Chapter 37: Chapter 16.2 – Livin’ On A Pray ~ We’ve got each other and that’s a lot for love

*Livin' On A Way by Bon Jovi

 

Michael stepped inside his office, closing the door with a soft bang. He sat down on his smooth leather chair. He patted down on his lap, nodding to Sara, “Come.”

Sara was hugging her arm to her side and came to her father, asking softly, “Am I in trouble?” Her black hair spilled over her face as she walked to him. Her eyes gave a glossy look as she wondered why she was called in. She unhooked. She sat down on his lap, brushing her cheek against his as she let him wrap his arms lovingly around her, Michael nearly holding her in his arms. Her sword, which was held by her sleuth--connected to the belt, hanged by her hips.

Michael’s daughter inhaled a deep sigh, her cheekbones enhancing her sharp figure. She placed her head on his, letting her creamy legs draped over the armchair, and her back pressed against the other armchair. She gazed at him as he stared down at her bruise, “Sweetie,” he traced his finger on her bruise, making her flinch, “What happened?” He was trying to pacify his mind of Pitch escaping.

Sara was too exhausted to muster a dodge to the question, “Sal.” She clutched at her father’s arm, “It was a nightmare and he pretended to be like you and stabbed me.” She buried her face in his chest as she started to weep, “Father. I know you think I’m insane, but I’m not, I swear!”

Michael felt spots of wetness go down on his white cotton shirt, feeling the hotness of her cheeks as they pinked when Sara cried. He delicately stroked her hair as he whispered back, “Sara. You aren’t insane.” He kept looking down at the bruising and his mind wondered if she hurt herself internally, but that wasn’t his daughter. Sara was a lot of things and wanted attention from him from time to time, but this wasn’t how she would seek attention or even lie about it. “Is there anything I can do?” Pitch and Sara were to complete different matters of stress for Michael. Michael wanted Pitch dead, while he wanted Sara healthy and happy as Heaven itself.

Sara wiped her nose on his shirt, which Michael could care less, “No, I just want this to go away.” She burst into harder tears, “No! Dad, it’s none of your concern!” She tried to pull away from her, but Michael held her still, grasping his arm around her back, making her wince.

Sara looked away from her father, not trying to seem weak, “I have a bruise on my back too.”

“Can I look at it?”

Sara folded her arms with a frown on her face, “I guess.”

Michael lifted the back of her shirt, seeing a deep blue and purple on the left upper side of her back. He saw the sharp spine and let the shirt drop as he placed his arm around her again. He gave her a stern, serious look as he said, “You aren’t hurting yourself?”

Sara dropped her eyes to the floor, “Dad, you think I could reach my hands there?”

Michael raised his eyebrows, waiting for her response.

“No, of course not!” Sara huffed, some of her hair blowing away from her face, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Sara,” warned Michael, “This is important. Look at yourself. You are paler than a vampire, looked like most of your blood had been sucked out of you already, and if weren’t part demon and angel, you would be dead by now.”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be your daughter!” She shout back, her eyes flashing red with anger as she snapped her glare to the floor, her heart feeling like it was ripped out of her chest as those words hung in the air. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

The Archangel sifted his look from a loving gaze to trying not to look hurt, “Sara, you’re tired. Pitch is out, this is scary. We all are impoverished." He placed his hand on her chest, letting the bruise heal from the chest to the back, “You said that he stabbed you?”

Sara gritted down her teeth as she hugged herself tighter, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Sara,” sighed Michael.

“I don’t!” She felt herself shudder and held herself together from not crying again. She changed the subject, “What did you want to talk about anyway?”

Michael was getting a headache with his daughter; but didn’t know how to keep reflecting on what was happening with Sara. But Pitch escaping was a demanding process in which he needed questions answered sooner rather than later for he didn’t want to waste any more precious time, “Sara. Did you help Pitch escape the first time?”

Sara jerked her eyes up to him in revelation, “Help Pitch? Father, why did you think I would do such?”

