Fishing
Title: Fishing
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Sucre, Michael Jr., mention of Michael, Sara, LJ, and Lincoln
Word Count 300
Summary: The man framing the sky is smiling. His skin is the color of coffee, his teeth perfect as the pearls the divers sometimes bring up from the bottom of the bay.
Author’s Note: eight8toes asked for a drabble based on Going Under, when Sucre asks Linc if there will be a job for him at the scuba shop. Oh, and she gave me the condition that Michael can't be dead. This is just the first thing I thought of. In this mini-universe, Michael and Sara (and Michael Jr.) lived happily ever after following the exoneration, and Sucre went his separate way until...now. I hope you like it, Daphnee.
He lies on his belly, hands extended into clear water, legs warm against the wooden planks of the dock.
He stays very still, and just below the surface of the water, the tiny minnow circles closer. He breathes in slowly through his nose, careful not to move a muscle. His hands look white as coral.
Behind him, he recognizes the voices drifting through the open dive shop door. Uncle Lincoln is the low rumble over the whoosh of air from an oxygen tank. His father is the deep chuckle that rolls like stones in a tumbler. His mother is only a dancing spot of light on the water that shifts to shadow as she crosses his path somewhere behind him. Sun, shade…sun, shade.
A truck door slams, but his hands remain still as a statue. And then: footsteps, followed by the sudden absence of the sun again as it’s blocked from view. The minnow darts away then, spooked. He turns and looks up, blinking.
The man framing the sky is smiling. His skin is the color of coffee, his teeth perfect as the pearls the divers sometimes bring up from the bottom of the bay. He bends down, and the corners of his eyes crinkle like Uncle Linc’s whenever LJ’s home for a visit.
“Hey there, little Papi.”
He doesn't know what to say to this, because it's not his name. The man winks. "I'm Fernando." He points down at the water, where the minnow has emerged again, tiny bubbles issuing from its mouth and popping on the surface of the water. "You know what I used to call your dad?"
When he shakes his head, the minnow disappears again.
The man grins impossibly wider, then leans in close, as though to share a secret joke. "Fish."
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Sucre, Michael Jr., mention of Michael, Sara, LJ, and Lincoln
Word Count 300
Summary: The man framing the sky is smiling. His skin is the color of coffee, his teeth perfect as the pearls the divers sometimes bring up from the bottom of the bay.
Author’s Note: eight8toes asked for a drabble based on Going Under, when Sucre asks Linc if there will be a job for him at the scuba shop. Oh, and she gave me the condition that Michael can't be dead. This is just the first thing I thought of. In this mini-universe, Michael and Sara (and Michael Jr.) lived happily ever after following the exoneration, and Sucre went his separate way until...now. I hope you like it, Daphnee.
He lies on his belly, hands extended into clear water, legs warm against the wooden planks of the dock.
He stays very still, and just below the surface of the water, the tiny minnow circles closer. He breathes in slowly through his nose, careful not to move a muscle. His hands look white as coral.
Behind him, he recognizes the voices drifting through the open dive shop door. Uncle Lincoln is the low rumble over the whoosh of air from an oxygen tank. His father is the deep chuckle that rolls like stones in a tumbler. His mother is only a dancing spot of light on the water that shifts to shadow as she crosses his path somewhere behind him. Sun, shade…sun, shade.
A truck door slams, but his hands remain still as a statue. And then: footsteps, followed by the sudden absence of the sun again as it’s blocked from view. The minnow darts away then, spooked. He turns and looks up, blinking.
The man framing the sky is smiling. His skin is the color of coffee, his teeth perfect as the pearls the divers sometimes bring up from the bottom of the bay. He bends down, and the corners of his eyes crinkle like Uncle Linc’s whenever LJ’s home for a visit.
“Hey there, little Papi.”
He doesn't know what to say to this, because it's not his name. The man winks. "I'm Fernando." He points down at the water, where the minnow has emerged again, tiny bubbles issuing from its mouth and popping on the surface of the water. "You know what I used to call your dad?"
When he shakes his head, the minnow disappears again.
The man grins impossibly wider, then leans in close, as though to share a secret joke. "Fish."