Ficcy Fic Fic...
Title: The First Time
Characters: Sara
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Only for season 1
Summary: "The first time she was kissed she was eight. The boy was the child of a politician, just like her, their fathers were friends and she had known him for four years. His name was Tommy Fitzwilliam."
A/N: Thanks to chickaboo and bella_blu for the beta.
i.
The first time she was kissed she was eight. The boy was the child of a politician, just like her, their fathers were friends and she had known him for four years. His name was Tommy Fitzwilliam.
They had been walking home from school together, because her father didn’t trust her to walk alone the two blocks back to her place, and he had kissed her on the lips right outside her house. Sara hadn’t quite understood what had happened at first, but she knew when her father had stormed out the front door moments later he hadn’t been pleased. An argument between her parents had ensued and after that Tommy Fitzwilliam was no longer allowed to walk her home.
Naturally, because she was now forbidden to see him, she wanted to. In class she would glance at him and smile, and after class he would slip her a note, or - on one occasion - even gave her a flower he had picked from the school playground. Years later she figured out it wasn’t really a flower, but a weed of sorts, although at the time she had thought it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.
And it probably was.
He was a change from her normal pattern of life. At night she would sit at her window and look across to his house, and he would sneak up to the window opposite hers at night and wave.
Three months later Tommy Fitzwilliam had moved away. She had sat on her front porch, hugging her knees, and watched as they had packed up the truck. Tommy had walked over to her, a note in one hand and a rose in the other. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d kissed her on the cheek before running back to his family’s car.
She cried as they drove off, and then she had opened the note.
I will miss you. Love Tommy.
She never heard from Tommy Fitzwilliam again, and when she was eleven she finally threw the note out.
ii.
The second time she was kissed had been against her will. At fourteen she had discovered alcohol, and made a habit of sneaking out to parties her father had forbidden her from attending. This particular one had been Mark Reid’s fifteenth birthday. He was the most popular boy at school, and someone she had little interest in, but the offer of free drinks had made her accept his invitation to attend.
He was perfect, good looking, smart, never got in trouble and his father was a lawyer. She hadn’t liked him one bit. But for some reason he had spent the entire time since they’d met chasing after her. One night and too much alcohol had led to him pushing her up against a wall and kissing her. At first she had been too drunk to process what was happening, and after that she had pushed him away.
Mark hadn’t appreciated it.
After that all the popular girls had stopped talking to her.
She hadn’t really cared.
iii.
The first time she had told someone she loved them she was sixteen. Lucas Robson had been everything she felt she needed at the time. He was tall, had dreadlocks and liked heavy metal. Everything her father wouldn’t approve of.
She had met him late one night in the park when she had snuck out with her best friend to drink tequila. He had been hanging around the steps with another guy and her best friend had wandered over to ask for a smoke.
Neither of them had had any cigarettes to offer but were happy to share some pot. She had been the first to jump at the opportunity, and in return had shared her tequila with him. Lucas had smiled at her once and she knew she liked him, much more than any of the prissy boys from the private school she was forced to attend.
It took three weeks before she kissed him and four before she had sex with him. Six weeks after that she had told him she loved him. He hadn’t responded for a few moments, then when he spoke he had told her to leave.
She saw him four days later with another girl in his arms.
After that she decided it was better not to get too attached to people.
iv.
The first time she heard the words spoken to her she had been in her second year of college. He had been her best friend’s boyfriend and she had been drunk. Jason Richards had been a nice guy, nothing like Lucas but also nothing like the boys from her school. She had known it was wrong, but after his confession she had kissed him.
The next day she realised that by doing that she had lost her best friend.
Jason had worried about her, something no one in her life had ever done, and he had told her to stop drinking, to stop smoking pot. While she was happy to have someone actually care about her, she wasn’t used to being told what to do. And she didn’t like it.
