Fic...
Title: Tracks
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Spoilers: Kinda AU so nothing specific
Rating: PG
Summary: "He looks down at her, into her eyes, and he sees past the nice dress, the perfect hair, right down into the broken remains of who she used to be."
~*~
He watches from a distance. He hasn’t spoken to her since the day they had separated back in Chicago. Every day he’s thought about speaking to her, asking her to come back, wanting to tell her he’d left for her own good, but he knows that will do him no good. He’s betrayed her before and regained her trust once, it wasn’t going to happen again.
Even Sara Tancredi wasn’t that forgiving.
He watches as she smiles, lightly touching the arm of her friend standing next to her. She notices that even though the others are laughing she only barely manages a smile and he knows that it’s partly his fault.
He closes his eyes, replaying those last moments in his mind.
“You want something, Linc?” she had asked, leaning through the passenger window.
Michael smiled softly at her, handing her some loose change. “Buy him a coffee, one cream, two sugars.”
He’d let his fingers linger as he’d made contact with her hand and for a moment she had looked at him suspiciously but then returned her attention to Linc. He shrugged slightly.
“Java chip frappucino with mint?” she had asked Michael.
He nodded, feeling a pang of guilt that she knew what he ordered, considering what they were about to do. “Thank you.”
He’d watched as she’d walked from where they were parked towards the Starbucks, pulling her jacket close around her as she always did these days, as though somehow that would help her hide from the public eye.
“You sure about this?” Linc had questioned.
“No,” was the only respond he had been able to conjure up.
At the moment that Linc restarted the engine and pulled out Sara had looked back, and the look of complete and utter betrayal, of devastation had flashed through her eyes. And then she’d been gone. Blocked from sight by trucks and cars.
It had been what was best for her.
He reopened his eyes, scanning the room for her again. She’s moved towards the bar. He frowns slightly. He knows she shouldn’t drink, at one stage in her life she had been an alcoholic. He wants to step forward and place a hand on her arm, prevent her from handing over the money to the bar tender.
But he doesn’t.
He watches as she takes the tequila sunrise and drinks it quickly, scanning the room as though she’s half expecting someone to care that she’s drinking. And that’s when she stops, her eyes landing on him and he freezes inside. He doesn’t want her to see him, she can’t.
Not at her wedding.
His brain is screaming at him to turn and run, but his feet won’t move, his eyes glued to hers, now staring at him with complete confusion from across the hall. For a moment he is surprised she even recognised him, but then he remembers he would recognise her anywhere, no matter how long it was since they’d last seen each other.
It had been three years.
He’s still frozen in his position as she stands up and starts moving towards him. As she’s about to reach him he knows her reaction isn’t going to be a good one, but instead of the screaming match he’s half-expecting to happen he gets silence.
He looks down at her, into her eyes, and he sees past the nice dress, the perfect hair, right down into the broken remains of who she used to be. She blinks a few times and he knows she’s holding back tears, whether they were caused by sorrow or by anger he can’t be certain.
Maybe it was both.
He wants to reach out and hold her and tell her he wishes none of it had ever happened, but he knows that he can’t. He lost that right the day he left her.
He can see the confusion in her expression, the anger turning to hate turning to curiosity.
“Sara,” he manages to say.
Instantly she seems to take his voice as confirmation that she’s not dreaming. “You left me.”
The sound that comes out can’t quite be described as her voice, but something closer to the sound of an animal being strangled, and the next thing he knows there are tears welling up in her eyes.
He wants to tell her it was for the best, that because they left her she’s probably alive and living a good life now, but he knows that’s not something she’ll ever understand. He’d done it for her, not because he thought it would make her happy, but because he had honestly believed it to be the best option at the time.
The further away she was from him the further away she was from all the trouble he had caused her. He had believed that the tornado of destruction left in the path of her life since she’d met him would vanish if he left her.
She seems to realised he’s not going to speak. “Why are you here?”
And again he wants to take her in his arms and tell her he’s sorry, for everything. Her voice sounds so full of emotion he just wants her to know he wants her to be happy. There are tears in his eyes but he refuses to wipe them away, hoping she hasn’t noticed them.
