I dedicate this little fic to mavoisine as an early birthday present. Hope you'll like it sweetie! *squishes you tight*

"Dread and excruciating heartache gripped his insides at the look in front of him. Sara's back turned towards him, she didn't notice his approach at all."

Title: Guarantees

Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, (little bit of Sucre, Lincoln and Mahone)

Pairing: Michael/Sara
Rating: R (for some language)
Genre: romance, het, angst (lots of angst)
Spoilers (!!!): 4x12 - Selfless
Word Count: approx. 2500
Summary: My take on Sara's possible reaction to the news at the end of 4x12. I know we won't get to see something like this on canon, however, I do believe that the enormous pressure on Sara in this season would show eventually, and it would be with enormous force.

Warnings: A/N: Hasn't been betaed, so feel free to let me know if I did some heinous mistakes.

Guarantees

Self...

That one word was echoing loudly in his head, repeating over and over again. How could he be so stupid and trust so easily after everything they've been through? Why on earth didn't he check the papers before they let that cocky bastard leave?

Michael's head is throbbing, pounding painfully in unison with his heartbeat, but he doesn't care. He failed. He failed them all. He guaranteed safety and freedom once the job was done and they all truly made it happen, yet at the end of the tunnel, there was no light, and definitely no safety or freedom he could guarantee.

Out of the corner of his tired mind, he heard Lincoln's fist colliding with the white board they've used numerous times during their brainstorming sessions, knocking it over. Alex was sitting at the table, mumbling away something incoherent under his breath, whereas Sucre was standing at the dirty window shield, hissing in Spanish all insults known to mankind.

Michael sighed, bringing his hands to his head, the pain more urgent and intense than ever before.

He failed.

Through a veil of fog clouding his mind, he could hear Sara excusing herself from the table. He wanted to stop her, reach out to her, but he had no power to do so. He pressed his long fingers against his scull, trying to control the pain and directing it somewhere – anywhere - else. He needed to think, he needed to focus, for surely, somebody would come for them really soon and it wouldn't be pretty.

His head turned instinctively on its own accord however, his mind subconsciously following the woman that left the table moments before. Even through his clouded mind, he watched her retreating back, the shuffling of her feet and her slumped shoulders clear evidence of her misery. And despite everything that was going on in his feverishly working mind right now, he couldn't help but notice there was something about her cramped movements that was rather pathological and highly unsettling. His concern only increased when she walked passed her boat and instead went straight for the exit of the warehouse.

Michael run his fingers over his scalp, a feeling of utter 'wrong' creeping up his chest, spreading a cold chilling sensation over his insides that felt far worse than any headache ever could. Without any further thought, Michael raised from his seat at the table, his legs carrying him out of the warehouse following in Sara's tracks on their own accord.

"Hey Pappi, where are you going?" called Sucre, who was the first one to notice his departure.

"Out." His answer cut short, he didn't even turn around.

"We don't have time for this, Michael!" shouted Lincoln, trying to reason with his brother. Something about the statement made Michael incredibly agitated and he turned on his spot, snapping.

"We never have time for anything, Linc! I am sick of it! Just for once, try to come up with a solution yourself! Or - for Christ's sake - give me at least five fucking minutes, will you all?!"

He didn't mean for his statement to sound the way it did, but he couldn't tell he was regretting it either. He was sick - physically as well as mentally - and he was tired of the rush and the pace things were going, as well as the whole fucking conspiracy and all of it. And though his brain screamed at him to return back and quickly find a solution – Pronto, please! – for once he chose otherwise, his heart claiming five stolen minutes from a remaining time that long ago passed.

He burst the backdoor of the warehouse open, partly expecting to find Sara's slender figure bend over or pacing around one of the dock pillars.

However, she wasn't there. A slight trace of alarm has risen in his chest, his eyes scanning the area frantically for any sights of her.

He walked further into the docks, his ears catching a silent yet suspicious sound that somehow didn't fit in with the usual dockside life. He quickened his pace, a grim hunch urging his legs to go faster with every new 'bang' that could be heard from somewhere in front of him. The sound was growing louder with each step her took, but the sight that met his eyes when he rounded the last corner made him stop dead in his tracks.

