'Truth you're not supposed to know.'
Title: Sanctuary
Author: muldy
Rating: PG
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Wordcount: 918 words
Summary: "Sara Tancredi had never been afraid of the dark. As a child she had treated it as her sanctuary, as her one escape from the hell she considered her life to be."
A/N: Response to the foxriver_fic One Prompt One Hour Challenge (4th Sept) - written in 34 minutes.
~*~
Sara Tancredi had never been afraid of the dark. As a child she had treated it as her sanctuary, as her one escape from the hell she considered her life to be. When it was dark her parents were asleep, her father in his bed and her mother strewn on the couch seemingly more unconscious than sleeping.
Sometimes she had sat and watched her, wishing that there were something she could do to help save her but she knew there was no point. The alcoholism was what ran her mothers life, sometimes she wondered if the woman who had given birth to her even remembered that she had a child.
One night she had wandered outside in the early hours of the morning, searching for sanctuary from the house she was confined to for most of her free time. The snow blanketed the ground, and the clear sky allowed the almost-full moon to reflect off it.
It wasn’t dark out there and she had wished it were, wanting to hide in the shadows. She crawled into the bushes that lined the front of her house, seeking darkness. From inside her hiding spot she watched, surprised at the amount of things that happened when the world was apparently sleeping.
When the sun had risen she had climbed back through the living room window and tip-toed quietly back to her room, climbing into her bed in anticipation of her father waking her up for school. Her father never woke her up that morning, she was awoken by the loud sounds of ambulance sirens and the stamping feet of more than the usual two occupants of the house.
At that moment it wasn’t the dark she was afraid of, but the light of day, what it could reveal.
Eventually a man she had never met had come into the room and picked her up, carrying her out to the living room where her father was sitting in silence on the couch usually occupied by her mother.
She had nothing to say, she knew what had happened.
As her father looked up at her, reaching his arms out to comfort her she shook her head, and turning around she ran for the door, crawling back into her spot under the bushes and closed her eyes, waiting for the sanctuary of night to return.
Yet now, for the first time, she wished for nothing more than daylight. Perched on the edge of the rickety old bed all she could do was wish that Michael would wake up, would stop rolling around restlessly flinging his arms in all directions.
The time in Sona had changed him, he had seen things she knew she couldn’t barely begin to imagine, but that didn’t stop her from standing by his side as he was consumed by his nightmares.
She wanted to crawl into the bed next to him, to put her arms around him and tell him that it would all be OK but he had barely spoken a word to her since he had stepped out of the walls of the prison. In the daylight he could pretend, pretend that he was almost OK. He would smile slightly as a thanks and he would speak to them both as though nothing had changed.
But the moment they were left alone he would go silent. She wondered if he felt guilty for something that had happened to her, or if he really had no words to say to her.
He threw an arm into the wooden planks of the wall next to his bed and she flinched, unable to take him hurting anymore. She wanted nothing more than the daylight, watching the sun setting was by far the worse part of her day, knowing it meant she would have to spend the night sitting by his side, making sure he didn’t injure himself and just before dawn sneaking back into her room so he had no idea she had been there.
“Michael,” she said quietly, moving from the end of the bed and sitting next to him, taking his flailing arm and intertwining her fingers with his. “Michael you’re not in prison anymore, it’s OK.”
He calmed down slightly at her voice but his forehead was still creased in a frown and his arm was still tense. The child in her wanted to run, wanted to hide outside in the bushes and watch the world go by, but she had learned her lesson.
What she feared wasn’t her own sanity, but that if she left him it would be the last time. The tears began to prick at the back of her eyes and she looked away, almost as though she believed the sleeping man would be able to tell she was crying.
He rolled towards her and she suddenly found herself without much room on the bed, instead she sunk to the ground next to his bed, her hand letting go of his to wipe away the tears that suddenly blurred her vision.
As she sat on the floor of the Panamanian shack, shaking with her attempt to keep her tears silent for fear of waking Michael she wondered if this was all it was ever going to be. That she would fall asleep on the floor in tears every night listening to the fearful mutterings of a man consumed by nightmares.
Sara Tancredi had never been afraid of the dark, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than for the sun to rise.
