A/N: Hooray! I'm so glad to hear from some of you, and that you're enjoying this so far. Another chapter down, a lot more to go ;)
XXXXX
It was raining out, a light drizzle on a warm day, although the sky looked like it could open up any minute.
Michael liked a good storm; growing up in the midwest meant he was pretty accustomed to the thunder and lightening. They reminded him how small he was, how truly powerless in the face of mother nature, and gave him an excuse to stay curled up inside.
He'd spent most of the day inside anyways, looking over the listings for the houses again. They'd viewed two houses already and saw potential in both, but neither one was screaming at them. He couldn't articulate what was "wrong" with either, but they just missed that certain something. They'd look again tomorrow, and hopefully have better luck, but in the meantime, he was content to spend a rainy day with his family.
He sat at the kitchen table now, scrolling through various listings when Sara approached him, "You gonna stay there all day?" she teased, resting her hands on either shoulder.
He shrugged, "Maybe."
"It wouldn't hurt to go outside," he turned to face her, "even just for a little bit. I think Mike is feeling a bit cooped up."
Michael turned to look at his son, planted in front of the T.V. but his gaze was wandering, not seeming the least bit interested anymore.
"What do you suggest?" he asked, not sure what Mike's preferred rainy-day activities were.
She took a deep breath and then exhaled, "He likes to go for walks, but obviously can't go by himself. Well, he really only likes walks when it's too wet to play with his helicopter."
Michael smirked, "Sure I can take him, just around the neighborhood?"
"Yea, he likes it and it's quiet around here. Safe," she leaned in, "he usually becomes quite the chatterbox, just so you've been warned."
Michael was taken aback, his eyes narrowed in confusion, "Mike? A chatterbox?"
She nodded, "I'm actually being serious. I don't know if it's being outside, or walking side by side, you know, not facing each other, but he always says more to me on walks than any other time. I may have used that strategy in the past when I'm afraid he's hiding something from me."
"Hiding what?"
She waved a hand, "Oh you know, just kid stuff. Problems with another kid at school, whatever. I'm just saying, if you wanna get him to open up, go for a walk. Might be a good chance to see what's on his mind these days."
Michael nodded slowly, accepting the challenge, "Alright, yea I'll take him."
"Thanks," she kissed his head, "I'll start dinner while you guys are out, it'll be ready when you get back."
XXXXXXX
"So," Michael started as he and Mike walked down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk, "what did you think of the places we looked at yesterday?"
Mike tucked his hands into the pockets of his lightweight rain jacket, the hood raised over his head, "They were okay. I liked the entryway of the first one."
Curious, "The entryway?"
"Yea, the front door was really cool, the way the light hit the glass. And the stones all around it."
Michael was shocked, completely shocked that a kid would've noticed such things. Sure, Michael had noticed but engineering and design was in his blood…then again, maybe it was in Mike's too.
"I liked that too," he admitted, walking quietly next to Mike, "were there any things you didn't like?"
Mike considered this, "The bedroom was kinda small in one, smaller than what I have now anyways. But it had a really nice yard, it was all fenced in…"
Michael, cautiously, "Perfect for a dog."
Mike looked at him, "Yea, that's what I thought too."
"You had one before, right? I saw a picture of you with one…"
Nodding, "His name was Zues."
Michael's heart lurched. Of course it was.
"How long did you have him?" he wondered, "did you get him as a puppy or…?"
He thought back for a moment, kicking a loose stone on the sidewalk, "We didn't get him as a puppy…not that I remember anyways. I think Jacob had him already when mom met him."
That explains the name, he thought sarcastically. The mention of Jacob, however, did give him an opportunity to ask Mike what his feelings were regarding the man. He hated that he needed to know- that he had such a deep, unsettled feeling. Did Mike still care for Jacob?
He decided for a direct approach, "Do you miss him? Jacob."
"Mmm," Mike thought, "not really. I mean, it's kinda weird that he's just gone all of a sudden, but it feels normal living with you. I don't know…living with mom and Jacob was always good…but this is good too. I always wanted to get to know you."
Michael's chest constricted. Things had been good for Mike, living with Jacob hadn't traumatized him. He was genuinely grateful for that; not that he wanted Mike to love the man who'd manipulated him and used Sara, but he was glad that, despite all of his terrible qualities, Jacob hadn't been an abusive or neglectful father figure.
As for the "I always wanted to get to know you," Michael doubted that Mike could ever know how much those words meant to him, and how sorry he was that he couldn't have been around sooner. This kid, his son, had occupied his thoughts so often when he was in prison, a faceless child out in the world who he knew nothing about, was one of two things that kept him going on even the darkest of days. To hear that the feelings were mutual…
"I always wanted that too," he told him, "more than you know."
