael… Make as you could save me again."

Then the very few that Sara could see, went meld and dizzy again, and after that, nothing, just... darkness.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Michael felt the cold water upon his face again.

He had a headache, the worst since his first party at the faculty.

Michael looked at the moldy roof and sighed once, he could listen to the wind at the other side of the thin wall of that normal and dusty motel, he never thought that he could miss that kind of things... from that not so distant cell, he couldn't hear the wind.

Sometimes, when he woke up, seemed that he was in that filthy and unkind litter again, and Michael suspected that it was the same, that it didn't matter that happens ten months or ten years, because he never would be the same man again.

Although they had been able to escape those walls, Fox River was in him, inside him, like a parasite having food slowly off his guest, absorbing every trail of forgiveness to him, and Michael knew that he never would be able to leave that behind.

Never.

But some nights, she could make him believe that "maybe..."

Michael hit the dirty mirror in the wall, once, twice...as if that could solve something at this point, like if that could do something good for her now.

But the warm and guilty pain in his hand made Michael feel centred again.

He hated being scared.

Michael unbuttoned his shirt, almost furious, and checked all his tattoos again.

With the fading and oscillating light of the bathroom, they seemed even more dark and permanent, like a weird monster all over his body, like if they possessed him and not on the contrary.

All the details of his plan, all those tattoos on his skin and not one was about her.

Not one of those maps and dissimulated clues had anything to do with her, and however, there she was, in each curve of that maze, in each wall and in each contingency drawn with fire upon his skin

Then Michael heard a noise in the dark bedroom and abandoned fastly the small bathroom without tying his shirt.

-"Sara…."

She was awake and up, looking at the wound in the mirror hanged up on one of walls.

She was naked under one of the bed covers and was tring to taking off the elementary bandages that he had put before, the room was in darkness except for the pale light of the bathroom and for the lightning of the storm outside.

He walked until he reached her and touched softly upon her shoulder... but she didn't turn around to look at him, she was too busy examining her dark wound.

-"Sara...

How are you feeling?"

She didn't answer but her eyes did leave the wound and looked at the floor.

-"Sara..."

-"It hurts like hell"

Michael smiled sadly and talked again, more low than before:

-"... I don't know what to say...

I'm sorry."

-"You always are Michael..."

It was true, the apologies were his speciality, but he still could see her blood on his jeans so now they were even.

-"Maybe you should come back to bed."

-"Maybe..."

-"What the hell were you thinking about Sara?"

-"I don't know... but I'll do it again.

Everything"

A flash of lightning illuminated her half-covered body in front of the mirror and she felt a soft chill upon her back, her voice sounded low when she spoke again:

-"...Do you think he is dead?"

-"Would it matter to you if he was?"

His question floated on the dark room for a few seconds until she answered:

-"Yes... Because I shot him... I shot him to save you.

Of course it matters."

-"Sorry... I was busy trying to save your life to check him.

...Did you love him?"

The question sounded rough and painful, because he was angry with her... but Michael wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

-"No.

But his lie was less painful than yours."

-"He shot you!"

-"And you left me!"

Michael looked at her, with his eyes darker than normally, maybe it was just because he was tired... maybe not.

He would have wanted to kiss her then, but not with the sweet and soft kind of kiss, no. Something more hard and painful that usually, he wanted her to plead under the weight of his naked body, feel her nails getting pricked in his own skin, to pass his hands through her face and feel her warm and angry tongue around his long fingers, her hot saliva on his skin... Michael wanted to hear her voice breaking saying his name, he wanted to push roughly into her and make love to her without much consideration.

And his voice sounded darker and lower than usual:

-"That's why you slept whim him... to punish me?"

-"Not everything has to do with you Michael.

I slept whit him because I wanted to, and because he wasn't you."

He thought again about the million desperate and warm things that he was wishing to do to her... she was so near that Michael could almost pull out the damned blanket around her naked body and prove her how furious and heated he was.

There was another flash of lightning outside but Michael didn't notice it.

-"I'm tired of that Sara... I can't live in this way."

-"Yes you can Michael, because this way is all that we have."

That was too much for him. He knew it was dreadful, but hearing her say it out loud was a thousand times worse.

Michael grabbed her wrist and pulled her brusquely toward him, separating Sara from the mirror until she finally looked at him.

Her hair was uncombed and she had that defiant look that always drove him crazy: "If you are going to do something, just do it."

Then Michael kissed her, a furious and desperate kiss, soaking her lips with his mouth and caressing hard her hair, he was more and more angry and feeling her hot and familiar body against him it wasn't helping.

-"Do you think you can do this to me Sara...?"

She looked at him and could see that his eyes were like greenish liquid fire, Sara knew that he was mad at her, and in heat, and scared.

Sara never had seen Michael so angry before, but she was an expert in angering people, especially the men in her life.

Michael slowly raised his left hand that she could see them.

-"Look at this Sara"

She didn't want to look because she knew very well what she was going to see.

-"Look!"

She finally looked his hands and saw the dry blood underneath his fingernails, her own blood.

She passed her hands over his half tied shirt and could see the dark and unmistakable blood stains on the fabric.

-"That's your blood Sara... "

His voice sounded low and cold in that dark room, but she approached him until she could smell his skin under his half open shirt.

She was sorry, and the guilt made her feel even sadder, but Michael was so close and suddenly the room seemed really small and hot to her, like if someone had stolen all the air in it, and Sara knew very well what was coming next, after all the hot, the guilt and the angry...

Desperate and guilty sex and paper roses over her pillow the next morning.

Michael was so close that he could feel his own breath upon her skin, could see how her eyes were closed when he passed his long fingers over her warm and wet lips, he leant his forehead against her temple and spoke angry and hot into her ear:

-"Do you think you can die and leave me, just to save my life...?

You are wrong honey... I'll explain to you how wrong you are."

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To be continued...

Any feedback is love.