“Michael…”
And as he hears his voice he knows that the tight feeling in his chest is his heart shattering into a thousand pieces as he stands here and talks to the one woman he cared enough about to risk everything to be with, the same woman he cared enough about to leave behind even though he wanted nothing more than to be by her side for every day of the rest of his life.
“I should leave.”
“Yes.”
In his mind he translate it.
‘I can’t just turn around and walk out of that door again.’
‘I know.’
He isn’t even entirely sure why he’s there, he’s had ample opportunity to see her again, and he chooses her wedding reception to turn up.
“You shouldn’t drink,” he states, nodding towards the bar, avoiding looking at her.
She doesn’t dignify him with a response, they both know she’s in the wrong, and he suspects that it’s not just the drinking she shouldn’t be doing. He finds himself glancing at her arm, looking for marks, but she crosses her arms before he can see anything, hiding any evidence from him.
“He’s an engineer, a good one,” she tells him, and he can tell she doesn’t know exactly why she feels as though she has to share it with him.
“I know.”
“I figured you would,” she almost sounds angry at him.
They fall silent again and he looks out into the crowd, searching for the man. The one he knows will try his hardest to protect her, and will fail. Because he’s learnt that Sara Tancredi is like the wild river, she does as she pleases and nothing will stand in her way of that.
Not that it stops him from blaming himself for her misery.
His eyes land on him eventually, recognising the man from a photo, he is smiling and talking to a group of people, seeming to have the time of his life.
“Does he make you happy?”
“Happier than you ever did.”
He can see she instantly regrets the words, but she doesn’t apologise, her eyes looking everywhere but at him.
“I deserve that,” he says quietly.
“No you don’t,” she replies over the top of his statement, as though she already knew what he was about to say.
Neither of them apologise. There’s too much between them to say and they both know it’s not possible to say it all, so why start? He looks down at the rest of her, taking in every detail. Her bracelet, her newly acquired ring, the shoes, the dress…
“You’re pregnant,” he observes, returning his eyes to look at hers.
She looks shocked, glancing down at her stomach and then back at him, but she doesn’t answer him. It’s not a question, she knows that much. He suddenly understands, she’s not marrying the man because he makes her happy. His instinct to save kicks in again, but he knows he’s too late. Pushing it to the back of his mind he reaches forward and places a hand lightly on her shoulder.
“You shouldn’t drink, Sara…”
“I know,” and he sees that she does. “I haven’t been, not since I found out…”
“I just saw you.”
“One drink…and it’s my wedding night.”
He runs his hand down her arm and he sees her physically shiver, closing her eyes as he does so. When he reaches her elbow he pulls lightly on her arms, making her uncross them as he holds her arms out to inspect them. There are faint track marks but nothing recent.
It’s not a relief to him, but it makes him feel better that she stopped using, he assumes since she found out about the child.
“We think it’s a boy,” she states, her eyes still focused on his hands which were still holding hers, even as she slackens her arms so they fall back down.
He nods and lets go of her hands. “Congratulations.”
She seems to remember where she is and takes a step back. “I…” she pauses and looks at him. “I don’t want you to leave again without knowing I’ll see you again.”
“I’ll see you,” he says quietly.
“No…Michael…I want to see you.”
“You will.”
He turns and grabs blindly for the handle of the door, managing to find it and pushing the door open, his vision blurred by a sudden onset of tears. He hears the door slam shut behind him and he knows she won’t follow. Yet again he’s managed to ruin something for her and he wishes he could convince himself to stay out of her life for good.
He reaches the car and places his hands against the roof, leaning forwards and looking at the ground for a few moments, not entirely sure if he wants to be sick or not. He pounds his fist against the car then he jerks open the door and gets in, slamming it shut behind him.
He takes a few moments to jiggle the key into the lock before he screeches out of the parking lot. A quick glance in his rear view mirror confirming what he suspected.
An empty road.
