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21 June 2009 @ 10:42 pm
Wentworth/Sarah || Flutter  
Title: Flutter (1/1)
Pairing: Wentworth Miller/Sarah Wayne Callies
Length: 786 words
Rating: Only PG, it would seem
Summary: It's just a flutter.
Author's Note: For my lovely adventurepants, simply because she is the nicest best friend anyone in the world could ever ask for. Also, just because I love Went/Sarah, and can not seem to get the two out of my head. Set post season two. No beta, all mistakes are mine, per usual.



He taps on her trailer door three times, then waits. He knows she's packing up all her necessities, she'll be leaving in the morning, and he can't pass the chance to tell her goodbye once more. The quick hug - if you could call it that, he can barely fit his arms around her these days - they'd shared in front of the crew after finishing up their last scene hadn't quite sufficed. Not when she is going so far away.

Canada. It isn't that he has anything against the country. He likes it fine. He'd dated a nice girl from Ontario for a couple weeks in college. She'd shown him pictures -- it's a beautiful place, he doesn't question why she and her husband chose to set up house there. It's just so far away. Too far to drop by for a random visit, or to stop by to drop off a stuffed bear after their birth of her baby.

He's going to miss her baby being born, he isn't going to see her cuddling the tiny, pink infant to her, kissing it's cheek, glowing with the satisfaction of finally holding the little person that was part her she'd brought into the world. Part of him is as relieved as he is regretful.

He knocks again, this time louder, and a few seconds later she finally answers. Waving him in, she shrugs. "My bladder can't take much these days."

He laughs, then glances around her trailer. It's practically barren. Making a face, he leans against the door frame. "Looks like you aren't coming back."

"I just don't want to be that far away and not have something I want or need." She shrugs, then folds a blanket, one he's seen her wrapped up in more times than he can count while they go over lines. "Plus, you're aware they haven't renewed my contract yet."

She smiles, but there's something he can't quite read behind her eyes. It makes him want to pull her into his arms, to confess all his feelings, to tell her that of course she'll be back, that he'll make sure of it even if he has to drag her back himself, but he merely nods.

Going back to packing up, she happily chats to him about her new place in Canada, motioning to a stack of pictures Josh had sent her, telling him she'd meant to show them off earlier but had gotten distracted. Baby brain, she intones, but he's only half-listening, instead just watching her move about, almost surprised at the way her t-shirt hugs her belly. She's stuck to wearing bulky sweaters and blossoming shirts while on set. This is something new.

The next thing he knows, she must have asked him a question he didn't hear, because she's grinning at him. Then, "what?"

"Nothing." He smirks. "You're just, ah, popping out there?"

"You're one to talk," she quips, casting a quick glance to his own stomach, and he laughs loudly, ready with his own retort when she halts him in his tracks, placing a hand on her belly and laughing quietly.

"What? Are you okay?"

She doesn't say anything, just motions him closer, then replaces her own hand with his, a smile widening across her face. "Feel?"

It takes him a moment, but he does. He smiles, then laughs when she does. "Not too rambunctious yet, is she?"

"Or he," she corrects automatically, then shakes her head. "No. It's just a flutter."

He stands with his hand on her belly, smiling stupidly at her as he feels her baby move, until it becomes awkward. Clearing his throat, he pulls away, then nods at her. "Call. Write."

She nods, her smile a promise. "Of course. You'll get weekly emails about my cankles and varicose veins."

"I'll be looking forward to it." He lingers, and he can tell she isn't quite ready for him to leave yet. Still, he doesn't offer to stay, and she doesn't ask.

"See you, Sarah."

She hesitates, and he sees the wary look in her eyes. He fights the urge to pull her to him once more, and pushes away the panicked feeling that he can't pinpoint exactly when he will see her again. Finally, she nods.

"Bye, Went."

On the way home he tries to ignore the agonizing thrum of his heart. The more it pumps, the more it hurts. It's a feeling he's used to after leaving her, after she leaves him, but it's not one he's able to ignore. By the time he's finished with dinner, it's weakened, and when he finally climbs in bed that night, picking up a book and pushing her out of his mind, it's just a flutter.
 
 
 
 
Jess: went&sarah  ||  freudianaboutbefore on June 24th, 2009 03:32 pm (UTC)
*g*