Mike smiled his easy smile, and they continued walking. The sky was darkening, and it was growing angrier. The wind had started to pick up noticeably, and Michael had the gut feeling that a storm was brewing, "Hey, I think maybe we should turn around, looks like it might storm soon."
"Ok," Mike agreed and followed his lead, "and we don't wanna be late for dinner."
A smirk, "Nope, we certainly can't have that."
The few blocks returning home were quicker than their leisurely stroll on the way out. Miniature streams were trickling off the sidewalks and forming rivers, flowing down the road alongside the curbs. Michael heard the pitter-patter of rain on their jackets accelerating, dripping off their hoods and in front of their faces as they lowered their heads, keeping the water droplets from pelting their eyes.
When they approached the house, Sara opened the door and ushered them in, "I was just about to text you," she told Michael as she helped Mike out of his coat, "we've got a storm warning now."
"Oh?" he wondered as he took off his jacket and gave it a shake out onto the porch.
"Yea, they're saying thunder and lightening, maybe some hail…at least an inch of rain tonight."
"Geez, guess we turned around at the right time."
"Do we have to go to the basement?" Mike asked.
"Not yet," Sara assured, "there aren't any tornado warnings so we're okay. For now, we can have dinner like normal, then maybe watch a movie together, yea?"
Mike nodded and slipped off his shoes, which were soaked.
"Get your socks off," Sara laughed as he squished wet footprints along the hardwood floor.
He did as instructed, and tossed them onto the carpet.
"Hey-" Sara scolded, and he grabbed them immediately, taking them to the laundry room instead, "thank you sir," she praised, then rolled her eyes to Michael.
He chuckled and followed suit, taking off his wet shoes and socks, and putting the socks in the laundry, "Dinner smells good," he noted, suddenly feeling a rumbling in his stomach.
"Just got done too," she told them, the hearty soup she'd made was ready to eat, the perfect thing for a rainy day.
They all sat down and enjoyed the meal, although Michael's mind was still chewing on Mike's words from earlier. He wanted to share it with Sara, wanted them both to be on the exact same page with how Mike was feeling, and what his thoughts were. That would have to be saved for later though, when they were alone. For now, settling in for a movie sounded like a great way to end the day.
The rain poured down heavily, an audible roar even over the sounds of the film. About halfway through, the sound changed- more staccato, sharper.
"Is that hail?" Sara wondered aloud.
"Lemme see," Michael stood up and went to the window, pulling back the blinds. He blinked a few times as he looked out through the haze. It wasn't hailing, but something else concerned him, "uh…no…"
Sara, sitting up straighter, "What's wrong?"
The whole driveway was flooding.
That doesn't make sense, he thought, the drains in the street should definitely be able to handle this. It hadn't been an unusually rainy summer, hell- it had been drier than normal, everyone complaining about having to water the crap out of their lawns.
"Uh, nothing it's just-"
Sara was standing up and by his side now, looking for herself, a breathy, "What the hell."
"I'll go out and check."
"Be careful," she urged, watching from inside as he grabbed his coat and boots, opening the front door and bracing himself for the assault of raindrops.
He trudged down to the street, as quickly as he could, and wiped the rain out of his eyes. The wind was blowing hard, making the experience even more disorienting. He got to the drain just at the end of their driveway, near the mailboxes. He bent down and brushed leaves and twigs, along with other stray debris, off the grate. Rain was pouring into it but obviously wasn't going anywhere. It was clogged.
He sighed and looked around, finding a tree branch that had been blown off in the storm. Using the thicker end, he stabbed into the drain, trying to dislodge whatever was there.
He watched as leaves and grass clippings and grime gave way, revealing a dull rainbow of faded…was that paper? He squinted and looked closer, reaching an arm down to investigate, and grabbed at what he could.
His hand emerged with a fist full of origami birds.
The sinking feeling in his chest practically knocked him over, his legs suddenly weak, head spinning, and a deep sadness taking root in his heart. How many were down there? His movements slowed, his arms not feeling like his own as they dug into the mess, pulling out disheveled bird after bird, the writing faded and bled from moisture and time. Had Sara gotten any of them?
Jacob, he thought with a bitterness he feared could consume him, his eyes glaring intensely away and at nothing in particular, the rain blurring his vision.
Writing those messages to her- their special way of communicating, their language, had given him a shred of hope while he'd been away, and she'd never even seen them. Not one.
Sara poked her head out the front door, hollering above the roar, "You okay?"
