Sarah Tancredi played with the pencil between her fingers, staring off into space.Needless to say, the Tuesday/Fridayguard scared her when he randomly poked his head around the door to her office.
"Excuse me, Dr. Tancredi?"
Well, at least some of the guards knew how to treat her with respect. She smiled, anticipating the next words out of his mouth, knowing what they would be.
"Michael Scofield's here to see you?"
She liked Michael – he was nice. Like a...friend. Yes, she told herself, that's all it is. I like him as a friend. But she shook her head at the thought. Friends, Sarah? With a prisoner? No matter what her common sense told her, inside she kept looking forward to his visits. Especially on a day like today.
"Hello?" His low voice entered the previously hollow sounding room, easing the emptiness.
"Yes, Michael, come in." Walking over to him, she kissed him on his cheek, repressing how good it felt to feel his skin underneath her ... non-bleeding, for a change.
Michael fought the urge to touch his cheek where she had kissed him. She had kissed him. He watched her lips curve into a smile, while she hid her hands in her lap and started fidgeting. A sign, he knew, that she was nervous. Which made him grin. So she... likes me, huh?
"Don't get any ideas, Scofield. Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday." Her honeysweet voice cut through the emotional layer that lay thick all over the room. He groaned.
"Uh. Is it that time of the year already?" She gasped and put her hand over her heart in mock shock. A giggle escaped.
"But Mr. Scofield, Birthdays are very important in a person's life. You should celebrate!"
He smiled. "Oh, I will. Me and Sucre are holding a party in our cell tonight. The whole block's invited. We'll be playing Elvis' Jail House Rock." He wiggled his eyebrows misschieveously.
She laughed. "Okay. Laugh all you want. You just blew your chance on getting your present.."
He kinked his eyebrow. "You got me a present?"
"I did. But now," she sighs. "Seems like I'll just have to give it to Sucre instead. Too bad."
Her eyes had a devious twinkle in them, and he held them for a minute, before telling her in a low, sweet yet demanding voice: "I want it."
She tore her eyes away from his. "Too little, too late, Scofield."
She tried to roll her chair (it had cool wheels under it) over to the medicine cabinet, but he held her hand, stopping her from leaving. "Please."
Her skin burned under his touch, but she tried to deny the feeling. Friends – was all she could let herself say. Friends. Who give eachother birthday presents. "You're going to have to let me go, so I can get it, Michael."
His eyes shone. She got him a present. Sara, the woman in his plan (that's all he could allow himself to name her), had not only remembered his birthday, but had actually decided to get him something. "Hey," – she spun around – "You didn't get me a teddybear, did you?" He scrunched up his nose in disapproval.
"Shit." She looked hurt.
"Oh – I mean, I didn't mean...It's just not all that manly, you know. I don't want Sucre getting the wrong ideas about me...but I mean, if you did..buy..me a bear..I mean.." He stumbled. Nice going, Michael.
She laughed. "Take it easy, Michael. I didn't get you a teddybear."
He sighed with relief. "So, what did you get me?"
She thrust the package into his hands. "Open it and find out." She mumbled, her nervousness suddenly returning. Why did she get him a present again?
Eagerly, he wrapped open the velvetblue wrapping paper and revealed a small box. He opened it and took the 'real' present out. He twirled the leather bracelet between his fingers and gazed at it. It was beautiful in its simplicity. His thumb stroked the soft inside and found an inscription.
It was Gandhi's statement. The one he had used to make his first real connection with her. He looked up and took her chin in his hand, steering her avoiding eyes towards his. "Hey – I love it."
She smiled softly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He nodded his head. "Could you – help me put it on?"
Her hands reached out and took the bracelet from his fingers, her own flying acrosse his skin towards his right wrist. With all the care in the world, she tied it, then tapped the gift for emphasis.
"Well, Michael. I guess that concludes our business for today. Same time tomorrow."
Reluctantly, he stood up and walked towards the door, before turning towards her. "Doc – You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see."
Grinning, he closed the door, leaving her smiling like an idiot, and For he's a jolly good fellow resonating in her head.
"Happy Birthday, Michael." She whispered. But the room sounded hollow again, echoing his presence.