Prison Break - For Twenty-Four Hours
Title: For Twenty-Four Hours
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael (Michael/Sara, Lincoln)
Category: Het
Rating: G
Word Count: ~ 275
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: He has no regrets. (Post-series, non-epilogue compliant.)
Prompt by lizparker6: Michael/Sara, the day Michael Jr. was born (the whole day, 24 hours).
In my fanon/personal canon, Michael was not here at all the day Michael Jr. was born. I still don’t know exactly what happened after Miami Dade - fanon speaking - but in my mind, he didn’t meet up with Sara and Lincoln before a few months or even years. So... I dwelled on that.
Many thanks to foxriverinmate for the read-through.
He has no regrets. Maybe in twenty-five or thirty years when he becomes a grand-father? Or way before that, when he shows up on Sara’s doorstep a few months from now, and she welcomes him with shock, watering eyes and a stinging slap, or possibly a punch, to his face? But today, he has no regrets. It’s all for the best - hide, keep a low profile, keep them safe.
He knows when Sara goes into labor. He knew right from the start that he wouldn’t be here for her, and that’s okay. He made a choice - the lesser of two evils - took a decision, and he clings to it for the greater good of everybody. Plus, Linc is with her, and Linc is more awesome in those circumstances than anyone would imagine.
It lasts. Hours and hours. Who would have thought that a child born of Sara Tancredi and Michael Scofield would have such a strong mind of his own and would get out of here when he decides it? Michael can hear Lincoln’s sarcastic comment, can see the way he leans down towards Sara, can feel the warmth of his hand holding hers. He can imagine all that, at least, and of course, it’s his punishment for not being here for her. He gladly accepts it.
For twenty-four hours, he doesn’t move, doesn’t sleep, hardly drinks or eats. He lies on his bunk, and breathes slow and deep. Projects for himself in minute details the picture of what’s happening in a clinic hundreds of miles away, his own little mirror of Tantalus - a cab, a plane, a bus and he could be over there.
He has no regrets.
-End-
--Comments are always welcome.
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael (Michael/Sara, Lincoln)
Category: Het
Rating: G
Word Count: ~ 275
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: He has no regrets. (Post-series, non-epilogue compliant.)
Prompt by lizparker6: Michael/Sara, the day Michael Jr. was born (the whole day, 24 hours).
In my fanon/personal canon, Michael was not here at all the day Michael Jr. was born. I still don’t know exactly what happened after Miami Dade - fanon speaking - but in my mind, he didn’t meet up with Sara and Lincoln before a few months or even years. So... I dwelled on that.
Many thanks to foxriverinmate for the read-through.
He has no regrets. Maybe in twenty-five or thirty years when he becomes a grand-father? Or way before that, when he shows up on Sara’s doorstep a few months from now, and she welcomes him with shock, watering eyes and a stinging slap, or possibly a punch, to his face? But today, he has no regrets. It’s all for the best - hide, keep a low profile, keep them safe.
He knows when Sara goes into labor. He knew right from the start that he wouldn’t be here for her, and that’s okay. He made a choice - the lesser of two evils - took a decision, and he clings to it for the greater good of everybody. Plus, Linc is with her, and Linc is more awesome in those circumstances than anyone would imagine.
It lasts. Hours and hours. Who would have thought that a child born of Sara Tancredi and Michael Scofield would have such a strong mind of his own and would get out of here when he decides it? Michael can hear Lincoln’s sarcastic comment, can see the way he leans down towards Sara, can feel the warmth of his hand holding hers. He can imagine all that, at least, and of course, it’s his punishment for not being here for her. He gladly accepts it.
For twenty-four hours, he doesn’t move, doesn’t sleep, hardly drinks or eats. He lies on his bunk, and breathes slow and deep. Projects for himself in minute details the picture of what’s happening in a clinic hundreds of miles away, his own little mirror of Tantalus - a cab, a plane, a bus and he could be over there.
He has no regrets.
-End-
--Comments are always welcome.