Set post-season three with a very vague awareness of the season four premiere. I'm in the middle of re-watching season three (bleh) and just want to get back to the MiSa already. So instead, I wrote some. A fresh take on the reunion.

Okay

"Sara," the word felt like the first real breath released from his lungs in months. The first since his last sight of her.

She smiled carefully at him. "Hello, Michael."

Michael approached her slowly, drinking in her appearance, memorizing every detail. The creamy smoothness of her legs, the dark auburn of her wavy hair, the bags under her eyes, the exposed bruises on her right arm - some very distinctly in the shape of a handprint. The gentle smile that had been playing on his lips turned into a distinct frown at the sight.

Following Michael's line of vision, Sara crossed her arms, attempted to cover the marks. "I'm fine."

At her statement, Michael closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight hug. Sara's tensed frame relaxed in his arms. She breathed out his name in quiet contentment, and Michael tightened his arms around her.

He spoke in a shaky voice, barely daring to raise it above a whisper. "I can't believe you're alive. They told me…they told me you were dead. I wanted to be dead," he admitted.

Sara pressed a kiss into the crook of Michael's neck. "I assure you, I am very much alive."

"Lincoln told me he found your head in a box."

Sara smiled sadly. "Obviously, it wasn't mine."

"Thank god for that," Michael whispered gratefully.

He kissed her then, his face wet with tears he hadn't even realized he'd been crying. His lips molded against hers for the first time since that fateful day, in that abandoned house by the dock.

After several heated moments, Sara pulled away slightly. "I've missed you."

Michael could feel her words on his neck. He pulled her into his arms again, running his hands through her hair. "I am so sorry."

"I'm okay now," she replied.

"Now," Michael emphasized. "I can't even imagine what you went through." He ran his thumb softly over the bruises on her forearm. "What did they put you through, Sara?"

She looked away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. "It wasn't that bad,"

"Don't lie, Sara. I can see the bruises on your arm. I hope that's the worst of it?"

Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew that they could not possibly be true. Her body had tensed up again, and it looked like she was trying to prevent a bubble of laughter at the thought of the bruises being the worst of her injuries.

Sara shook her head a bit sadly. "It's not. But I'll be okay. No other lasting effects than a little scarring."

Her hand subconsciously moved to rub her back.

Michael spoke, "You're downplaying this aren't you?"

Sara bit her lip. "I'm sure you'll see them eventually."

"They're bad?"

Sara nodded sharply. "They probably won't ever fade completely. But I survived. That's what's important, okay?"

She could see the guilt in Michael's eyes, hitting him in waves so hard it looked nearly corporeal.

Sara took Michael's face in her hands and locked her eyes on his.

"I'm okay, Michael. I'm okay now. And so are you. And so are Lincoln and LJ. We are all okay. And that's what is important now, you hear me?"

Michael nodded emphatically and whispered, "Okay."

Sara leaned in and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him tightly as close to her as possible. She smiled delicately against his lips and drew away, resting her forehead against his.

Sara whispered her next words like a mantra, to be repeated over and over.

"We're okay."