Not even close, he thought, his body feeling so heavy, so tired…so defeated. He couldn't reply- couldn't bother himself to lie. He knew anything he said would come across as dishonest, and she'd see through it, so he didn't speak at all.
"Michael?" she asked again, and his head lowered, his body falling back onto his seat to rest, not caring that his clothing would be soaked, and let the rain wash over him.
What felt like a second later, Sara was next to him, her hair wet and strung across her face, kneeling beside him, her hand on his shoulder and a concerned voice, "Michael? Look at me. Are you ok?"
No verbal reply, but he held up the bird that was still in his hand; the paper was robin's egg blue, and the writing was faded.
"What…?" Sara took it and squinted through the rain, looking at him for an explanation.
He nodded weakly towards the drain, "That's what was clogging it."
She went to the drain and peered in, grasping what had happened, and turned to him, shocked, breathless, "How many…how many did you send?"
"Hundreds."
She processed this, "And he just," she made the motion of throwing something into the drain, and scoffed.
He saw the fire in her eyes ignite, the soft brown was now ablaze and spreading quickly, but her words surprised him, "I'm so sorry."
He scooted closer to her, "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I never wrote back, I never told you…I could have told you about Mike," then with emphasis, "I could have known that you were alive."
"Which is exactly why he never let you see them."
She sighed, shaking slightly on the exhale, emotion wracking her body. Michael stood and pulled her up with him, wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her neck. The rain continued to fall, but they stood in silence, grieving together for the years they'd lost, the years that had been taken from them. It was almost too much to comprehend, how such a simple action, one whoosh of a piece of paper, completely derailed their chances of being a family again sooner.
"I want to read them," she said finally, "I want to find every single one, and I want to read them."
Gently, "I think they're all too faded by now…all the rain and everything."
"I still want to try," she told him stubbornly.
He smirked at her strong-willed nature, "Ok, but…maybe tomorrow?" he looked up at the sky, indicating that they should probably go inside. He'd managed to unclog the drain enough that it was working, but they were both soaked from head to toe.
A moment later, a defeated, distant, "Fine," and she started to turn towards the house.
"Hey," he held her arm and pulled her back to him, kissing her gently, tasting the rain on her lips, "I love you…and just know that that is a pretty good summary of what they all said. That I was still alive, I missed you, and I desperately wanted to meet our son…and that I hoped you were both okay," he paused, "and that I'd never give up hope of coming back to you."
She perked up a little bit, a coy gleam in her eyes, "Oh, is that all?"
He shrugged, "Pretty much."
She smiled and leaned into him, taking his lips in hers again, the warmth of the kiss contrasting with the coolness of the storm and pulling him in, numbing him to the outside world. With her arms around his neck and their lips joined, he tried to forget his anger. After all, his origami wishes had come true; he'd made it home to them, and they were both okay.
XXXXXX
"You can't sit here," a large, muscular man informed Jacob as he sat down next to him in the chow hall.
"Just give me five minutes, two even," he insisted.
The man's name was Justin, and Jacob had been eyeing him for a while as a possible ally. Jacob knew that his odds of befriending a black man were slim, so that had already cut his field down into less than half of the prison population. Unfair as it was, he knew that the races didn't mix well within these walls, and he'd be better off not even trying. The issue was, as far as he could tell, not many white men had strong alliances or gangs. Justin stood out to him because he had a close few, a tight-knit group of four guys that always stuck together, and no one seemed to bother them.
It had been an interesting, insightful task- to observe all of the inmates and determine which group gave him the best chance for survival. Luckily, so far, no one aside from T-bag had given him any trouble. Granted, it had only been a few days, but this was the first time he was really sticking his neck out. It was unsettling, but he maintained his composure well, sat down, and presented Justin with a deal.
"I need allies," he told him upfront, "I'm sure you heard, but T-bag has it out for me-"
"-yea I heard he roughed you up pretty bad," Justin agreed, taking a bite of his roll.
"If that's what you call stabbing me in the neck, then yea. He tried to kill me, and he'll try again. That's why I need a few friends in here."
"And what's in it for me, for us?" he gestured to the three other men around him, who were looking at Jacob expectantly.
"I can offer money," he told them, "wired into your account every week, and in exchange, I get your protection. T-bag doesn't come near me."
"Hold up," he leaned back in his chair, "I can't control where the man goes-"
"-okay, but T-bag needs to know that you've got my back. He's alone, as far as I can tell-"
The darker haired man at the table, "-That won't last long."
Jacob tilted his head in confusion.
"I've been here a while," the man explained, "was here the last time T-bag was…he's always got a gang and someone tuggin on his pocket. Won't be long before he makes some new friends again."
