Prison Break - Homes
Title: Homes
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael, Lincoln, Sara, Veronica, Sucre, T-Bag, Kellerman, Jane, Christina
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Prompt/Summary: There’s no place like home.
Word count: ~ 480
Notes: Written for the 2008 hiatus challenge #2 at pbhiatus_fic. The usual thanks to recycledfaery for the beta apply :)
To each their own: home is...
... a tiny two-bedroom apartment, hot in summer, barely warm in winter, filled with laughs and quiet discussion, occasional tears and shouting. The place where, no matter what, Christina felt secure and where she would make sure that her boys grow up and become good people.
... an imaginary, tidy condo smelling like wood, fresh paint and pancakes. Too bad Lincoln screwed up that one. Even worse, the fact that all the places Veronica visited with Sebastian were nothing more than anonymous apartments.
... Danny Hale’s lousy suburban house. Shit... Before Hale and his wife invited him over for dinner a few times, Paul had no idea, really no idea that this kind of stuff actually existed in reality. Most of the time, he tries not to wonder how their lives would have turned out if Kristin and he had grown up in such a place.
... something he’d rather not think about, because the only places Teddy has ever called ‘home’ were the hell he fled as soon as he was able to, and Susan’s house. In both cases, it ended quite badly.
... the life Jane left behind without looking back in order to protect the ones she loved. Still loves - hopefully the sacrifice wasn’t in vain and they’re still alive.
... the house - no matter where it is - in which Pam and Cam live, even if Alex can’t go there anymore. He still hopes it changes someday though, and that, as absurd as it seems, they be reunited. Not that he’s that unrealistic: he just needs something to hold on to.
... anywhere Maricruz and their baby are. Fernando is fully aware of how cheesy this sounds, but if somebody has something to say about it? Fuck’em. It’s not as if he cared.
... nostalgia - her father’s fancy residence, weirdly. Sara never realized that until she knelt at his grave and remembered the sounds of arguments and classical music, the smell of leather bound books and elaborate cuisine, the image of marble stairways and the memory of her always open-for-her old bedroom. Nostalgia, and something she’ll have to rebuild.
... a place unlike any other. Lincoln got it, or almost got it, a few times and lost it each time either because of dumbness or bad luck. He squeezes LJ’s shoulder hard enough to make his son squirm and protest, and swears to himself that things will be different, this time around. He won’t let either his son or his brother down again.
... something Michael can barely remember and hardly knows to be honest - even though for a while he wanted to believe that his ostentatious loft would be it. A distant, blurry memory evoking Mom, wool, Chicago, snow, warmth and hot chocolate. A renewed hope featuring Sara, Panama, scuba diving, heat and fifty cent beers. And in both cases... Lincoln, obviously.
-End-
April 4, 2008
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael, Lincoln, Sara, Veronica, Sucre, T-Bag, Kellerman, Jane, Christina
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Prompt/Summary: There’s no place like home.
Word count: ~ 480
Notes: Written for the 2008 hiatus challenge #2 at pbhiatus_fic. The usual thanks to recycledfaery for the beta apply :)
To each their own: home is...
... a tiny two-bedroom apartment, hot in summer, barely warm in winter, filled with laughs and quiet discussion, occasional tears and shouting. The place where, no matter what, Christina felt secure and where she would make sure that her boys grow up and become good people.
... an imaginary, tidy condo smelling like wood, fresh paint and pancakes. Too bad Lincoln screwed up that one. Even worse, the fact that all the places Veronica visited with Sebastian were nothing more than anonymous apartments.
... Danny Hale’s lousy suburban house. Shit... Before Hale and his wife invited him over for dinner a few times, Paul had no idea, really no idea that this kind of stuff actually existed in reality. Most of the time, he tries not to wonder how their lives would have turned out if Kristin and he had grown up in such a place.
... something he’d rather not think about, because the only places Teddy has ever called ‘home’ were the hell he fled as soon as he was able to, and Susan’s house. In both cases, it ended quite badly.
... the life Jane left behind without looking back in order to protect the ones she loved. Still loves - hopefully the sacrifice wasn’t in vain and they’re still alive.
... the house - no matter where it is - in which Pam and Cam live, even if Alex can’t go there anymore. He still hopes it changes someday though, and that, as absurd as it seems, they be reunited. Not that he’s that unrealistic: he just needs something to hold on to.
... anywhere Maricruz and their baby are. Fernando is fully aware of how cheesy this sounds, but if somebody has something to say about it? Fuck’em. It’s not as if he cared.
... nostalgia - her father’s fancy residence, weirdly. Sara never realized that until she knelt at his grave and remembered the sounds of arguments and classical music, the smell of leather bound books and elaborate cuisine, the image of marble stairways and the memory of her always open-for-her old bedroom. Nostalgia, and something she’ll have to rebuild.
... a place unlike any other. Lincoln got it, or almost got it, a few times and lost it each time either because of dumbness or bad luck. He squeezes LJ’s shoulder hard enough to make his son squirm and protest, and swears to himself that things will be different, this time around. He won’t let either his son or his brother down again.
... something Michael can barely remember and hardly knows to be honest - even though for a while he wanted to believe that his ostentatious loft would be it. A distant, blurry memory evoking Mom, wool, Chicago, snow, warmth and hot chocolate. A renewed hope featuring Sara, Panama, scuba diving, heat and fifty cent beers. And in both cases... Lincoln, obviously.
-End-
April 4, 2008