Title: Mother's Little Helper
Rating: PG-13
Category: Het, Humor, Post-exoneration
Characters: Michael/Sara, Lincoln, LJ
Summary: After Michael is sent back to serve his original sentence, Sara realizes she's pregnant.
Author's Notes: Written for xshorty24x who wanted Michael, Sara, Lincoln, a baby, rock music and the color brown.
Thanks to becoolbec for the beta.
"What… What did you say?" he stutters, as his face turns white as a sheet.
"A baby, Michael. I'm pregnant"
"But how..."
"How did it happen? Do you really want me to spell it out for you?"
"Chicago."
"Yes, Chicago."
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The three of them had sat staring at the idle computer screen for a long time after the sound file had finished playing, when Lincoln got to his feet and announced, "Okay, kids, I'm gonna have a long, warm bath. Least I can do to make up for three years worth of public showers. I'll be a while."
"He's not very subtle, is he?" Sara said softly as she turned to Michael.
"Well, he's Linc," he replied with a timid smile. "Sara… About what you said…"
"You don't need to say anything."
"May I do something, then?" he asked, his smile growing coy.
"Michael Scofield, are you trying to seduce me?"
"Maybe," he breathed, as he closed the distance and tasted her lips again, and again, and then some more, until they were both lying on the hotel room's bed, entangled and breathless.
Later, as they both lay under the cover, enjoying their first true moment of peace since the first time they had met, Sara suddenly remembered about the other escapee she was sharing a fancy hotel room with.
"That's some long bath your brother is taking. Maybe you should check if he hasn't drowned?"
"Nope, I believe we won't see any more of him tonight."
"Do you think he locked himself in the bathroom to let us…"
"Yes, for all his bluntness, Lincoln can be quite considerate."
"Let's make the best of it then," she grinned as she rolled on top of him again.
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"I'm going to the store, do you need anything?" she heard Lincoln shout from the hallway as she studied her face in the bathroom mirror. She looked positively green, her hair was weird and her bra felt too tight. Not to mention she was late. Very late.
"Uh, yeah," she shouted back before retreating to her bedroom that was still packed with unopened boxes, hoping he wouldn't notice her dishevelled appearance in the current mess that was their new apartment.
"Well?" Lincoln hollered again.
"Can you get a pregnancy test?" she asked softly, half hoping he wouldn't hear. But sure enough, seconds later, the sound of Linc's heavy footsteps could be heard jogging to her
bedroom's door.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked, looking thoroughly bewildered.
"I think I might be pregnant. I need a pregnancy test."
"You're pregnant," Lincoln parroted incredulously, as if she had just informed him she was an anthropophagous alien.
"I think I might be pregnant," Sara repeated impatiently, hiding her amusement at his astonished expression.
"How… When…"
"Chicago."
"Oh. Oh," he repeated, as realization dawned on him. "Damn, I should never have left you kids alone."
"Don't patronize me," she barked as she crawled back in bed, waiting for the next wave of nausea to run through her.
"Well, at least it explains your crankiness."
"I'm not cranky, I'm sick," she corrected weakly, her voice muffled by the pillow she was pressing against her face in a desperate attempt to tame the queasy feeling that rose with each breath she took.
His face grew softer as he sat next to her. "Lisa was sick through most of the first trimester. I'll get you some crackers to keep your stomach full, it usually helped."
"Uh, thanks. Don't forget the test," she reminded him as he left the room.
"Right. And no more coffee for you!" he yelled before closing the front door.
"I said, don't patronize me!"
Half an hour later, a very nervous Lincoln dropped a full bag of pregnancy tests of all types and brands on Sara's bed.
"I didn't know which one I should take, so…"
She chuckled and grabbed the one on top of the pile. "This will do. Ok, then."
Box in hand, she made her way to the bathroom. Three minutes, the instructions said. Sara suspected they would be the three longest minutes of her life.
She left the offending stick on the countertop and went to join Lincoln in the hallway.
"Well?"
"Stop pacing, you're giving me sea-sickness. It needs another minute."
"It's been ten minutes already!"
