This is a gift for parrotsketch, whom I promised a birthday fic that I post now, although inexcusably late (so sorry hunny…). Anyway, happy belated birthday sweetie!

Also, incredibly huge thanks to wonderful alienmom, who is such a sweetheart and did a marvelous job with betaing this story. Without you mom, it wouldn't be half as good. Oh and mom, that gift card was priceless, you are too good to me, doing research only on my account. ;)

Oh, and I simply love those little comments of yours, explaining why you changed this and that – "planting sounds like tending to a garden", lol, I really appreciate that.

Title: Tell me who I am
Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Brad Bellick, (Roland, Lincoln, the rest of the Warehouse Team)
Pairing: Sara/Michael
Genre: angst, romance, drama

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: approx. 3000 words
Summary: Sara agrees to take one for the team, but it affects her in more ways than she would think and Brad Bellick is the fortunate one to take the heat.

Spoilers: Speculative situation during S4.

Tell me who I am

She feels like a piece of meat. Like some cattle offered for sale. All eyes skim over her; evaluating, assessing, enjoying. She knows most of the guys just try to calculate if she is dressed well enough to play her role in order to get the job done. Then again, there are some eyes that simply enjoy the view she gives and she almost shivers in repulsion.

And then, there is one pair of eyes that doesn't look at her at all. The only person whose stare she actually would enjoy shies away, with his eyes strangely impassive and restless at the same time.

Sara knows Michael hates the idea of using her as bait, exploiting all her feminine charm to get a job done. They had a frustrating and rather heated discussion about it earlier. And although she doesn't like the idea very much herself, she doesn't feel like she has much of a choice. It's the most simple and only way to get what they need. So she volunteers, being the only woman on the team, to do the distasteful job.

There were actually a few dresses she could pick from. Agent Self offered her a choice she was more than happy to accept. Several had low cut backs, that would leave her back exposed and even though Sara was willing to play her part, she wasn't willing to offer the evidence of her torture for public display, not to her companions. Not to anyone. So she chose the most conservative dress at her disposal, not because she wanted to pretend shyness or modesty, but simply because it was her only choice if she wasn't going to show her scars.

Now she is standing in front a bunch of ex-cons, who dared to evaluate whether her choice of clothes is slutty enough. She hates to confess even to herself how self-conscious their looks make her feel.

"I think you can do better." says Roland at last, his eyes narrowed and shamelessly seizing her up and down. "You aren't going to get closer than 20 feet to a man like him unless you show more of your...advantages." At this, he looks directly at the thin material covering her breasts and she thinks she can't feel more objectified. Before she has the opportunity to answer however, Roland continues. "And that back of yours, I don't want to make inappropriate comments or suggestions here,…" his tone stays careless while he pops another M&M into his mouth, "…but I guess you have one hell of a back and trust me, guys love bare backs, so you might wanna lose some of the fabric there too."

She feels her neck and cheeks being flushed with hot blood and sees Michael's gaze instantly shift from studying the railing to Roland's blatant face.

"Maybe you missed the part where she is supposed to play "accidental company" and not a call-girl." Michael hisses, his eyes narrowed, evident of how serious he is.

He is tense and not at all confident about what they are about to do, knowing only too well Sara's discomfort yet stubborn determination to accomplish her task. It's nothing compared to how he is feeling about lowering his already sunken standards to offer her as human bait. He looks up, his eyes intending to finally meet Sara's in an attempt to once again tell her she doesn't need to do this. He misses them entirely when her eyes look shyly away from his. She knows.

Michael studies her face instead. She is pale and uncomfortable, but he also sees the tension that arose at Roland's last remark. It must have triggered a fire of anger inside of her too, because her eyes, now averted to the ground, are shining in anger and humiliation. Just at this awkward moment, one person in the crowd, who doesn't sense the tightness and humming energy hanging in the air, decides to make a clumsy attempt to gain some points and score with the male population of the warehouse.

"Look Michael, we all know you wanna keep your little woman safe, but the guy ain't gonna bite until the Doc, here, shows some real skin." says Bellick jovially, still oblivious to the sparking atmosphere in the room.

Something inside of Sara snaps with an unknown fury and unfamiliar urge to strike back and maim, rising in her chest. The scars on her back catch on fire again, and for a split second, she can, all at once feel the skin of her back rip open with the searing pain from Gretchen's whip.

"And yet, it took just an old pair of jeans and a worn-out shirt for you, Bradley, to hit on me during an NA meeting, trying to impress me with a dinner invitation that would be paid for by a gift card."

