Prison Break - Nice to Meet You
Title: Nice to Meet You
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters/pairings: Michael, Lincoln, Sara, Veronica, Pope, Katie, Reynolds, Brinker, Nika. A tiny bit of Michael/Veronica and Lincoln/Veronica.
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 1065
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Author’s Note: This is an ensemble of very short ficlets written for the How Do You Do? Challenge at pbhiatus_fic. Thanks a lot to msgenevieve for the beta.
-I-
Michael had been faster, but Lincoln was older.
He definitely made first contact with Veronica a couple of minutes before his big brother got into the picture. Handed her over the jacket she’d forgotten a few yards away and found himself unable to find anything to say - not that this untimely silence was a first - enthralled by her scent and the way she looked at him.
But when Lincoln did get into the picture, Veronica smiled a very fraternal smile down at Michael and lifted sparkling, green eyes to look at Linc. Her smile became anything but fraternal, and Michael knew it was a lost cause. He felt his heart constricting a bit, which was an entirely new, really not pleasant sensation.
-II-
The first time they’d met, Henry Pope ushered her in his office, showed her a seat and politely offered her a cup of coffee. He called her Doctor Tancredi, not Miss Tancredi. He acknowledged the fact that she was the Governor’s daughter but didn’t really seem to care. While explaining the job to her and interviewing her, he sounded concerned but never patronizing, supportive but never protective. For a couple of seconds, she wondered how it would be to have this kind of father and she had to bite her tongue not to slip into overly personal answers.
After he’d hired her, he gave her two pieces of advice: never turn her back to an inmate, never fall in love with one. She thought those were good and sensible, although obvious and unnecessary, recommendations. She knew what she was doing, she knew where she would be working.
-III-
Samantha Brinker shook hands with Caroline Reynolds, strong, cold fingers lightly squeezing equally strong, cold fingers, and gave her a professional, sleek smile, while introducing herself.
“I’ll be advising and assisting you with different matters, Madam Vice-President,” she added matter-of -factly. No need to dwell on that one, right?
Reynolds’ detached eyes slipped on her as though she barely saw her and Samantha could almost, almost, understand where the woman was coming from. Had she been in Reynolds’ shoes, she wouldn’t have appreciated to share the power either. Well, to have it checked and controlled and sometimes decisions removed from her hands.
“It won’t be necessary. I already have all the assistance I may need.”
Samantha’s smile turned slightly amused; Reynolds would have to notice. “I’m afraid my help isn’t optional,” she explained, dropping the Madam Vice-President and any pretense along with it.
When she discovered the room from which she would carry out her advices and assistance, Samantha thought that they were at the beginning of quite a bumpy road.
-IV-
From Katie’s point of view, that new doctor was way too young, way too pretty, and had way too warm brown eyes. She would either resign after a couple of weeks or be eaten alive before even reaching that deadline.
When a convict twice as large as her yelled and spat in her face, she didn’t budge but waited that he’d been brought back to his cell to sit in a chair. Her hands shook a bit but she calmly laid them on the table, breathed in deeply and asked Katie about the medical history of this particular patient. Katie liked this - composure in discomposure, holding herself together, not pretending nothing happened but not allowing it to get the better of her either - and Katie thought that maybe, the kid will be okay.
When two years later, Sara came back to work the day after the riots with bruises on her neck and wrists - and possibly more bruises hidden under her clothes - Katie inwardly apologized.
-V-
He was her first for a couple of things. First patient sentenced to death, first convict she had to attend to in the SHU. Sara licked her lips with a hint of nervousness when the guard unlocked the door, squared her shoulders and stepped in.
He shouldn’t have been that impressive, not when lying on the narrow cot with his chin resting on his folded hands like a reprimanded kid and his butt poking in the air. Maybe it was the combination of his shorn head, his bulk and the lingering, aloof gaze he gave her. Or maybe just the fact that he knew the exact date of his death.
His pants were ripped near the back pocket almost all the way up, the rough fabric smeared with dried blood. With a sigh, she motioned him to push his pants down and asked the guard, “Wait for me outside, please.”
“I didn’t mind him,” he grumbled, his hands working on the waistband of his jeans.
“I did.” She pointed at his buttock. “How the hell did you get stabbed here?”
He threw her a glance over his shoulder, his eyes heavy with sarcasm.
“What do you think, doc?”
She blushed - and hated herself for it - when she took in the localization of the tearing in the pants, added one plus one and reached the inevitable conclusion.
Well. At least, this wasn’t a first.
“Right. And how are you?”
“Better than the other guy.”
-VI-
She was pretty. Not his type - too much make-up and hairspray, too long and too glossy pink nails, not enough clothes for a public place - but she was pretty and she was giving him a lap dance and he was a man. Things were bound to happen. Things he hadn’t planned for sure but things he should have seen coming. Really. It had been a while, engrossed he’d been in his planning and plotting, tattooing and devices of all sorts. She had her hands on his shoulders, her breast almost in his face and her thighs encaging his.
He kind of regretted his decision to approach her that way and breathed in deeply.
“Nika, right? I’d like to talk to you in private if that’s possible.”
She smiled but gave him a cold, hard glance while keeping gyrating above him.
“I don’t do this kind of thing.”
“It’s...” He felt heat rushing to his face, which was rather absurd. Something else he should have seen coming. “It’s not what I have in mind. Please? Just a drink at the bar?” He kept talking but he knew he got her at his please. Probably not the kind of courteousness she heard a lot around here. “You listen to me a few minutes. It’s all I’m asking of you.”
*
Feb 1-4, 2009
End notes: I intended to write at least a couple of other first meetings (namely LJ and Sara and Sara and Gretchen) but... I didn’t. I’m afraid I’m stuck in Season 1.
