Name: The price to pay

Characters: Michael/Sara

Genre: POV, het, non-epilogue-comliant

Rating: PG

Word count: approx. 750

Spoilers: S02E01-02

Summary: "There is a way to make all of this right", he's written her. He has to believe it, has to have faith, because hope, no matter how fleeting, is the only thing that's currently keeping him going.

The Price to Pay

She will be okay, he tells himself with fierce conviction. He knows she will feel used, misled and lied to. His heart lurches. But once she finds the crane, he tries to tell himself, once she finds the crane, she will know he hasn't been fooling her, will know it hasn't been all an act. She will know that he cared - that he still cares - far more than he could ever have allowed himself to or anticipated in the first place.

She will know, won't she?

He tells himself all these things while driving away in a car full of escaped convicts.

Right.

Gazing out the dirt-smeared window, Michael has a hard time convince himself of the truth behind his thought. How can he then expect her to believe it, when he himself has a hard time believing his own words? Glancing to the front of the car, it's only the sight of his brother, well and breathing and still alive, that gives his lurching heart at least some kind of consolation.

He had todo what he did, he had to ask her for help, there simply wasn't another way to break his brother free, to save his innocent life. But even knowing what he knows, it's a small comfort. He lied to her. On many occasions, that's without question, but the last lie went far deeper, and would cut too deep.

During their last heated conversation, he very conveniently omitted the fact he and Lincoln weren't breaking out alone. He misled Sara to believe she was breaking the rules to save the lives of an innocent person and his rescuer only. Instead, there were six more men on the loose as well, few of them extremely dangerous. One of them crazy, one the former head of the mob, but those were nothing in comparison to the worst of them all, T-bag.

How would that make her feel? He wasn't sure he really wanted to know and what kind of man that made him.

He left her the crane, hastily stuffed in the depths of her handbag he found in one of the infirmary drawers, hoping this to be the safest way for her to find it. No doubts she must have left her purse there accidentally when she left work in haste that day, probably too distraught and scared to break one of the most fundamental rules of her job to remember to take her purse with her.

All for him.

The thought is fleeting and involuntary, literally jumping into the focus of his wandering mind, nearly making his stomach flip with disgust over himself. To feel a flutter of happiness - of sick satisfaction - under such circumstances makes him a man he doesn't want to become.

She did it for Lincoln, he amends resolutely, his mind forcefully correcting the gentle whisper of his heart, of his desire.

She did it so an innocent man, who happens to be his brother, could live. What it will have cost her he doesn't want to think about right now. It would be too time consuming, too painful, and would claim too much of his attention and input he now has to direct to the matter at hand, their escape. They're nowhere near making it just yet, in fact, Michael knows they will call themselves lucky if they survive another twenty four hours but still, Michael cannot stop but wonder.

Will she come?

"There is a way to make all of this right", he's written her. He has to believe it, has to have faith, because hope, no matter how fleeting, is the only thing that's currently keeping him going.

Hope, but also something more elusive, more tangible, more rich. Something that is interconnecting his mind and heart and soul all into a single, bittersweet and aching mess. Something that he knows is strongly connected to the smell of antiseptic and the sting of a sharp against his skin, to a white lab coat that's hiding graceful and soft curves, a gentle touch of warm, soothing fingers and a cascade of the softest copper hair. Something that has him yearning and longing in a way he never thought possible.

And something Michael's afraid he's already lost, traded for his brother's freedom. It was the right thing to do, to save Lincoln, Michael is sure of that. Yet it doesn't stop the hollow feeling spreading throughout his chest, the black hole growing bigger with every mile the car takes him away from her.

~~**o**~~