She hits her target and God, does it feel good. Bellick's expression crumbles like a cheap plaster from the wall. She sees Lincoln's face spread into a grin and Sucre even lets out an involuntary giggle. Her eyes end up on Michael and her stomach drops. He is looking at her, watching her, but his expression is unfamiliar and unsettling. It's a mix of surprise and odd disbelief. She can't stand his expression any longer and looks at Brad once again. It's only then, she feels the pang of shame and sympathy for the man she knows she just humiliated in front of the men he is forced to work with, day after day, possibly for the rest of his life.

However, Sara shakes those feelings off quickly. Her face and pace once again a mask of calm and confidence as she steps forward, making her way to the SUV. She has a role to play and she will do it perfectly even without having her damaged skin for public display.

XXXXX

She is drained. She should feel accomplished, because they have the copy of the next card, but the adrenaline left her body hours ago and she is now only tired and spent. She was listening to words of praise the whole drive back to the warehouse, but she doesn't feel validated. She feels lonely and she misses Michael. She is exhausted, depleted and she just wants to get on her boat, fall asleep and not wake up for at least a week.

When she enters the warehouse, she is met by an odd sight, Roland is sitting at his computer, giving her a thumbs-up, but Michael and Bellick are sitting at the table quietly talking. Bellick's cheeks are a bit flushed and he looks at her sheepishly, giving her a small tentative nod that tells her they are ok. It's this rather generous gesture, however, from Brad Bellick that causes her stomach to drop. A sudden stab of guilt and remorse for her earlier words come all rushing back, flooding her brain and poisoning her heart.

She is too tired and ashamed to attempt doing something about these feelings now. She casts them an acknowledging glance before making her way to the stairs that lead to her sanctuary. She is now lonely and feels like weeping.

She doesn't bother to change, she merely kicks off her shoes and crashes onto the bunk, curling into a small ball and finally allowing the tears to flow freely. After a few short moments however, they stop, she's even too drained for crying. So she wait for the sleep that never comes.

In the distance, she is vaguely aware of the men talking. She can distinctly hear Michael's velvety voice glide over the rest of the crowd like honey on toast. Not long after, she hears soft footsteps on the stairs and a gentle knock on her already half-opened door. He seems to hesitate for a moment, but then enters.

"Hey." Michael says softly into the dark space, quietly enough not to wake her, in case, she was already asleep. Not that he thought she would be.

"Hey." She answers in a choked voice.

"You alright?" he asks, deep concern coating his voice and it's all she can do not to start to weep anew.

"No." she admits in a small voice after a while. He crosses the remaining space and sits down on the edge of her bunk, facing her back. Carefully, almost tentatively, he lays his hand on her head, caressing her hair lightly.

"What happened?" He asks after a moment of silence, continuing to glide his hand over the soft hair covering her neck.

"Everything and nothing." she finally turns towards him, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her back is resting against the wooden interior of the small cabin. She outstretches her hand towards him in a silent invitation and her hearts leaps in relief when he almost too eagerly follows her lead and sits next to her onto the small bed.

She buries her face into the crook of his neck while his hand snakes around her shoulders in a familiar gesture and continues to draw small, soothing circles over the back of her head and neck. She exhales shakily, relishing in the intimate and rare moment the two are allowed to share alone.

"I missed you." She breathes and feels his hand still over the nape of her neck for the shortest of moments before it continues to caress her hair.

"To say I felt the same would be an understatement." He utters back. "What happened?" He asks again and this time, she knows he is referring to the operation.

"Nothing." She shakes her head quickly in denial, finally realizing his concern for her to be connected to events of the past few hours. "It went rather smoothly. I got to him, we chatted for a while, Roland copied the card and we got out."

"Did he make advances on you in any way?" His voice is neutral, although she knows the question was burning on his tongue.

"Yes," she confesses carefully, "but he didn't dare to step over the boundary of a public place." Again, she can feel his hand still over the nape of her neck.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I am fine." She sighs as she buries her face deeper into his chest, inhaling his scent. "I've survived worse."

For the third time in the past five minutes, his hand stills while caressing her hair. He can feel her smile against his shoulder.

"What?"

"We chatted about which Catholic boarding schools would be best for my children ."

"Catholic boarding schools? I bit of a cliché, don't you think?" he teases lightly and feels her grin spread. "Trust me, with these people, it's the safest topic." He doesn't reply further but she can feel the atmosphere in the small space around them shift significantly.

"I am sorry for using you as a bait." His voice is quiet and she can hear honest regret.

"It's ok. I volunteered. And we got what we wanted and nothing much of ordinary happened." She shrugs in the dark. "Every one of us brings some kind of sacrifice into this."

Sara feels his grip tighten around her and all of a sudden, she doesn't want to discuss today anymore. She raises her head, bringing her lips to his neck.

"Something is upsetting you though." He says quietly, not being fooled by her change of attitude for a second. She feels the frustration inside of her building and lets her head drop, her eyes close, while she still presses her head to his shoulder.