They had dated for six months before she had ended it. She remembered him staring at her and asking ‘why?’, and she remembered telling him she didn’t know. She had turned around and burst into tears, walking until she couldn’t walk any further, and then she had sat at the edge of a creek and stared at it for hours.
As someone else sat opposite her she had looked up. She watched as he glanced around, seeing no one other than her, before filling a needle with some sort of liquid and proceeded to inject it into himself. The bliss he seemed to be feeling as he did so made her curious. She had walked over and asked him what it was and he had looked at her, his eyes clouded over and distant, and informed her it was ‘morphine’.
She wanted to feel as clouded over and distant as his eyes did so she had asked him to show her how to do it. He had pulled a clean needle out of his bag, still wrapped in the plastic covering, and handed it to her.
‘You try,’ he had muttered.
So she had.
v.
The first time she understood what it meant to be in love she had been confined to a small cell with Michael Scofield and he had just had a psychotic break. She had never found herself so worried about someone, she had tried to block out those emotions. Partially because it was easier for her to deal with people that way and partially because it was her job to stay distant from her patients.
He had leant his head against her knee. She had found herself rubbing his shoulder lightly, telling him it would be OK, and she had realised she was telling herself as much as she was him. She wondered how this had happened, but at the time had been too distracted by the anxiety that had somehow gripped her.
It wasn’t until she was standing, watching him being led down the hall to the psych ward that she’d really understood. She had fallen hard and she hadn’t even noticed herself slipping.
It was weeks later that she realised that it wouldn’t just go away like the others had. He had betrayed her, and hurt her, and ruined her life; yet she still loved him. Still trusted him.
No matter how much morphine she took, no matter how often she told herself it was wrong and he had hurt her, her feelings for Michael Scofield would still be there. She could only hope that she got more than a note, or in his case more likely a paper crane, with six simple words on it. Because the last time she had felt like this about someone she had been eight and his name had been Tommy Fitzwilliam.
This time she had faith, things would turn out better.
As she turned and smiled at the man next to her she knew she was right. Things weren't going well for them as far as their lives were concerned, but they had each other.
Characters: Sara
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Only for season 1
Summary: "The first time she was kissed she was eight. The boy was the child of a politician, just like her, their fathers were friends and she had known him for four years. His name was Tommy Fitzwilliam."
A/N: Thanks to chickaboo and bella_blu for the beta.
i.
The first time she was kissed she was eight. The boy was the child of a politician, just like her, their fathers were friends and she had known him for four years. His name was Tommy Fitzwilliam.
They had been walking home from school together, because her father didn’t trust her to walk alone the two blocks back to her place, and he had kissed her on the lips right outside her house. Sara hadn’t quite understood what had happened at first, but she knew when her father had stormed out the front door moments later he hadn’t been pleased. An argument between her parents had ensued and after that Tommy Fitzwilliam was no longer allowed to walk her home.
Naturally, because she was now forbidden to see him, she wanted to. In class she would glance at him and smile, and after class he would slip her a note, or - on one occasion - even gave her a flower he had picked from the school playground. Years later she figured out it wasn’t really a flower, but a weed of sorts, although at the time she had thought it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.
And it probably was.
He was a change from her normal pattern of life. At night she would sit at her window and look across to his house, and he would sneak up to the window opposite hers at night and wave.
Three months later Tommy Fitzwilliam had moved away. She had sat on her front porch, hugging her knees, and watched as they had packed up the truck. Tommy had walked over to her, a note in one hand and a rose in the other. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d kissed her on the cheek before running back to his family’s car.
She cried as they drove off, and then she had opened the note.
I will miss you. Love Tommy.
She never heard from Tommy Fitzwilliam again, and when she was eleven she finally threw the note out.
ii.
The second time she was kissed had been against her will. At fourteen she had discovered alcohol, and made a habit of sneaking out to parties her father had forbidden her from attending. This particular one had been Mark Reid’s fifteenth birthday. He was the most popular boy at school, and someone she had little interest in, but the offer of free drinks had made her accept his invitation to attend.
