Name: Paternal Care
Characters: Michael Scofield/Sara Tancredi, mentions of Michael Jr.
Genre: Non-Epilogue Compliant, het, angst, hurt/comfort
Word count: approx. 2200 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A belated (very belated) Bday fic for Skybelpb . Happy Birthday again, Jules! :)
She thought that at this point of her life - and particularly her relationship with Michael - she was prepared for anything. Once again, Michael has proven her otherwise. In fact, Sara is so shocked at the topic of Michael's little 'research' that it takes her a full minute to actually stop skimming through the article she didn't realize she even started reading.

A/N: Ashley, I love you, but you already know that, don't you? ;) Oh and hunny, regarding the medical article issue, it got so confusing in the end, lol, that I went for my original plan, Wikipedia. I know it's lame, but hey, I am a lame girl, right? ;) Besides, you can truly google it, how cool is that?! ;)))) And a professor of mine always says, that whatever people say, Wikipedia is the best place to start a research, for it has wonderful and 90 percent truthful and extremely useful links. ;) Just saying…

Paternal Care

The guys who fear becoming fathers don't understand that fathering is not something perfect men do, but something that perfects the man. The end product of child raising is not the child but the parent.

~Frank Pittman, Man Enough~

~oOo~

Sara smiles to herself as she stands in the open doorway observing her husband with his brow furrowed in concentration and his back hunched over the computer screen. Taking a rather long nap, she now feels more rested than she has in days.

She steps quietly into the room, her bare feet tapping ever so slightly at the wooden floors of their home. The curtains are quietly flapping against the open French doors and the breeze caresses her warm skin on her path to the man she loves.

Even with his keen observation skills, he still hasn't noticed her yet. His thoughts and eyes seem to be directed solely on the online article he is reading. A small mischievous smile escapes her lips just before she reaches his chair and her arms come around him from behind, encircling his shoulders as she closes the remaining gap between their bodies. He jumps at her touch, but calms immediately upon the soft shushing sound against his ear. She is drawing soothing patterns against his shoulders, her face coming to rest against his neck, kissing it gently, her smile still dancing upon her face when her lips make contact with his skin.

"Jumpy," she observes, continuing to kiss his neck lovingly. "Doing something naughty?" she lightly jokes but suddenly feels him stiffen at her words. As she raises her head to look at the screen, she only has time to see Michael's slender fingers moving quickly in haste to lower the screen of the laptop, efficiently preventing her from seeing what he was reading about. She frowns slightly, turning her head to look properly into his face for the very first time. He looks uncomfortable, nervous even, like an unruly child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"So what were you looking at? Pictures of some beautiful ladies who can't afford to buy any clothes whatsoever?" she continues to tease him lightly. Her voice is still amused and quiet, her nose coming to nuzzle his neck. But then she feels his distress growing even more and she cannot help but start to feel a little uneasy herself.

She hears him clear his voice hoarsely. "Nothing important," he utters shrugging, but she knows better.

"If it's nothing important," she says playfully, an amused lilt still coloring her voice, "I can certainly take a look then, can't I?" Before she even finishes her sentence, she manages to outstretch her hand from behind him to the laptop, lifting the screen so she can get a proper view at the screen. She can feel dread and panic rip through Michael, trying to stop her, but before he has a chance to close the screen once again, it's already too late.

Her own breath hitches in her throat at the headline of the Wikipedia article.

MATERNAL DEATH

She is frozen to her spot, her mind momentarily exploding with her thoughts being scattered all around the place. It takes her a long moment to even start collecting them back again.

She thought that at this point of her life - and particularly her relationship with Michael - she was prepared for anything. Once again, Michael has proven her otherwise. In fact, Sara is so shocked at the topic of Michael's little 'research' that it takes her a full minute to actually stop skimming through the article she didn't realize she even started reading.

Maternal death, or maternal mortality, also "obstetrical death" is the death of a woman during or shortly after a pregnancy.

Before she can help it, she feels her chest tighten, her stomach reel. Her eyes glass over on their own volition, while a tight lump starts to form in her throat. It takes her a few, agonizingly long seconds to recover from the initial shock before she is even able to concentrate on her crestfallen husband, his slumped posture screaming despair and shame at her discovery. He has turned his head away from her now, and his eyes are silently staring out at the ocean through the open French doors.

For the millionth time she tries to access him - his mood, his fears, his state of mind. Yet she fails completely in her task. She has absolutely no idea what triggered his need to seek out this particular kind of information, but she knows there is always a reason – one more valid or grave than the other - for Michael to feel so cornered that he finds the need to take desperate precautions in order to ensure their safety. And yet, she is at a loss this time. There's been no complication in her pregnancy, not even a single one, as well as there was no danger to their new life whatsoever.

Suddenly, she notices his shoulders tremble just the slightest bit and her heart painfully flutters in her chest, her arms squeezing his frame tightly from behind. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, giving him a generous amount of time but not a single inch of space while he collects his thoughts and faces his fears.

She tells him she loves him, pressing a kiss against his shoulder every now and then. Her heart aches for the man who hates to show any weakness, a man who considers himself a burden still, especially in times like these, when it's him who is in need, him who seeks comfort rather than being the one to grant it.

"I'm…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…I shouldn't even consider something like that might happen…" he chokes, his voice weak and full of remorse. Instantly, her embrace tightens.

"Talk to me about it and you are forgiven," she murmurs and there is no command or demand in her tone. It's merely a plea.

