Hello everyone!
This is my first attempt at Prison Break fanfic, so I hope you enjoy :)
xxxxx
Sara stares down the contents of her duffel and wonders when, exactly, she started wearing so much blue.
She distinctly remembers other colors being a part of her wardrobe – reds, plums, greens – and yet, when she looks down, all she sees is blue. Holding back a sigh with the knowledge that she's lucky to have her own clothes at all, she is, nevertheless, stuck. Because the picture being broadcast of her all across the country is of her in blue, and she was sent back to change with the simple instructions of wearing anything but. Apparently, something as simple as a different color was enough to make recognizing a person more difficult.
Sara had been about to argue. After all, the human brain was a complex organ that could certainly recognize a face without the aid of consistent coloring. But arguing with Michael was useless and she was sure that he must have researched the claim, so here she was instead, glaring into a duffel full of clothes that were utterly useless at the moment. Sure, she would be happy and comfortable in her clothes once they got to Panama, but right now she was out of options.
The sigh fought its way out as an angry shudder. If he had known she would need something else, why hadn't he grabbed it while he was performing the stupid and needlessly dangerous task of getting her clothes from her apartment?
She whirled at the knock on the door, suppressing her newfound habit of picking up the heaviest object. They were safe, for now, and it was Michael's voice that came muffled through anyway. Although that didn't necessarily mean she voided the idea of hitting him with something heavy.
His face held tension and concern when she let him in. "You haven't changed yet?"
Blowing out a deep breath, she had to suppress the urge to hit him again. "Everything's blue."
"No," he said, crossing the carriage in two strides and bending over the bag, "no, I remember grabbing that one pink—"
"PINK?" She shrieked before coming back to her senses and taking a deep breath. When had she ever bought anything pink anyway? "I don't own pink, Michael, you—"
But he came back up with a pink tee dangling from his fingers. At least he had the decency to blush. "I know you don't like it, but it was the only thing in your closet that wasn't blue or green."
That shirt was from a lifetime ago, although it didn't show much on the garment itself. It was just as vividly pink as the day her father bought it for her. Thinking of the irony that her father was helping in her escape, even in this tiny way, she had to stifle a giggle.
"What?"
"Nothing, give it to me and turn around."
Swapping shirts quickly, Sara tossed the dirty one back into the duffel. Still completely blue.
"I'm done."
He turned back around to face her and she admitted it to herself. Blue was her new favorite color. Still, she was determined to find two or three other things when she got down to Panama, just for the sake of having them.
"It looks good."
"I don't need to look good, Michael, I need to look like someone else."
A small smirk tugged at his mouth as he played with her new locks. "You look like the hottest sorority girl I've ever seen."
"Shut. Up."
"Alpha Mu, really? You never told me about that."
"Not the type of thing that usually comes up in a doctor's office."
That sobered him immediately, and she was instantly contrite. Another part of her, though, liked knowing that she could put him off his guard.
His eyes were flat as he turned back towards the door. "Grab your bag, we're switching trains within the hour."
Bending to zip up the bag, she was surprised when she didn't hear the sound of the sliding door. His steely blue gaze was on her when she stood.
"I'm so sorry, Sara."
"You don't have to keep saying it, Michael."
"Really?" He asked, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Because I feel like I can't say it enough."
She stepped to him and pulled his hand from his face. Blue. So much blue. She couldn't imagine wanting to see any other color ever again.
"You came back for me. Actions speak louder than words."
He caught her hand before she let him go. "That wasn't just because I was sorry."
"I know," she told him simply, "but it still counts."