Prison Break - Kaleidoscope (6/9)
Title: Kaleidoscope (6/9)
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Sara, Lincoln, implied Michael/Sara
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Word Count: ~ 695
Warnings: None
Summary: A hissing in-take of air and three small exhalations sounding like a purr. The sound is even, rhythmic in the quiet hotel bedroom.
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Sara
A hissing in-take of air and three small exhalations sounding like a purr. The sound is even, rhythmic in the quiet hotel bedroom. Sara listens to it for a few minutes, involuntary matching her own breathing with it. In the end, she lets her head roll to the side and asks Lincoln, “Does he often snore like that?”
“As far as I remember, only when he’s really exhausted.” From his armchair a few feet away, he raises his head to cast a look at Michael who is asleep on the bed next to Sara. He stretched out on his stomach, fully clothed, an arm folded under his cheek. He doesn’t touch Sara, he barely brushes her, his elbow gazing her arm. “Not very sexy, huh?”
She doesn’t answer him. She’s not ready to admit that she finds that quite touching, the embarrassing little flaw as well as the fact that he trusts them - her - enough to let go. She just watches with fascination as Lincoln folds and folds again a paper sheet, his thick fingers surprisingly delicate and nimble. An origami crane. It’s his third since Michael fell asleep.
It’s Lincoln who demanded that they rest, that Michael should stop for a couple of hours and that he sleep for God’s sake, before he drives them crazy. Demanded that Sara lies next to him because she looks like hell - “Thank you, Lincoln!” He slumped into an armchair, as if he wanted to watch them and make sure they would obey, and he started to fold. He’s quite an odd watchman and Sara’s been a bit surprised; she thought that this need to control things, situations and people was Michael’s privilege. She can’t blame him, though. After three years not belonging to himself anymore, he does deserve compensation.
She suspects that a part of his interest for her is because Michael cares for her, and she’s totally okay with that. It’s reciprocal. A few days ago, in Fox River... she did... what she did because she was convinced of Lincoln’s innocence. However she’s honest enough to know that she wouldn’t have reviewed his file without Michael’s request.
“I would never have done for him what he did for me,” Lincoln suddenly drops without looking at her, his fingers creasing the crane’s beck.
“Not a lot of people would have done what he did.” He nods his approval and from his expression, she can see that he’s grateful she doesn’t try to contradict him or prove him wrong. “But I’m sure you’ve done quite a deal of dumb things for him too.”
Michael rolls onto his side, his hand groping around and finally resting on Sara’s stomach, right under her breasts. For a few seconds, Lincoln stares at the hand, at the splayed fingers slightly clutching the shirt’s fabric, then he starts to get on his feet, grumbling, “I’d better...”
“It’s okay. Stay,” she asks.
Michael shifts again, the movement pushing his sleeve up a bit and uncovering some lines and curves of the tattoos. Lincoln observes the drawings, unable to tear his eyes from them.
“The dumb things... some, not all of them...,” he admits, “it was to avoid him turning as bad as me.” He looks at Sara’s face. “In Fox River, I asked you to watch him... after.” She nods, letting him know that she remembers, was and still is okay with that. “If things turn wrong, later, make sure he gets the hell out of here. Make sure the both of you get the hell out of here. I don’t want him to mess up again like when he promised Pope to turn himself in. He won’t always deal with a guy like Pope.”
They’re caught in a weird spiral - Michael persisting in saving Lincoln, and Lincoln persisting in protecting Michael - and Lincoln’s words make her smile.
“You do realize this is wishful thinking, don’t you?”
“But you will try, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” With one of the paper cranes in his hand, he gets up from the armchair, leans over Sara and pushes the origami into Michael’s half open mouth. “It should either choke him or wake him up,” he grumbles. “Hopefully, he’ll stop snoring.”
* * *
Comments are always welcome.
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Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Sara, Lincoln, implied Michael/Sara
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Word Count: ~ 695
Warnings: None
Summary: A hissing in-take of air and three small exhalations sounding like a purr. The sound is even, rhythmic in the quiet hotel bedroom.
Previous / Next part
Sara
A hissing in-take of air and three small exhalations sounding like a purr. The sound is even, rhythmic in the quiet hotel bedroom. Sara listens to it for a few minutes, involuntary matching her own breathing with it. In the end, she lets her head roll to the side and asks Lincoln, “Does he often snore like that?”
“As far as I remember, only when he’s really exhausted.” From his armchair a few feet away, he raises his head to cast a look at Michael who is asleep on the bed next to Sara. He stretched out on his stomach, fully clothed, an arm folded under his cheek. He doesn’t touch Sara, he barely brushes her, his elbow gazing her arm. “Not very sexy, huh?”
She doesn’t answer him. She’s not ready to admit that she finds that quite touching, the embarrassing little flaw as well as the fact that he trusts them - her - enough to let go. She just watches with fascination as Lincoln folds and folds again a paper sheet, his thick fingers surprisingly delicate and nimble. An origami crane. It’s his third since Michael fell asleep.
It’s Lincoln who demanded that they rest, that Michael should stop for a couple of hours and that he sleep for God’s sake, before he drives them crazy. Demanded that Sara lies next to him because she looks like hell - “Thank you, Lincoln!” He slumped into an armchair, as if he wanted to watch them and make sure they would obey, and he started to fold. He’s quite an odd watchman and Sara’s been a bit surprised; she thought that this need to control things, situations and people was Michael’s privilege. She can’t blame him, though. After three years not belonging to himself anymore, he does deserve compensation.
She suspects that a part of his interest for her is because Michael cares for her, and she’s totally okay with that. It’s reciprocal. A few days ago, in Fox River... she did... what she did because she was convinced of Lincoln’s innocence. However she’s honest enough to know that she wouldn’t have reviewed his file without Michael’s request.
“I would never have done for him what he did for me,” Lincoln suddenly drops without looking at her, his fingers creasing the crane’s beck.
“Not a lot of people would have done what he did.” He nods his approval and from his expression, she can see that he’s grateful she doesn’t try to contradict him or prove him wrong. “But I’m sure you’ve done quite a deal of dumb things for him too.”
Michael rolls onto his side, his hand groping around and finally resting on Sara’s stomach, right under her breasts. For a few seconds, Lincoln stares at the hand, at the splayed fingers slightly clutching the shirt’s fabric, then he starts to get on his feet, grumbling, “I’d better...”
“It’s okay. Stay,” she asks.
Michael shifts again, the movement pushing his sleeve up a bit and uncovering some lines and curves of the tattoos. Lincoln observes the drawings, unable to tear his eyes from them.
“The dumb things... some, not all of them...,” he admits, “it was to avoid him turning as bad as me.” He looks at Sara’s face. “In Fox River, I asked you to watch him... after.” She nods, letting him know that she remembers, was and still is okay with that. “If things turn wrong, later, make sure he gets the hell out of here. Make sure the both of you get the hell out of here. I don’t want him to mess up again like when he promised Pope to turn himself in. He won’t always deal with a guy like Pope.”
They’re caught in a weird spiral - Michael persisting in saving Lincoln, and Lincoln persisting in protecting Michael - and Lincoln’s words make her smile.
“You do realize this is wishful thinking, don’t you?”
“But you will try, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” With one of the paper cranes in his hand, he gets up from the armchair, leans over Sara and pushes the origami into Michael’s half open mouth. “It should either choke him or wake him up,” he grumbles. “Hopefully, he’ll stop snoring.”
* * *
Comments are always welcome.
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