Characters: Sara, Kellerman/Sara (Light Het)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Summary (Season 2): Nothing would ever have happened between them…
Author's Notes: This may or may not be a re-entry into the Bleeding Cuticles challenge, but I can guarantee that this particular story is definitely Rosie's fault.
Also for writers_choice, this is "Addiction."
Nothing would have happened between us.
Those were the kinds of reassurances Sara liked to cling to, whether it was during those sleepless nights after she'd lost everything (including the one new friend she'd found) or sitting in a motel room halfway across the country, waiting for Michael to come back.
She and Lance would have never—
because they warned you about getting involved with other people in recovery, other addicts—
but a part of her knew that was a lie.
She'd always been attracted to the thrill (the danger), whether it was shooting up in a hospital supply closet or falling for the kind of man who couldn't be trusted to play it safe. Another addict, by definition, would always fit the bill.
Lance was funny and charming, nowhere near as smooth as Michael but with the same sense of teetering on the edge. It was that last part that always wound up pulling her in.
Michael had asked her to betray her profession (for Lincoln, it was to save Lincoln, and she knew he hadn't deserved to die), and then abandoned her to pick up the pieces. But there hadn't been enough left of her to even know where to begin.
In the hospital, she'd finally gotten angry. Who the hell was Michael Scofield to use her like that, to make promises he never intended to keep? She would not give up on everything she'd worked to become just because she'd been unlucky enough to get caught in the wake of destruction Michael had wrought.
That anger only made Lance more attractive, because he wasn't Michael, and even knowing her worst flaws he seemed to accept her for who she was. She'd skated over the possibility of her and Lance together, always forcing the thought away only to have it resurface all over again.
It had lain there in the background, even as she traveled west to meet Michael for some unfathomable plan he hadn't even bothered to explain.
But after the last ten minutes—strapped to a chair in a bathroom while the stranger she'd known as Lance was in the next room deciding her fate—she no longer had any doubts.
She was finally fucking prepared to let it all go.
-------- fin --------