He was perfect, good looking, smart, never got in trouble and his father was a lawyer. She hadn’t liked him one bit. But for some reason he had spent the entire time since they’d met chasing after her. One night and too much alcohol had led to him pushing her up against a wall and kissing her. At first she had been too drunk to process what was happening, and after that she had pushed him away.
Mark hadn’t appreciated it.
After that all the popular girls had stopped talking to her.
She hadn’t really cared.
iii.
The first time she had told someone she loved them she was sixteen. Lucas Robson had been everything she felt she needed at the time. He was tall, had dreadlocks and liked heavy metal. Everything her father wouldn’t approve of.
She had met him late one night in the park when she had snuck out with her best friend to drink tequila. He had been hanging around the steps with another guy and her best friend had wandered over to ask for a smoke.
Neither of them had had any cigarettes to offer but were happy to share some pot. She had been the first to jump at the opportunity, and in return had shared her tequila with him. Lucas had smiled at her once and she knew she liked him, much more than any of the prissy boys from the private school she was forced to attend.
It took three weeks before she kissed him and four before she had sex with him. Six weeks after that she had told him she loved him. He hadn’t responded for a few moments, then when he spoke he had told her to leave.
She saw him four days later with another girl in his arms.
After that she decided it was better not to get too attached to people.
iv.
The first time she heard the words spoken to her she had been in her second year of college. He had been her best friend’s boyfriend and she had been drunk. Jason Richards had been a nice guy, nothing like Lucas but also nothing like the boys from her school. She had known it was wrong, but after his confession she had kissed him.
The next day she realised that by doing that she had lost her best friend.
Jason had worried about her, something no one in her life had ever done, and he had told her to stop drinking, to stop smoking pot. While she was happy to have someone actually care about her, she wasn’t used to being told what to do. And she didn’t like it.
They had dated for six months before she had ended it. She remembered him staring at her and asking ‘why?’, and she remembered telling him she didn’t know. She had turned around and burst into tears, walking until she couldn’t walk any further, and then she had sat at the edge of a creek and stared at it for hours.
As someone else sat opposite her she had looked up. She watched as he glanced around, seeing no one other than her, before filling a needle with some sort of liquid and proceeded to inject it into himself. The bliss he seemed to be feeling as he did so made her curious. She had walked over and asked him what it was and he had looked at her, his eyes clouded over and distant, and informed her it was ‘morphine’.
She wanted to feel as clouded over and distant as his eyes did so she had asked him to show her how to do it. He had pulled a clean needle out of his bag, still wrapped in the plastic covering, and handed it to her.
‘You try,’ he had muttered.
So she had.
v.
The first time she understood what it meant to be in love she had been confined to a small cell with Michael Scofield and he had just had a psychotic break. She had never found herself so worried about someone, she had tried to block out those emotions. Partially because it was easier for her to deal with people that way and partially because it was her job to stay distant from her patients.
He had leant his head against her knee. She had found herself rubbing his shoulder lightly, telling him it would be OK, and she had realised she was telling herself as much as she was him. She wondered how this had happened, but at the time had been too distracted by the anxiety that had somehow gripped her.
It wasn’t until she was standing, watching him being led down the hall to the psych ward that she’d really understood. She had fallen hard and she hadn’t even noticed herself slipping.
It was weeks later that she realised that it wouldn’t just go away like the others had. He had betrayed her, and hurt her, and ruined her life; yet she still loved him. Still trusted him.
No matter how much morphine she took, no matter how often she told herself it was wrong and he had hurt her, her feelings for Michael Scofield would still be there. She could only hope that she got more than a note, or in his case more likely a paper crane, with six simple words on it. Because the last time she had felt like this about someone she had been eight and his name had been Tommy Fitzwilliam.
This time she had faith, things would turn out better.
As she turned and smiled at the man next to her she knew she was right. Things weren't going well for them as far as their lives were concerned, but they had each other.