She can talk to him about this. He will understand, he won't judge. If he would, he wouldn't be here with her now.

"Sometimes…" she starts shakily, "…I have the feeling like I don't know who I am anymore… and I don't recognize myself at all." She can feel his grip tightening on her. "Earlier, when I snapped at Brad, I felt such rage built inside of me..." She almost chokes over her next words. "Michael, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to humiliate him and I succeeded and it felt good." Her voice is trembling with emotion, but his grip doesn't lessen and that is what's giving her the strength to continue.

"I often find myself so furious, angry and vicious, that when I look into the mirror, I don't recognize the person I see." She finally gives in and let's out a choked sob. "I am frightened by the fact that I am always so angry and I feel like I might loose control over myself and my actions. I'm scared that I changed so much without even noticing. I'm terrified that I don't know who I am anymore." She finishes desperately, her body shivering involuntarily.

She feels him shift in order to bring her closer, to embrace her more tightly, and she can feel his lips planting a series of desperate kisses over the top of her head.

"You are still the same wonderful, compassionate, generous, bright woman I fell in love with in Fox River. You will always be that woman." He whispers in a fierce voice, using all his strength to keep his own composure that starts to crumble under the pressure of her previous words. "You are a person who has lived through hell, who suffered losses, who has all the right to be angry and vengeful, but, you still shy away from it. You snapped at Bellick today because you felt threatened, vulnerable, exposed and you wanted somebody else to feel that way for a change."

She is silent, shell-shocked by the accuracy of his words, but he misinterprets her silence for disagreement and his inability to provide comfort for her makes him feel even more of a failure.

"I'm sorry. I should have thought of another plan, another way…"

"It was not the plan, Michael. It's me." Sara interrupts gently. "I changed so much that I don't know who I am anymore, and that scares me." She sounds so lost and desperate and truly scared and he simply has no words that would for sure bring her comfort.

"I love you. That much hasn't changed and never will. I wish I could tell you that everything will go back to where it all started when we get this done, but it won't. We all changed in a way, through our actions, or simply through what was done to us. But that doesn't make you a bad person, Sara. It makes you either more vulnerable, or stronger. And you are strong, Sara."

She doesn't say anything but merely shifts in her own spot, urging him closer into the embrace. "I love you too." The warm words she whispers into the hollow of his ear echo through his head. "That much hasn't changed for me, either." A bittersweet ache makes his chest tighten. He pulls her closer to him, pressing a kiss to her lips. As it deepens, everything around them starts to dissolve, the hard uncomfortable bunk, the boat, the warehouse, the mission. It's just them. It feels so right and for the shortest of moments, both feel whole, safe and in their own skin, again. They eventually pull apart.

"Can you stay?" She asks a bit desperately in a tone that tells him she already suspects his answer.

"Unfortunately no," he sighs. "I have to go back to look at the information Roland got from the guy's cell phone. Might be useful to get to the next cardholder." She nods in understanding, her disappointment palpable still.

"You can stay and get some rest." He tries, but already sees her shaking her head.

"Just give me five minutes to change into something else." She quips, looking down at her now crumpled dress. He nods with a small smile, then half-heartedly turns his back on her while she changes her clothes.

"Did Bellick really try to ask you out on a date?" Michael finally asks in a kind tone, trying to fill out the somewhat awkward silence.

"Yep." Sara answers at last, a small soft laugh escaping her lips. "The poor guy was so nervous and it was so awkward to turn him down right after he told me about the job opening at Fox River."

"He did?" Michael asks with interest.

"Did, what?" Asks Sara absentmindedly, pushing a sweater over her head.

"Tell you about a job opening at Fox River."

He can hear her smile as she answers. "Yeah. I would never have heard about the job at Fox River if it were not for him."

"I guess buying him flowers is in order, then." Michael says amusedly while waiting.

She must have changed by now for Michael can hear her approaching from behind, finally sneaking her hands around his neck. "Buying him flowers for hitting on me?" She asks playfully, kissing a spot right next to his earlobe and it's all he can do not to turn around and fully kiss her.

"No, not for that. But without him, the two of us probably wouldn't have met." He says softly, turning around to look at her at last, just at time to see her look soften. She doesn't answer but merely caresses his cheek with her fingers.

"Do we really have to go back there?" She mentions with her head in the direction of the warehouse's main working space where the rest of their team must be sitting right now.

Michael just sighs, nodding with reluctance, and she slumps her shoulders a little before she rises to her feet, offering her hand to help him stand up from the narrow bunk.

"You know…" she starts before they reach the bottom of the stairs that lead to her boat, "I was wondering about those flowers for Brad, and I think he would rather enjoy a gift card instead." She whispers mischievously and hears Michael chuckle lightly. It fills her insides with warm light.

END