Dread and excruciating heartache gripped his insides at the look in front of him. Sara's back turned towards him, she didn't notice his approach at all. Her hand tightly squeezing a huge metal pipe, she was smashing and destroying whatever came into her reach. She was full of uncontrolled rage, literally playing havoc to a side of a small tool shed.

Again and again, she raised the pipe and smashed onto the pile of now completely destroyed objects, and although the sight made his insides twitch with the urge to close the distance at once and make her stop, Michael was frozen to his spot, paralyzed with horror and fear. He has never seen her loose her temper and self-control like that; ever.

Fury was raging through her body in powerful waves and Michael couldn't do anything but helplessly watch the tragedy unfold right in front of his eyes.

A minute later, everything was over. Sara seemed to run out of energy, stumbling at the spot panting hard, the pipe finally falling to the ground with a distinctive metal cling. Without any warning, Michael watched in horror as her legs broke underneath her, sending her slender figure fall painfully onto the hard ground. What was left of her previous fury disappeared, transforming into a pile of thrash at her feet. What was left was a broken, sobbing crock that clutching her mouth in both hands, preventing her to cry out with woe.

If Michael was shell-shocked before, this sight made his heart shatter into little pieces of sharp glass, painfully stabbing and digging into his insights.

He saw her cry on three occasions so far. One was of regret when she told him she couldn't wait for him, second was of fear and guilt after she shot a man trying to kill his brother, third was of sorrow and painful recollections when she showed him her scars.

This was completely different, however. This wasn't merely crying of grief, this was a full-blown-breakdown of a person whom Michael loved unconditionally.

Slowly, Michael made his way towards Sara, taking cautious step after step, until he was less then a few feet away. She was still sobbing violently, her pained moans and laments tearing Michael's heart into shreds all over again. She didn't notice him at all, she appeared to be too lost in her own inner world.

Michael was now only inches away, suddenly not sure what to do, how to approach her. He let the nature lead his course, allowing his own legs slowly breaking underneath him, bringing his slightly shaking hands to hug her from behind in the same gesture she made only an hour ago.

He knew he would startle her, yet it still made him wince when her shoulders jerked, her frame freezing in spot.

"It's me." whispered Michael hurriedly into her ear, as gently and reassuringly as he could. She was still frozen with shock, yet he could feel some of the fright tension leave her body.

"I didn't mean to scare you..." his voice carried quietly to her ear. "…but I didn't know how to approach you…" his tone was begging with her to understand what he felt yet his voice couldn't express. Her stiffness didn't lessen, her sobs stopping abruptly the very moment he touched her. She was panting slightly, but she didn't turn her head to look at him. Michael could tell she was terrified at the thought of him finding her here, like this, and he hated the invisible barrier of protectiveness for one another more than ever before.

"How long…" Sara choked out, her words barely over a whisper.

"Long enough to recognize you weren't ok at all, so please, don't lie to me." He choked the words out, his own voice trembling with emotion.

He couldn't help the sudden urge and kissed the side of her neck tenderly, then let his head drop to rest in the crook of her neck, his upper body firmly pressed against her back. His heart leaped with bittersweet joy when he felt Sara covering his hands crossed over her stomach with her own.

They stayed like that for a couple of moments, the only sounds the croaking of seagulls and their own hearts thumping against each others chest.

"You weren't supposed…" she started quietly, but he squeezed her tighter against him, shushing into her ear in a begging whimper.

"Please Sara, just for once, don't be concerned about my well-being and instead let me in. Please." Pleading against her neck, he felt her face and body finally starting to turn towards him. She stopped halfway, leaning her side against him, neither turning fully against him, yet nor staying with her back turned to him. It was more than he could ask for.

A heavy sight left her lungs as she squeezed her eyes taking a few deep breaths.

"There is no time for this Mi…"

"Stop." the command was quiet, yet firm. "I am sick of time. There is time once we decide to make it, and I just took that decision because we need to stop for a moment to catch our breath." Then, in a more tender voice, he added. "Don't escape me like this again, ok?"

