Sara stands in the middle of the doorway, hovering as though afraid of what she’ll find. Stepping into the cell slightly, she turns to the guard, “would you wait outside please”, and the steel door closes behind her.
“Michael?” She says watching him.
He’s unresponsive and her heart plunges. It takes everything she has not to lose control; not to run to his side and envelope him in her arms, but she can’t, and she doesn’t. Her reserve remains intact; she’s a professional to the core.
She shifts her bag lightly to the ground, and crouches beside him. She smells his sweat, his tears and as a lump begins to form in her throat she reaches gingerly for his arm. “Okay, you’re going to feel my fingers on your wrist.”
As she feels his pulse beating beneath the skin, she sees the red drawn on the hard, cold wall and the realization that it’s blood, his blood, is enough to make her stomach turn, and she’s suddenly terrified.
“Come on, I need your eyes.” She says to him flashing the light across his face. As her hand cups his chin, she feels the beginning of stubble growing and is reminded, although fleetingly, how much she craves this man. She closes her eyes and runs her hand softly up and down his cheek. “Michael? Look at me.”
He can’t.
She opens her eyes and takes his hand, analyzing the wounds, and suddenly she feels him lean into her, resting his head on the inside of her knee.
“You’re going to be okay.” She says to him rubbing his back in circles. “You’re going to be okay.”
She’s choking back tears now, giving in to the need and the want for him. Her caress is tentative at first, but then as passion overrides control, she’s pulling him into her and holding him in her arms.
She stops caring about who and where they are. The door is shut, they’re finally alone, and she’ll do anything at this point to bring him back to her.
“Michael. Don’t do this. Michael.” Her tears darken the grey of his shirt as she holds him and cries. “I need you Michael. I need you, please.”
Story Notes:
I've used some dialogue from the episode. Anything you recognize is theirs, anything you don't, is mine.