"My God, you are such a child! I should have asked LJ to buy the thing for me. Settle down already, you're not supposed to upset pregnant women."
"If you're pregnant. If it turns out you're not, I'm going to give you hell for scaring me like that."
She glared at him before announcing, "I think the minute is up."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Hum, would you mind…"
Lincoln sighed dramatically. "Women!" he exclaimed as he rushed to the bathroom. "Two lines. Does it mean you are, or you aren't?" he frowned as he brandished the plastic stick in front of her face.
"It means I am. Oh God, I really am pregnant!"
"My little brother is gonna have a kid!" he added, mimicking her excited tone.
Sara's smile vanished at the mention of Michael. "Yeah. A kid he won't meet anytime soon."
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"Michael?" she repeated, snapping him out of his trance.
"Sorry, I'm just… shocked."
"Please hide your joy, it's overwhelming."
"No, I'm… I'm glad, really, it's just… Not the best time."
"Don't you think I know that?"
Michael's shaky hand grabbed hers on the small table that stood between them. "We're going to have a baby," he said firmly this time and beamed at her.
"Yeah," Sara answered, a tentative smile playing on her lips.
"Are you feeling okay? I mean, are you feeling sick, or…"
"I guess I'm a little emotional, but I'm still adjusting to the news. I get some morning sickness too. Lincoln is feeding me crackers all day long, he claims it helps."
"I tend to forget Lincoln's already been through all this."
"He's mothering me, you have no idea."
"Good. Remind me to make the nicest clay ashtray for his birthday."
"As long as you promise me you won't have to bleed all over the walls to join the workshop."
"Nope, my crazy years are behind me. I'm going to be a father, I have to smarten up."
"What do I get for my birthday?"
"A pasta necklace, of course. It will get you prepared for all those future Mother Day presents."
They both chuckled as their eyes locked, enjoying a stolen minute of complicity while the C.O. conveniently looked the other way. He bent over the table to caress her cheek as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"This baby is going to be beautiful."
"I miss you," she whispered, as a guard walked toward them.
"Scofield, visit's over," the man announced and tapped on the table, breaking the moment.
"I'll see you soon," Sara breathed as she embraced him and all but ran to the door, not wanting him to see her collapse in sobs. It was the pregnancy, she told herself, that made her so sensitive. Not the fact she was carrying an imprisoned man's child.
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"Will you stop brooding already?" Sara huffed exasperatedly at Lincoln who was tapping on the wheel, his jaw tight and his eyes firmly planted on the road to avoid looking at her.
"I'm just saying," he whined, turning to her, "I think Lincoln is a nice name."
"I figured, since you already gave the name to your son."
"You won't even consider it?" Lincoln pleaded once more.
"I believe there are enough Lincolns in this family."
"What about Aldo?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"This kid needs some roots."
"Look, I've known I'm expecting a boy for, what, half an hour now? Will you allow me to think about it some more?"
"I knew it was a boy all along," he mumbled.
"Because your strong suit really is obstetrics."
"I have a son and a little brother," he groaned, "I know about these things."
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"I'm going to have a son."
"You are."
"I'm going to have a baby. A little boy."
"Yes."
"Show me the ultrasound picture again."
Sara pushed the sheet of paper back in front of Michael and smiled. It was the first genuine, unadulterated smile she had seen him sport since he was arrested in Panama.
"He looks like you."
"How can you tell?"
"Look at those perfect cheekbones. I'm sure he has your eyes, too."
She leaned forward to study the blurry black and white picture. "I think he has your nose though, and your hairline. And look at that thing on his little shoulder, isn't it a gothic tattoo?"
"Are you making fun of me? Now? We're looking at the first clear picture of our child and you're mocking me."
"Sorry. Just look at his little nose. Doesn't he have the most beautiful profile you've ever seen?"
"I can think of someone who could compete with it," he murmured as a seductive smile appeared on his face.
"Don't talk to me about profiles now. I'm getting huge."
"You're not huge, you're five months pregnant."
"I'm a huge five months pregnant woman who can't find a bra her size, then. Look at me, I look like I just ran out from a Russ Meyer movie."