Michael clasped his daughter in his arms, “What you said during that video I had to look more closely at. Everyone that met Pitch during those three days is a suspect, including you.”

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Sara bowed her down, “I understand. I don’t know. I wouldn’t have helped him, or I would’ve told you by guilt, you know I would’ve.”

“How about the time you were in the forest unconscious?”

Sara shrugged, “I think I was playing in the forest.”

Michael replied, “You said beforehand that you went to see the sword and the weapon scared you and you went running off.” He noted that he didn’t sense her lying to him at all when she had mentioned that.

Sara glanced up thinking, “Oh...I don’t remember any of that. I just remember, darkness.”

Michael bite down on his lips and asked, “When you try to remember what happened that night, do you get a headache?”

Sara flickered her eyes at him, “Yes, how did you know?”

Michael groaned and rubbed his temple, “I was afraid to hear that.”

“Why”

“Because, that means someone replaced your memories,” he shook his head, “And that is not good.”

“Maybe the incident hitting my head and every time I try to think of that, I get a headache?” suggested Sara.

“That’s not how it works.”

Sara stared at her father with wide eyes, “You don’t think I would’ve let him escape. Dad, if I was that stupid, I am so sorry,” she stated. Even though her brain kept denying that she would do such a thing, her heart and soul knew that part of her would. That was like her to do something like that. And her asking for a second chance for Pitch...it seemed to click perfectly as her being the suspect. “Are you assuming he erased my memories?”

Michael swayed his head with a frown, “I don’t know honey. But, that’s not what I would’ve liked to hear.” He felt like he should’ve been angered at Sara for this, but these were all observations he was making without any evidence. But her not remembering anything and being at the forest that day...and saying those things about giving Pitch a second chance, was making some lead way more than anything else he had.

Couldn’t have been possible for Lucifer to use a shapeshifter when he gave Pitch to me that day? That it wasn’t the real Pitch? Then, of course, that would mean Lucifer and Pitch would be working together, and Pitch, which Michael assumed, failed to save their sister.

His mind started to daunt maybe this was the reason he hated Pitch now. Because he failed to save her. He felt a lump in his throat as he thought of that and clutched at his daughter. He smelled the wonderful natural scent of coconut and lavender from her but sensed something off from her.

He saw her eyes glistered as she responded, “Dad, you should throw me in jail! I could’ve been the one to let Pitch out!”

Michael hushed, ‘Sara, don’t say that.” He was surprised at how calm he was to learn of this news, but he couldn’t be mad at her. Who could’ve been at her in that state she looked, fragile and delicate, and looking at him with such innocence?

Even though Michael wanted to dismiss what came to him of Sara helping Pitch out and then the warlock erasing her memories, he couldn’t. He did feel frustrated nevertheless, “Sara, honey, if this is true…” which he hoped it wasn’t, “I am going to have to work to pry at your memories. I will need the Seers' help for this.”

Sara nodded understandably, “Yes. That’s fine.”

Michael couldn’t believe he was convincing himself of this awful idea, but it felt now like a concrete fact that was laid out of him like a golden ticket, “Alright then.” He said with a sigh and Sara slid off of him. She stood up and dizziness hit her like an unexpected storm. She collapsed, Michael reached her in time to catch her. Sara's eyes fluttered as darkness came to her. Michael’s heart plummeted down in his chest as he saw that she somehow looked even more deadly paler than she had seconds ago. It looked like she had lost gallons of blood.

Michael didn’t have time to interrogate her as he glanced frantically at her harsh breathing. A lump came up in his throat as he wanted to start crying. This wasn’t fucking fair.

It took me this long to get her. His hands shook as he held her tight close to his heart, feeling his heart punching at his chest. I worked this hard. I am not going to lose her. The Archangel let a sob escape his mouth as he glanced up to the ceiling, imagining seeing the heavens. He prayed with a heartbroken plea, feeling her silky hair bush against his skin lightly and her cold body pressing his muscular body: Father, please. He let another sob escape from him, Lucifer had our sister, let me have Sara.

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