H E A L I N G O V E R N I G H T

Author: Liza C. Title: Healing Overnight Go to: M/S Index Back to: Chapter 5                                      Chapter 6 Michael let his eyes linger on her a moment before turning back to the dark night.  Since telling her what he was really thinking about would require him laying all his cards on the table, he merely responded to her question with a simple, "Hey." She took a few steps and came to stand next to him. "It's going to be cold tonight." "Yeah." He allowed himself a sidelong glance at her, "How's Lincoln doing?" "Same.  Veronica's in with him."   She felt an involuntary shiver shoot through her, she wasn't sure if it was from the chilly night air or from being around Michael.  Finally, she asked the question that had been circling the air around them all evening. "What are you going to do next, Michael?" Michael didn't flinch, he also didn't answer. "It's just that I wouldn't recommend trying to travel with Lincoln for at least a couple of days.  He needs to heal; too much movement and he could start bleeding internally again." Michael met her eye for a brief moment and then turned back towards the darkened night. "Right." Sara sighed softly. "You're not going to tell me." "The less you know the better." "I'm sure that's what you think, but Lincoln's my patient. I'd like to know that what we did tonight is not going to be undone tomorrow by jumping off another train." "There's no train jumping on the agenda." "You can trust me, Michael." His mouth curved into a very small, but real smile. However, he still made no move to confide in her.  He did trust her, but he could think of nothing more dangerous for her than if she knew too much. The less she knew of his plans, the better for her own safety. "Is it…" Sara began, but her voice faltered.   Michael noticed the catch in her voice and looked towards her.   "What?" "I… I'm sure it's occurred to you that my father may have something to do with everything that's happened to Lincoln." Now Michael turned full towards her.  "We don't know that, Sara." "He's unexpectedly being considered for Vice President.  Why would Reynolds consider him, if he wasn't in her pocket?" "I don't know." "The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach." Involuntarily she swiped at a tear that was threatening at the corner of her eye.  "I'm so sorry-" "Sara-" "No, Michael, if my father had something to do with framing Lincoln, then I don't even know where to start." A pang of guilt sliced right through his heart, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel responsible for any of this.  He placed his hands on her upper arms and gave her a gentle squeeze until she looked up at him. "First off, we already made an agreement not to judge each other by our father's sins.  And second please don't apologize to me. You're the last person on earth who should ever apologize to me." She was shaking her head as she dropped her line of vision to the dirt beneath their feet. The idea of what her father may have done had been niggling the corners of her mind all evening, just the prospect horrified her to such an extent she couldn't see beyond it.   But moments later, she felt two fingers under her chin, lifting it gently.  When she finally met his eyes, she realized they were as watery as her own.   Michael took a deep breath as he felt his stomach somersault; there was no artifice left between them, at that moment he felt as if he could see into her soul.  With one hand he reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb as he tried to swallow the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. "Sara, I am sorry.  I should tell you that I wish you'd never worked at the prison, that you'd never been involved.  But there is a selfish part of me that is so very grateful that I met you.  So very grateful that you were there, you have no idea how much just seeing you every day helped me.  But, damn, I am so sorry I hurt you." The emotion rung clearly from his usually inscrutable voice and though her vision was slightly blurry, she could see the honesty in his eyes.  Just the way he was looking at her made her heart clench and her insides warm.  She dearly wanted to accept his apology; however, it was what happened after forgiving him that still terrified her.  What was next? But before Sara could muster a response they were interrupted by Veronica coming to stand in the door to the cabin.  "Hey guys?"   They both tore their eyes from the other to attend Veronica. Sara took the opportunity to try and surreptitiously wipe her eyes; in truth she was actually grateful for the reprieve from the emotionally charged moment.   Veronica glanced between the two of them and belatedly realized she'd managed to interrupt a private moment. "Sorry, it can wait," she waved and turned back into the cabin. Once alone, the quiet settled around them like a thick blanket. Sara had no idea what to say.  "It's cold, we should go back inside." "Yeah," he nodded once in slightly deflated agreement.   *** Once they joined Veronica inside, she apologized and explained that there weren't many blankets in the cabin.  It was quickly determined that the blankets should all go in the bedroom with Lincoln since it was most important that he stay warm and there was no fireplace in there.  Sara and Michael both claimed they would be fine, besides there was still a fire burning in the small stove.   As they got ready to turn in, neither Michael nor Sara brought up anything of substance, which in turn led them to being overly polite to one another.  There was a mild verbal scuffle over who would really take the couch, but finally Michael put his foot down and insisted she take it. A half hour later, Sara lay on the couch trying to sleep.  But sleep was entirely beyond her grasp. She was wearing jeans and the hooded sweatshirt she'd worn to break into the medical center, yet she was still chilly in the old cabin.  The night had gotten progressively colder and she was more than a little worried about her patient.  But she was certain Veronica was in the bedroom watching him like a hawk and would come get her if there was any change. Since there was nothing she could do for Lincoln's comfort, she switched her attention to his brother.  He was sitting almost fully upright, his arms crossed in front of him, eyes closed.  She didn't think he was asleep, but she wasn't positive.  She took a few minutes to really study his profile.  Just looking at him so at peace sent a flutter through her stomach and she was struck by how handsome he was. At least he was so good looking that if she got caught actively helping him, no woman in American would blame her for falling for him.  That superficial thought struck her as inordinately funny under the circumstances and she let out a soft, involuntary giggle. "What's so funny?"  Michael asked without moving. Apparently he wasn't asleep. However, she was unwilling to disclose her real train of thought. "You look really uncomfortable." "I've been in a prison or on the run for seven weeks," Michael replied instantly, but without opening his eyes. "I know Fox River wasn't the Drake, but you at least had a bed." "True, but I was never comfortable there." He opened his eyes and looked over at her in the near darkness.  "But I'm sorry that you have to stay in these less than… Drake-like conditions." Sara emitted a soft chuckle. "I was known to go camping when I was younger. I can handle it." "Your dad took you camping?" Michael asked without thinking. Sara frowned, the look marring her usually beautiful face. "I'm sorry," Michael winced as he realized what he'd said. "I really didn't mean to bring up your dad." "It's… it's okay.  Actually, no, he didn't take me camping.  When I was 11 or 12 I used to go with a friend's family.  I never did much with my father, he was always busy." "At least you've met your father."  Michael shifted in his seat, made more uncomfortable by the topic than the chair. "You never even met your father?" Michael shook his head. "That's why my last name is Scofield, my mother's maiden name." "You said he was an alcoholic?" Sara asked in a small voice. Even though she didn't want to draw comparisons to herself by bringing up the addiction, her curiosity won out. "Maybe not." "What do you mean?" Michael blew out a breath he'd been holding.  "Apparently, he wasn't the drunken deadbeat we thought he was.  He was just a regular deadbeat.  He's wrapped up in all of this… this conspiracy… pretty deep.  I guess he's the reason they targeted Lincoln in the first place. If I had to wager, he's in much deeper than your father… if that makes you feel any better." Sara stared at him across the dim room, before letting her head rest back on the throw pillow.  "Maybe we're both destined to pay for our father's mistakes." Michael didn't reply, the possible truth of the statement was too staggering and there was nothing either one could do about it currently. Instead he sat up straight and wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed his arms. "It's downright cold in here, now." Sara, still not remotely tired, pushed herself to an upright position as well.  "Yeah, that stove doesn't help much; I'd hate to be here in winter."  She paused for a second and looked at him thoughtfully. "Come over here, I have an idea." "Really?"  If it hadn't of been so dark, Sara would have seen his eyebrow cock curiously at her. "Yes," she replied as she waved him over. Michael's heartbeat picked up a little speed as he wondered what she had in store for him.   When he sat next to her on the couch, she turned to him and ordered, "Take off your shirt." "My shirt?" His voice hit a slightly higher register than usual.  