Despite her tightly squeezed eyes, a number of big fat tears squeezed through the pressed eyelids, rolling down her cheeks. He guided his hand upwards, running it through the top of her crown and down to her neck, stroking it lightly, affectionately.

"I love you." He said and her face contorted into a painful grimace when she leaned heavily against his chest, burying her face into his shirt.

"Tell me what's wrong." He pressed ever so slightly. Of course, he knew everything was more than wrong and screwed up at this point, but that was not what he was asking her and she knew. She took a few hasty, controlled breaths, then with her face still buried in his shirt

choked the words out of her in a muffled voice.

"I cannot lose you Michael…I simply…can't! I wouldn't survive it. I've tried, I've prayed, I've made sacrifices and pulled through everything that was thrown my way, our way, but it doesn't matter, because it still comes down to nothing!"

Her shoulders were trembling with sobs again and he hugged her tighter and pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

"We will figure it out…somehow." he started and gently tried to still her arguing headshakes with his palm. "We will!" He pressed. "And I swear to God, I will do anything, anything, in my might to sort out this mess. And then we go straight to the first hospital in sight, seeking treatment," he could feel her stiff against him, but he elaborated further, "and I don't know how yet, but I will make that stupid brain of mine work properly again. I promise to do everything I can make it happen."

"That's not enough." She whispered quietly, her tone making him understand she wanted – needed – more guarantees, and even if he couldn't give those, she would still claim them from the universe.

"It's enough. At least for keeping up my faith. You are enough to keep my faith Sara." He whispered into her hair, planting a soft kiss on top of her crown.

Steps could be heard from the distance echoing through the deserted docks, three sets of feet actually, and Michael knew that his five minutes were long ago up. Still, he refused to let go. He brought his lips to her ear once again, whispering in a fierce tone.

"Now; we will stand up, together, and we will walk away from here. We will leave this place and find a temporary hideout to plan our next move, alright?" Sara still didn't move and the loud sounds of thumping feet could be heard approaching rather quickly. Their time was definitely up.

One step at a time Sara," he pleaded, "that's all I'm asking."

At last, Michael felt her head nod lightly against him and he gently grasped her forearms, bringing her up with him into a standing position, steadying her wobbly stance against him. He brought his hands to her face, guiding it slowly up to look at him.

"Are you ok?" His voice raspy, he carefully searched her eyes. She gave a series of small nods, then wiped the remaining tears staining her face off, giving a small cough. Michael smiled down at her, his eyes offering strength he knew he didn't posses.

Sara nodded again. "Ok." She sniffed, her voice hoarse and unsteady, yet quickly recovering.

At that exact moment, the trio of their companions appeared from behind a corner, duffle bags in their hands.

"We need to go. It's too dangerous to stick around for any longer." grumbled Lincoln, shoving a backpack into Michael hands.

"I packed your stuff."

Sucre stepped to a slightly startled Sara, handing her another duffle bag. "I…I packed your stuff, Doc." He was fidgeting in his spot. "I hope you don't mind….personal belonging and privacy and such…" She barely shook her head, still a bit staggered.

An unsettling thought occurred to her however.

"Wait! I need to return for something…" Before she could speak any further, Alex held up the medical bag Self procured for them a few days ago.

"Looking for this? It's all in there, I checked." said Alex, giving Sara a small smile. She was too overwhelmed by gratitude to thank him and her eyes shied away from the lot of them. All of a sudden, Sara was painfully aware of her still puffy, reddened eyes and her broken appearance. None of the guys seemed to notice, and even if they did, they certainly didn't comment on it, and Sara found herself being unimaginably grateful for that.

"Let's get out of here." Said Lincoln gruffly, and the three man turned back, making their way towards the already prepared cars. Using the very last seconds of privacy at their disposal, Michael used this moment to brush his hand against Sara, entwining their fingers together. He gave it a light squeeze and his heart leaped with joy and relief when he felt her squeeze back tightly.

They were going to be okay. They needed to be ok. But before they could cross that particular river, they needed to do some things first. One step at a time. That's all it took.

One step at a time.

XXX

Would love to hear your thoughts. :)