~*~
A/N: I don't know at what stage of pregnancy you can tell the gender of a child, everyone I asked said something different...so...sorry if you have to be majorly showing before you can tell...*hides from biology*
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Spoilers: Kinda AU so nothing specific
Rating: PG
Summary: "He looks down at her, into her eyes, and he sees past the nice dress, the perfect hair, right down into the broken remains of who she used to be."
~*~
He watches from a distance. He hasn’t spoken to her since the day they had separated back in Chicago. Every day he’s thought about speaking to her, asking her to come back, wanting to tell her he’d left for her own good, but he knows that will do him no good. He’s betrayed her before and regained her trust once, it wasn’t going to happen again.
Even Sara Tancredi wasn’t that forgiving.
He watches as she smiles, lightly touching the arm of her friend standing next to her. She notices that even though the others are laughing she only barely manages a smile and he knows that it’s partly his fault.
He closes his eyes, replaying those last moments in his mind.
“You want something, Linc?” she had asked, leaning through the passenger window.
Michael smiled softly at her, handing her some loose change. “Buy him a coffee, one cream, two sugars.”
He’d let his fingers linger as he’d made contact with her hand and for a moment she had looked at him suspiciously but then returned her attention to Linc. He shrugged slightly.
“Java chip frappucino with mint?” she had asked Michael.
He nodded, feeling a pang of guilt that she knew what he ordered, considering what they were about to do. “Thank you.”
He’d watched as she’d walked from where they were parked towards the Starbucks, pulling her jacket close around her as she always did these days, as though somehow that would help her hide from the public eye.
“You sure about this?” Linc had questioned.
“No,” was the only respond he had been able to conjure up.
At the moment that Linc restarted the engine and pulled out Sara had looked back, and the look of complete and utter betrayal, of devastation had flashed through her eyes. And then she’d been gone. Blocked from sight by trucks and cars.
It had been what was best for her.
He reopened his eyes, scanning the room for her again. She’s moved towards the bar. He frowns slightly. He knows she shouldn’t drink, at one stage in her life she had been an alcoholic. He wants to step forward and place a hand on her arm, prevent her from handing over the money to the bar tender.
But he doesn’t.
He watches as she takes the tequila sunrise and drinks it quickly, scanning the room as though she’s half expecting someone to care that she’s drinking. And that’s when she stops, her eyes landing on him and he freezes inside. He doesn’t want her to see him, she can’t.
Not at her wedding.
His brain is screaming at him to turn and run, but his feet won’t move, his eyes glued to hers, now staring at him with complete confusion from across the hall. For a moment he is surprised she even recognised him, but then he remembers he would recognise her anywhere, no matter how long it was since they’d last seen each other.
It had been three years.
He’s still frozen in his position as she stands up and starts moving towards him. As she’s about to reach him he knows her reaction isn’t going to be a good one, but instead of the screaming match he’s half-expecting to happen he gets silence.
He looks down at her, into her eyes, and he sees past the nice dress, the perfect hair, right down into the broken remains of who she used to be. She blinks a few times and he knows she’s holding back tears, whether they were caused by sorrow or by anger he can’t be certain.
Maybe it was both.
He wants to reach out and hold her and tell her he wishes none of it had ever happened, but he knows that he can’t. He lost that right the day he left her.
He can see the confusion in her expression, the anger turning to hate turning to curiosity.
“Sara,” he manages to say.
Instantly she seems to take his voice as confirmation that she’s not dreaming. “You left me.”
The sound that comes out can’t quite be described as her voice, but something closer to the sound of an animal being strangled, and the next thing he knows there are tears welling up in her eyes.
He wants to tell her it was for the best, that because they left her she’s probably alive and living a good life now, but he knows that’s not something she’ll ever understand. He’d done it for her, not because he thought it would make her happy, but because he had honestly believed it to be the best option at the time.
The further away she was from him the further away she was from all the trouble he had caused her. He had believed that the tornado of destruction left in the path of her life since she’d met him would vanish if he left her.
She seems to realised he’s not going to speak. “Why are you here?”
And again he wants to take her in his arms and tell her he’s sorry, for everything. Her voice sounds so full of emotion he just wants her to know he wants her to be happy. There are tears in his eyes but he refuses to wipe them away, hoping she hasn’t noticed them.
