Title: Mistakes Come In Three Pairs

Summary: The boy's eyes narrowed and a flicker of disgust twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'm your son jackass."

A/N: Have had this idea forever! But just as a warning you should know that I probably won't update as much as I should. It's just an idea and I don't know how well it's going to work out.

Disclaimer: Pah I wish I owned Prison Break! 'Cept if I did, the show probably wouldn't do that well what with me not knowing much about television business and all :P

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Sucre leant into the guard break room and tapped on the blue iron door. "Bulls are coming." He hissed. There was a flurry of activity as everyone covered the whole and tried to find regular jobs to do.

T-Bag idly lifted a piece of insulation and slowly began to make his way across the room in an act to appear like he was actually working. The dark skinned guard – the one that had a special place of hatred in T-Bag's heart simply cause he chose the wrong skin to wear – walked in.

"Bagwell, let's go. You got a visitor." The activity stopped and the other cons looked at T-Bag who merely smiled.

"A visitor? For little ol' me? Ah shucks Badge, ain't this just the best day?"

"Ya ya, shut up and get movin'."

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The kid was already sitting there when T-Bag was escorted into the visitor's room. A steel barrier separated him from the kid, obscuring T-Bag's vision slightly but he could still take in the messy brown hair – like the boy had just rolled out of bed and come here – and the narrowed brown eyes like he disliked being in the prison.

"An' who might you be little man?" T-Bag drawled, watching the boy fidget. He couldn't be more than fifteen.

"You Theodore Bagwell?" The kid asked, a nervous edge to his Southern accent.

"Sayin' you don't know who you're visitin'?" The boy glanced around the room. He had deep chocolate eyes, 'meltin' eyes if they weren't so nervous.' T-Bag figured. "What's a little boy like you comin' to visit a guy like me? Just askin' for trouble."

"Ya well, she who must be obeyed was in a mood this mornin'." The kid grumbled sullenly. He jumped at the sound of an inmate's raised voice and twisted in his seat to see the source of commotion before once again turning around, his knee jiggling and his hands clenched together.

T-Bag starred at the boy, something about him was familiar…"Do I know you?" The boy snorted and finally looked T-Bag in the eyes, the nervous edge gone.

"No."

T-Bag studied him for a second before shrugging carelessly and leaning back. "Ya neva answered ma question boy. What ya doin' here?…If ya were thinkin' ya'd get somethin' by coming here then you came to the wrong place. Gotta ask for a conjical see." A smirk tugged at T-Bag's lips as he watched the boy's eyes narrow and a flicker of disgust twist his lips up into a sneer.

"I'm your son jackass."