Another one of my short fics about Michael and Sara.
Title: GPS
Author: lizparker6
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield
Pairing: Sara/Michael
Genre: romance, gen, pwp, longer drabble
Rating: PG
Word Count: approx. 500
Summary: Just a little talk between Michael and Sara about a certain privacy issue.
Spoilers: Mild for season 4.
GPS
He approaches her when she stands alone at the very bottom of the stairs that lead up to her sanctuary. She looks absent-minded, jerking her head with a frightened start when his hand touches her shoulder carefully.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." she merely shrugs her head in dismissal. "It's ok."
He looks around, watching the warehouse as it buzzes with life. Maybe for the very first time, this actually works in their favor, for they are not being noticed nor watched by anybody at all.
His hand slides down her bicep, his fingers finally curling around her elbow. "Listen, Sara…" he begins, trying to handle the subject he is about the discuss as delicately as possible. "I know you are not one of us…" his eyes skim the big space, resting on each of his fellow travelers for a fragment of a second, then his eyes return to her. She looks expectantly, trustingly. He sighs nervously.
"…and I know that there is a great deal of privacy you've already given up for this, for me, but there is one last thing I would like to ask from you." His eyes are hesitant to meet hers at first, concerned to see denial.Truth to be told, what he is most afraid of is that those soft, warm brown eyes of hers will tell him he has already asked for too much, took too much that there is nothing else left to take. When he finally meets her eyes however, there is a complety different thing shining from under her long eyelashes. There is trust and there is love and there is giving, and - Oh God - there is still so much she has to give and is willing to give and do it so freely and openly, all just for him.
"What?"
He swallows. "I know you don't need to wear one of those GPS ankle bracelets, because you are not a fugitive working off a punishment here like the rest of us, but…" he stops for a moment, "...but could you wear one anyway? For me." He adds. "In case there was an emergency."
He looks directly at her now and sees something soften in her look. She doesn't say a word but merely lifts the hem of her jeans, exposing the skin of her ankle and there it is, a black GPS navigator already securely put in place.
"I've figured you might wanna have me wear one of these." She smiles knowingly, cheekily even, and his chest is all of a sudden too small for his heart.
"You know, you don't have to wear one if you do not want to." He says carefully, giving her a choice he doesn't really want to give.
"I know. But you do. And that's reason enough." There is something deeply understanding in her look, an acknowledgement for him and his fears for her safety.
And once again, Michael Scofield cannot understand how this one precious thing in his life - this thing that keeps him alive and going and hoping every damned day - could click so easily and perfectly into place, and still blossom beautifully under such crude and grave circumstances.
XXX