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters/pairings: Michael, Lincoln, Sara, Veronica, Pope, Katie, Reynolds, Brinker, Nika. A tiny bit of Michael/Veronica and Lincoln/Veronica.
Category: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 1065
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Author’s Note: This is an ensemble of very short ficlets written for the How Do You Do? Challenge at pbhiatus_fic. Thanks a lot to msgenevieve for the beta.
-I-
Michael had been faster, but Lincoln was older.
He definitely made first contact with Veronica a couple of minutes before his big brother got into the picture. Handed her over the jacket she’d forgotten a few yards away and found himself unable to find anything to say - not that this untimely silence was a first - enthralled by her scent and the way she looked at him.
But when Lincoln did get into the picture, Veronica smiled a very fraternal smile down at Michael and lifted sparkling, green eyes to look at Linc. Her smile became anything but fraternal, and Michael knew it was a lost cause. He felt his heart constricting a bit, which was an entirely new, really not pleasant sensation.
-II-
The first time they’d met, Henry Pope ushered her in his office, showed her a seat and politely offered her a cup of coffee. He called her Doctor Tancredi, not Miss Tancredi. He acknowledged the fact that she was the Governor’s daughter but didn’t really seem to care. While explaining the job to her and interviewing her, he sounded concerned but never patronizing, supportive but never protective. For a couple of seconds, she wondered how it would be to have this kind of father and she had to bite her tongue not to slip into overly personal answers.
After he’d hired her, he gave her two pieces of advice: never turn her back to an inmate, never fall in love with one. She thought those were good and sensible, although obvious and unnecessary, recommendations. She knew what she was doing, she knew where she would be working.
-III-
Samantha Brinker shook hands with Caroline Reynolds, strong, cold fingers lightly squeezing equally strong, cold fingers, and gave her a professional, sleek smile, while introducing herself.
“I’ll be advising and assisting you with different matters, Madam Vice-President,” she added matter-of -factly. No need to dwell on that one, right?
Reynolds’ detached eyes slipped on her as though she barely saw her and Samantha could almost, almost, understand where the woman was coming from. Had she been in Reynolds’ shoes, she wouldn’t have appreciated to share the power either. Well, to have it checked and controlled and sometimes decisions removed from her hands.
“It won’t be necessary. I already have all the assistance I may need.”
Samantha’s smile turned slightly amused; Reynolds would have to notice. “I’m afraid my help isn’t optional,” she explained, dropping the Madam Vice-President and any pretense along with it.
When she discovered the room from which she would carry out her advices and assistance, Samantha thought that they were at the beginning of quite a bumpy road.
-IV-
From Katie’s point of view, that new doctor was way too young, way too pretty, and had way too warm brown eyes. She would either resign after a couple of weeks or be eaten alive before even reaching that deadline.
When a convict twice as large as her yelled and spat in her face, she didn’t budge but waited that he’d been brought back to his cell to sit in a chair. Her hands shook a bit but she calmly laid them on the table, breathed in deeply and asked Katie about the medical history of this particular patient. Katie liked this - composure in discomposure, holding herself together, not pretending nothing happened but not allowing it to get the better of her either - and Katie thought that maybe, the kid will be okay.
When two years later, Sara came back to work the day after the riots with bruises on her neck and wrists - and possibly more bruises hidden under her clothes - Katie inwardly apologized.
-V-
He was her first for a couple of things. First patient sentenced to death, first convict she had to attend to in the SHU. Sara licked her lips with a hint of nervousness when the guard unlocked the door, squared her shoulders and stepped in.
He shouldn’t have been that impressive, not when lying on the narrow cot with his chin resting on his folded hands like a reprimanded kid and his butt poking in the air. Maybe it was the combination of his shorn head, his bulk and the lingering, aloof gaze he gave her. Or maybe just the fact that he knew the exact date of his death.
His pants were ripped near the back pocket almost all the way up, the rough fabric smeared with dried blood. With a sigh, she motioned him to push his pants down and asked the guard, “Wait for me outside, please.”
“I didn’t mind him,” he grumbled, his hands working on the waistband of his jeans.
“I did.” She pointed at his buttock. “How the hell did you get stabbed here?”
He threw her a glance over his shoulder, his eyes heavy with sarcasm.
“What do you think, doc?”
She blushed - and hated herself for it - when she took in the localization of the tearing in the pants, added one plus one and reached the inevitable conclusion.
Well. At least, this wasn’t a first.
“Right. And how are you?”
“Better than the other guy.”
-VI-
She was pretty. Not his type - too much make-up and hairspray, too long and too glossy pink nails, not enough clothes for a public place - but she was pretty and she was giving him a lap dance and he was a man. Things were bound to happen. Things he hadn’t planned for sure but things he should have seen coming. Really. It had been a while, engrossed he’d been in his planning and plotting, tattooing and devices of all sorts. She had her hands on his shoulders, her breast almost in his face and her thighs encaging his.
He kind of regretted his decision to approach her that way and breathed in deeply.
“Nika, right? I’d like to talk to you in private if that’s possible.”
She smiled but gave him a cold, hard glance while keeping gyrating above him.
“I don’t do this kind of thing.”
“It’s...” He felt heat rushing to his face, which was rather absurd. Something else he should have seen coming. “It’s not what I have in mind. Please? Just a drink at the bar?” He kept talking but he knew he got her at his please. Probably not the kind of courteousness she heard a lot around here. “You listen to me a few minutes. It’s all I’m asking of you.”
*
Feb 1-4, 2009
End notes: I intended to write at least a couple of other first meetings (namely LJ and Sara and Sara and Gretchen) but... I didn’t. I’m afraid I’m stuck in Season 1.