That command was the last thing he was expecting. "Yes." "How is that supposed to help if I'm cold?" "It's not." He smirked slightly. "Then you just want me naked?" "Neither of us can sleep so we might as well do something productive. I want to check your burn.  In fact take off your sock and I'll check your foot as well." "Right, doctor mode." He sounded slightly disappointed.  "You don't need…"  He trailed off at the look she was giving him.   Sure enough a few seconds later she was examining his foot.  "Have you had much pain?" He didn't answer. She brought her gaze up to question him directly. "Michael…" "We're on the run.  By definition there's been a lot of running." "And jumping off of trains…" She muttered under her breath. "I would imagine that none of that feels good on this foot." "It doesn't add to my speed either," he added in a sardonic tone. She snorted softly as she rewrapped his foot.  After he pulled his sock back on she gave him the up motion that signaled he should take off his shirt.  Reluctantly, he complied and pulled the sweatshirt over his head.  Sara moved off of the couch so he could lay face down, but felt a very undoctor-like tingle as she watched him move-- partially-disrobed-- in front of her.  She'd tended to him without his shirt on numerous times, but somehow in this cabin, at night, under the circumstances it felt more crushingly intimate than ever before. Tenderly, she looked at the area and murmured, "Not bad… wish you'd kept it bandaged and dressed, though."  After she was done inspecting the injured area, she couldn’t help herself.  Her eyes traveled down the slope of his back.  The images suddenly ran together like they did indeed made sense, there really was a pattern there. But a pattern she couldn't quite grasp.  Without thinking she trailed the fingers of one hand down his back, lightly tracing the lines on his skin.   Michael let out a small laugh into the cushion of the couch. "What?" "I thought you were inviting me over here to share the couch for warmth, when in reality I'm now twice as cold without my shirt on, not to mention your cold hands." "Oh sorry."  Sara's hand flew from where it had been on his back to her mouth and she moved over so he could sit up next to her.  "It's… it's just that it's the first time I've looked at it knowing what it is." Now that Michael was sitting upright next to her on the couch, he pulled his sweatshirt back on over his head. "You designed it all yourself?" Instead of answering, he merely nodded in the affirmative. "You're an artist." "Not really," he replied automatically. "Yeah, you are… it's amazing.  But I couldn't see… them." "See what?" he glanced over at her. "The blueprints." "Oh… well, I'll show you them someday when…" he paused when he realized what he was saying and reminded himself she was leaving in just a few hours.  He felt a bit sick at that thought. "…we have some light and it's not so cold."  He knew it was possible that he would never see her again, but part of him was testing the waters with her of 'someday.' However, the test proved inconclusive as she didn't respond to the possibility of a future meeting between them. Instead she turned to him with an amused quirk of her brow.  "You thought I was going to ask you to share the couch with me?" The corners of his lips tugged upwards. "For a second." She gave him a questioning sideways glance from her position next to him. "It's cold in here. Weren't you cold?" he explained hastily, but with a knowing smirk. "Yes…" "Body heat." Without giving hard thought to his actions he acted by instinct, by what seemed natural. And it felt natural to him to slid one arm behind her so he could put a hand on either of her upper arms.  Briskly he rubbed up and down and the motion made her giggle slightly. "You're very forward for a guy I just met."  But she still leaned back against the couch and allowed him to pull her against his side, his arm still around her. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but it felt good to be sitting so close to him. "We didn't just meet," Michael replied a tad breathlessly as Sara's proximity affected him more than he'd anticipated it would. "No, I'm pretty sure I really just met you tonight." She turned to look at him. It was slightly unsettling to her as they were at incredibly close range. "I promise you, you're not just meeting me tonight."  His eyes drilled through her intently as he willed her to believe he hadn't always been acting with her. Then a twinkle took the place of the seriousness.  "Besides, I don't like to think of it as forward, I like to think of it as chivalry." It took her a second to find her voice after the look he'd given her.   She cleared her throat before she replied, "I see, so you're over here on this couch saving me from the cold?" TBC…

Go to:  Chapter 7 Feedback is appreciated!