~*~
Author: muldy
Rating: PG
Pairing: Michael/Sara
Wordcount: 918 words
Summary: "Sara Tancredi had never been afraid of the dark. As a child she had treated it as her sanctuary, as her one escape from the hell she considered her life to be."
A/N: Response to the foxriver_fic One Prompt One Hour Challenge (4th Sept) - written in 34 minutes.
~*~
Sara Tancredi had never been afraid of the dark. As a child she had treated it as her sanctuary, as her one escape from the hell she considered her life to be. When it was dark her parents were asleep, her father in his bed and her mother strewn on the couch seemingly more unconscious than sleeping.
Sometimes she had sat and watched her, wishing that there were something she could do to help save her but she knew there was no point. The alcoholism was what ran her mothers life, sometimes she wondered if the woman who had given birth to her even remembered that she had a child.
One night she had wandered outside in the early hours of the morning, searching for sanctuary from the house she was confined to for most of her free time. The snow blanketed the ground, and the clear sky allowed the almost-full moon to reflect off it.
It wasn’t dark out there and she had wished it were, wanting to hide in the shadows. She crawled into the bushes that lined the front of her house, seeking darkness. From inside her hiding spot she watched, surprised at the amount of things that happened when the world was apparently sleeping.
When the sun had risen she had climbed back through the living room window and tip-toed quietly back to her room, climbing into her bed in anticipation of her father waking her up for school. Her father never woke her up that morning, she was awoken by the loud sounds of ambulance sirens and the stamping feet of more than the usual two occupants of the house.
At that moment it wasn’t the dark she was afraid of, but the light of day, what it could reveal.
Eventually a man she had never met had come into the room and picked her up, carrying her out to the living room where her father was sitting in silence on the couch usually occupied by her mother.
She had nothing to say, she knew what had happened.
As her father looked up at her, reaching his arms out to comfort her she shook her head, and turning around she ran for the door, crawling back into her spot under the bushes and closed her eyes, waiting for the sanctuary of night to return.
Yet now, for the first time, she wished for nothing more than daylight. Perched on the edge of the rickety old bed all she could do was wish that Michael would wake up, would stop rolling around restlessly flinging his arms in all directions.
The time in Sona had changed him, he had seen things she knew she couldn’t barely begin to imagine, but that didn’t stop her from standing by his side as he was consumed by his nightmares.
She wanted to crawl into the bed next to him, to put her arms around him and tell him that it would all be OK but he had barely spoken a word to her since he had stepped out of the walls of the prison. In the daylight he could pretend, pretend that he was almost OK. He would smile slightly as a thanks and he would speak to them both as though nothing had changed.
But the moment they were left alone he would go silent. She wondered if he felt guilty for something that had happened to her, or if he really had no words to say to her.
He threw an arm into the wooden planks of the wall next to his bed and she flinched, unable to take him hurting anymore. She wanted nothing more than the daylight, watching the sun setting was by far the worse part of her day, knowing it meant she would have to spend the night sitting by his side, making sure he didn’t injure himself and just before dawn sneaking back into her room so he had no idea she had been there.
“Michael,” she said quietly, moving from the end of the bed and sitting next to him, taking his flailing arm and intertwining her fingers with his. “Michael you’re not in prison anymore, it’s OK.”
He calmed down slightly at her voice but his forehead was still creased in a frown and his arm was still tense. The child in her wanted to run, wanted to hide outside in the bushes and watch the world go by, but she had learned her lesson.
What she feared wasn’t her own sanity, but that if she left him it would be the last time. The tears began to prick at the back of her eyes and she looked away, almost as though she believed the sleeping man would be able to tell she was crying.
He rolled towards her and she suddenly found herself without much room on the bed, instead she sunk to the ground next to his bed, her hand letting go of his to wipe away the tears that suddenly blurred her vision.
As she sat on the floor of the Panamanian shack, shaking with her attempt to keep her tears silent for fear of waking Michael she wondered if this was all it was ever going to be. That she would fall asleep on the floor in tears every night listening to the fearful mutterings of a man consumed by nightmares.
Sara Tancredi had never been afraid of the dark, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than for the sun to rise.
~*~