“Michael…”
And as he hears his voice he knows that the tight feeling in his chest is his heart shattering into a thousand pieces as he stands here and talks to the one woman he cared enough about to risk everything to be with, the same woman he cared enough about to leave behind even though he wanted nothing more than to be by her side for every day of the rest of his life.
“I should leave.”
“Yes.”
In his mind he translate it.
‘I can’t just turn around and walk out of that door again.’
‘I know.’
He isn’t even entirely sure why he’s there, he’s had ample opportunity to see her again, and he chooses her wedding reception to turn up.
“You shouldn’t drink,” he states, nodding towards the bar, avoiding looking at her.
She doesn’t dignify him with a response, they both know she’s in the wrong, and he suspects that it’s not just the drinking she shouldn’t be doing. He finds himself glancing at her arm, looking for marks, but she crosses her arms before he can see anything, hiding any evidence from him.
“He’s an engineer, a good one,” she tells him, and he can tell she doesn’t know exactly why she feels as though she has to share it with him.
“I know.”
“I figured you would,” she almost sounds angry at him.
They fall silent again and he looks out into the crowd, searching for the man. The one he knows will try his hardest to protect her, and will fail. Because he’s learnt that Sara Tancredi is like the wild river, she does as she pleases and nothing will stand in her way of that.
Not that it stops him from blaming himself for her misery.
His eyes land on him eventually, recognising the man from a photo, he is smiling and talking to a group of people, seeming to have the time of his life.
“Does he make you happy?”
“Happier than you ever did.”
He can see she instantly regrets the words, but she doesn’t apologise, her eyes looking everywhere but at him.
“I deserve that,” he says quietly.
“No you don’t,” she replies over the top of his statement, as though she already knew what he was about to say.
Neither of them apologise. There’s too much between them to say and they both know it’s not possible to say it all, so why start? He looks down at the rest of her, taking in every detail. Her bracelet, her newly acquired ring, the shoes, the dress…
“You’re pregnant,” he observes, returning his eyes to look at hers.
She looks shocked, glancing down at her stomach and then back at him, but she doesn’t answer him. It’s not a question, she knows that much. He suddenly understands, she’s not marrying the man because he makes her happy. His instinct to save kicks in again, but he knows he’s too late. Pushing it to the back of his mind he reaches forward and places a hand lightly on her shoulder.
“You shouldn’t drink, Sara…”
“I know,” and he sees that she does. “I haven’t been, not since I found out…”
“I just saw you.”
“One drink…and it’s my wedding night.”
He runs his hand down her arm and he sees her physically shiver, closing her eyes as he does so. When he reaches her elbow he pulls lightly on her arms, making her uncross them as he holds her arms out to inspect them. There are faint track marks but nothing recent.
It’s not a relief to him, but it makes him feel better that she stopped using, he assumes since she found out about the child.
“We think it’s a boy,” she states, her eyes still focused on his hands which were still holding hers, even as she slackens her arms so they fall back down.
He nods and lets go of her hands. “Congratulations.”
She seems to remember where she is and takes a step back. “I…” she pauses and looks at him. “I don’t want you to leave again without knowing I’ll see you again.”
“I’ll see you,” he says quietly.
“No…Michael…I want to see you.”
“You will.”
He turns and grabs blindly for the handle of the door, managing to find it and pushing the door open, his vision blurred by a sudden onset of tears. He hears the door slam shut behind him and he knows she won’t follow. Yet again he’s managed to ruin something for her and he wishes he could convince himself to stay out of her life for good.
He reaches the car and places his hands against the roof, leaning forwards and looking at the ground for a few moments, not entirely sure if he wants to be sick or not. He pounds his fist against the car then he jerks open the door and gets in, slamming it shut behind him.
He takes a few moments to jiggle the key into the lock before he screeches out of the parking lot. A quick glance in his rear view mirror confirming what he suspected.
An empty road.
~*~
A/N: I don't know at what stage of pregnancy you can tell the gender of a child, everyone I asked said something different...so...sorry if you have to be majorly showing before you can tell...*hides from biology*