Jacob looked up and around, scanning the room for T-bag. He found him, standing over a younger, prettier looking man who was trying like hell to ignore him and eat his food, but T-bag was persistent, looming over him with a sly grin, slowly starting to wear the boy down.
Damn, Jacob thought, realizing that the situation was more urgent than he'd anticipated.
"Ok, look," he started again, "I know you can't control his actions, I get that. All I need is for him to know that I have allies, and I'll pay you for it. I don't expect us to be buddies I just need to not be alone."
"How much?" Justin asked.
Jacob considered. His pockets were deep, and he could certainly pay a lot, at least until T-bag knew where he stood, and his new alliance gave Jacob the time to actually develop a rapport with them. After a while, perhaps they'd warm up to him and would let him slide by without making a payment.
"A hundred a week, for each of you," he offered, and watched the impressed looks, exchanging glances.
Justin spoke for the group, "Deal."
XXXXXXX
Veronica opened the front door for the Scofields, "Hey guys! I'm so glad you could make it."
They'd been able to arrange a dinner, and Veronica had offered to host. Cooking was strangely easier for her than going out to a restaurant, simply because of Charlotte's rambunctious nature. At home, she could run around outside after she finished eating and maybe Mike could help entertain her for a while. Plus, Lincoln was happy to grill and it would give he and Michael a chance to chat.
"Us too," Sara told her with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Maybe she's tired, Veronica thought, and brushed it off for now. She looked at Michael, who was taking off his shoes, and noticed a strange lackluster to his posture and overall vibe. Hmm.
"Uh, Mike," Veronica addressed the younger Scofield, "Charlotte is out back if you wanna join. She got a new remote control truck," that's probably in the bushes by now, she added in her mind.
Mike's eyes lit up and he walked softly to the backyard to investigate. They both loved trucks and planes and all things remote-controlled. It was good- her little tom-boy had a cousin who was interested in some of the same things.
Lincoln was already grilling burgers and Michael went out to join him. Vee took the opportunity to check in with Sara, "Hey," she touched her arm lightly, "how're things with you guys?"
Sara seemed distracted, "What? Oh, fine."
Veronica wasn't the least bit convinced, and moved to the fridge to grab Sara a can of sparkling water. They always kept some around for her, not wanting alcohol to be the only drink available aside from tap water and apple juice.
"Here," she handed it to her and watched as she cracked it open, not drinking any, and continuing to stare into space, "ok, seriously what's going on?" Veronica wondered as she moved more directly into Sara's eyeline.
Sara's gaze did meet hers, and searched, deciding that it was no use to hide anymore, and sighed, "Last night we found," she paused, "remember how I told you about the origami birds Michael used to make? The ones he'd send me with codes and everything."
A small smile, "Yea, I remember."
"We found a bunch…probably at least a hundred, uh, in the storm drain just outside our house…the one under the mailbox."
Veronica's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Uhh?
Sara took a sip before continuing, "He wrote me while he was away. He sent me so many of those things and Jacob threw every single one down the drain without even telling me."
Her face fell, "Oh Sara, I'm so sorry."
"Yup," she nodded bitterly, "I could've known, I could've known this whole time that he was out there somewhere, and that he was alive. I never would've remarried," she insisted, "if I'd had even a sliver of hope that he was out there I would've-"
"-please tell me you aren't blaming yourself."
When Sara met her eyes, her gaze was hardened, silent.
"Sara-"
"-I'm not blaming myself," she clarified as she lowered her head, shaking it, "but I am mad at myself." Then with a tone of disbelief, "Did I really never get the mail? Ever? No, I did, and I just was so incredibly unlucky to never get it on a day that one of those messages was delivered."
"Seven years," Veronica whispered softly, processing all she'd just heard, "I'd say you could have Jacob arrested since tampering with someone else's mail is a felony but-"
Sara scoffed, "-he's already in for murder so…"
"But would it make you feel better? You could still report it, have it on the record somewhere. Seriously, Sara. That's a felony."
She considered, though still sounding defeated, "How could I prove it?"
"You've still got the birds right, or some of them anyways?"
"Yea. They're pretty faded though, and a little torn up."
"If there are any that are still legible, and you can read enough to know that it was from him to you," she tilted her head back and forth and shrugged.
"I guess," Sara passed the can to her other hand, "I don't know…might be more trouble than it's worth," she paused, "I'm just upset about…about all the time that we lost, and there's nothing I can do now to get it back," after a moment, she repeated, "I could have known sooner."
Veronica didn't know what to say that could possibly make it better, so she just moved closer and put an arm around her, hoping that the sight of the guys laughing and the kids playing would ease the pain, if only a little bit.
