Sandcastles (Prison Break Fanfic)

Chapter Ten - The Evening

Their second night as a family didn't go as smoothly as the first.

Bryce sat crossed-legged on the bed, his parents on either side of him (his uncle was supposed to be there as well, but after having dozed off twice in the park, he had reluctantly taken a rain check). The sheets were gathered around his ankles (it had taken four stores to find the bed linen with the world map on it. Lincoln had been completely aghast to discover that his nephew didn't have a favorite animated character and didn't follow superhero movies, and he started planning a major movie marathon on spot, followed up by the real blueberry pancakes in the morning).

The books they had bought were displayed in front of the boy (three bags had been needed to bring them all home. Not all the books were for Bryce, though. As funny as it was to Sara and especially Lincoln, Michael made sure to get the best rated parental guides, for he was the kind of man who liked knowing minutiae of everything he dealt with). Bryce was choosing a story to be read tonight with such seriousness that Sara later berated herself for not having seen through it. But as she watched Michael pick up each book and read its back cover summary even though he, too, knew them all by heart by now, she couldn't do much more than wish this evening could sprawl into forever.

As it turned out, it wasn't the story Bryce was opting for, but rather the words in which to convey it. He took a deep breath and looked at both of his parents.

"Dad, Mom, I think I can sleep by myself tonight," he announced.

"Are you sure?" Sara asked, and her lips felt funny from the force with which she had pressed them together.

"I'll be fine, mom," he reassured her, and his eyes lingered on hers as though he really wasn't. But he kept a brave face as dad read the story, although he didn't comment as much as he usually did. The shape of his lips resembled mom's when dad promised to keep the door ajar, and that if he needed anything, he should just call. After mom kissed the crown of his head for the second time, he closed his eyes so as not to watch his parents leave.

Sara didn't say anything, but it was clear to Michael that Bryce's request unnerved her. They had shared just enough fragments of their life in France for him to have a pretty good idea why, and he wondered if she chatted away about the things they had bought and still needed to get so that he wouldn't bring it up.

He was about to interrupt her ramblings to tell her how happy it made him that they were so close, but then he realized they had never had anyone besides each other. She wouldn't take it like that, he knew that, and she wouldn't want him to think like that for a second, but mere thinking back to the years he had unknowingly missed pierced through him as though it was something he should feel guilty for.

He too sat down on the couch, close enough to be considered it was next to her, yet offering her the distance they kept tiptoeing around.

"You know, he fell asleep in my arms last night," he told her, successful at keeping the tone light and powerless to fight off a smile. He watched as distress left her lips until her expression matched his own.

"I didn't dare to move all night," he added.

She had kicked off her slippers and now sat facing him, her knees updrawn. Their son might not want cartoon faces on his bedspread, but he didn't seem to mind having them on his socks. Or perhaps, Michael now wondered, he liked wearing socks identical to mom's.

"You needn't have worried. Once he's out, he's out."

"So are you, apparently," he tried.

"Yeah, well, that may be one of few things he got from me," Sara laughed to his relief, but the inference lingered between them. He's just like you, she had told him.