Just at this very moment, their baby decides to make themselves known, kicking hard against Sara's stomach. She lets an involuntary gasp of pain, yet cannot help but chuckle lightly.

"I think somebody feels a little neglected."

She feels strangely triumphant, proud even, when she feels Michael relax just the tiniest bit. He still doesn't turn, but his hands grope behind his back until they reach her rounded belly, gently caressing her strained skin.

"Sorry baby," he utters at last, a barely audible amusement in his voice.

They sit like that for a couple of minutes longer. The atmosphere has shifted a little, a feeling of quiet understanding and calm passing between them without words. In the end, it's Michael who breaks the silence, knowing she needs to hear an answer almost as desperately as he is to conceal it.

"I just…I had this dream last night. About you, about the baby." He stops only to feel her embrace tighten even more, if possible. It gives him the very much needed strength to continue.

"I am just so scared that with my bad luck…" he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. Taking a shuddering breath, he wills himself to continue. "Sooner or later, everything -- everyone most dear and close to my heart is always being taken away from me. I cannot bear the thought of losing you, again."

She cannot help but kiss the side of his neck in despair, her own eyes moist, the renewed lump in her throat effectively gagging her, forbidding her from granting any kind of verbal comfort. Another few moments pass before he continues, his words strangled, pained.

"I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you or the baby."

Strangely, it's this statement that untangles her tongue, unlocks her lips.

"Nothing is going to happen to me or our baby," she proclaims resolutely, her voice leaving her lungs in one quick rush. She can tell he is not convinced, not one bit, but it serves merely to fortify her belief. She tries another approach, her voice more gentle, more soothing this time. "I am healthy Michael. We are both healthy, me and the baby, and there is no reason for you to fret something might go wrong…"

"There is always a reason," he interrupts maybe too sharply, but at least, he turns around, finally looking at her. His grief-stricken crystal eyes say it all. A painful sigh leaves her lips before she brings her hands around his neck, drawing him closer. She knows she is losing this particular battle, and all of a sudden, she is too tired to continue. She folds in defeat, but she does so with love and grace.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asks, hoping there is at least a single thing, anything really, she can do to make him feel at least the tiniest bit from outward miserable. If coincidentally or in outward deliberation Sara doesn't know, but it's this precise moment their baby decides to make themselves known again, kicking against his mother's belly hard. Sara smiles anew, rectifying her statement when her hands automatically come to rest upon her stomach in a light, loving caress. "Is there anything we can do?"

This eludes the tiniest of smiles even from Michael. His hands once again come up to rest against her belly, drawing soothing patterns over the stretched piece of skin. All of a sudden however, this mere touch is not nearly enough for Michael. He bends over, bringing his head down to press a lingering kiss to Sara's swollen abdomen.

"I love you both, you know that, right?" he whispers against her belly, his soft breath sending goose bumps rising against her skin.

"Yes, we do. And now," she says her last words with false bravado, despite all her insides wildly fluttering in her chest, "lets close this," she shuts the computer off, the internet page immediately fading into the blackness of the screen, "and go have a little swing in our hammock. I want to use it as much as possible before I'm too large for it to fit the both of us."

A soft chuckle leaves Michaels lips, but before she can rise to her feet, he draws her frame close again, as if in an attempt to hide her in his embrace as much as humanly possible. With a tight squeeze in her chest, it seems to Sara like he's trying to shield her, them, against the horrors of this world.

"Tell me about your dream," she propones carefully, feeling him shake his head against her shoulder even before her sentence is finished. She sighs in disappointment, but then his hands are on her face, stroking her cheeks and neck, before gliding over her crown and through the soft tresses of liquid copper.

"It was just a dream," he says reassured, and this time, she believes he truly means it. A small smile steals its way to her face.

"That's my man," she grins, tugging him closer by the collar until their lips touch in a light caress. Again, their baby chooses that moment to kick, causing Michael's own grin to spread.

"That's my girls," he says smugly, cupping Sara's belly in both hands, his eyes never leaving Sara's, a soft smile dancing over his lips.

"Oh, so it's a girl today?" she asks, her tone amused, eyebrows raised.

"Girl, boy, whatever. As long as you and the baby are healthy, the sex doesn't matter," he says, watching a strange, glowing glint invading Sara's eyes.

"Oh Mr. Scofield, trust me, the sex does matter!"

She watches Michael's look change, his eyebrows rise. His cheeks turn crimson and she knows with a feeling of satisfaction she caught him off-guard and threw him off of his balance. She is more than pleased and a little bit smug with herself at his reaction. He is trying to mask his surprise, of course, but to no avail. At last, a challenging smile forms on his lips. "Oh, so you say the hen existed before the egg, then?"

"Are you turning this into a philosophical debate, Michael?" she dares, pressing her chest against his, subtly pressing and rubbing against him, getting him exactly where she wants him. He doesn't protest in the least bit.

"God help me, no! I would never start a debate with a pregnant woman," he says, grinning.

"How about a physical match, then?" she pushes anew, joining her hands behind his neck. She is a bit clumsy in her attempts on a sexy, seductive behavior, for her swollen belly prevents her from properly gluing her frame against his own. His smile merely grows at her unsuccessful, ungraceful attempts, the tiny trace of frustration furrowing her brow making her more sexy than humanly possible. The remnants of the darkness dissipate completely from his posture as well as mind the moment his lips touch hers again.

"I am sure we will be able to reach a draw," he whispers against her lips, his words hitting her face in a gentle, warm puff of air. She joins their faces again, eager and enthusiastic.

"The game's on!"

~oOo~