"Not that I mind," he smiled teasingly, forcing his eyes to rise from her swollen breasts to meet her gaze.
"I know. You've been staring since I got here. What is it with men and large breasts anyway?"
"Wait, men, plural?" he asked, frowning.
"I happen to live with two of those."
"Great, I'm missing out on all of the pregnancy and now my brother and my nephew are ogling the mother of my child. Tell them if they don't stop immediately, they won't get their handmade ashtray this Christmas."
"That will teach them," she laughed, pressing his hand in hers.
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Living with Lincoln and LJ had seemed convenient at first. It was a matter of saving money as they struggled to adjust to normal life again, and to avoid feeling lonely or isolated while Michael was serving his sentence. After he was cleared for Bill Kim's murder and the escape charges had been dropped, they barely had time to register the chain of events that had seen them moving back to Chicago, while Michael was sent to Fox River to purge his original sentence. LJ had moved back with his dad and since both considered Sara a part of their family now, it had seemed only natural to have her move in with the two of them. But sometimes, living with Lincoln seemed like much more than what she had bargained for.
"Will you turn that down?" she implored again, running a soothing hand on her stomach.
"Hell, no. That baby needs to know what Rock 'n' roll really is. And for your information, it's supposed to be played that way."
"Don't you think it's a little early to educate him on music?"
Lincoln's eye opened wide with shock. "It's never too early for the Stones!" he informed her as Jumpin' Jack Flash finished playing and he resumed clicking frantically on the stereo's remote control.
"Can you at least not play it so loud? You're exciting the baby. It's a soccer game in there."
"They call it football where Mick is from," Lincoln informed Sara's stomach.
"Damn, Dad, do you really need to play your prehistoric records so loud?" LJ whined as he joined them in the living room, barely awake and grumpy as ever. "Are you even aware that it's the 21st century now?"
"See," Lincoln exclaimed as he motioned to his son, "that's what happens when you don't teach them about good music right from the start!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Sara chuckled as she patted her baby bump. "No more dance music for you, you'll upset your uncle."
"Forget about dance music, anything recorded after 1986 is a waste of valuable decibels in his book," LJ supplied as he sipped on his morning coffee.
"Mick. Iggy. Lou. Those people knew what music's really about."
"Sure, Dad. Kids these days, they think they know everything but they just don't get it," LJ observed in a mock-serious voice as he grinned to Sara. He bent over the table to whisper, "If
you want to see him turn scarlet and stomp, just ask him what he thinks of the Beatles."
"Hey, you, get off of my cloud!" Lincoln sang along with the record, pointing a menacing finger at the very amused teenager.
"Well, dad, you can't always get what you want," he assessed victoriously as Sara collapsed in laughter.
"Ah, Linc, what a drag it is getting old," she managed to let out as she clutched her stomach.
"You're hilarious, all right. Now I really get what my brother sees in you," he spat before retreating to his bedroom to sulk, slamming the door behind him to shut out the bursts of laughter escaping the other room as LJ asked, "Think he's going to paint it black?"
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Something was off, she knew it. She had felt awful all day long, her contracting stomach not letting her get a second of rest. It was harmless, the doctor had said, nothing to worry about. Clearly, the man had never been through a whole day of contractions. However, by the time she got home from the clinic, the pain was becoming unbearable. She was getting ready to slide in a warm bath to alleviate the pain when she saw it. Blood. A lot of blood.
"Lincoln!" she yelled, as she rushed to put her clothes back on and stumbled out of the bathroom. "Lincoln, something is wrong!"
"Is it Braxton Hicks again?"
"No, I'm bleeding. It hurts like hell!"
"Oh God, oh man!" a whitening Lincoln let out as he ran by her side. "Lie down! Don't move. Stay right where you are, I'm calling 911."
"It really hurts," she sobbed, draping her arms protectively around her very bumpy stomach.
As Lincoln jogged to the phone to call an ambulance, Sara tried different approaches. Begging. Blackmail. Bargaining. Then begging all over again.
"If you do something stupid like get out of there now, Michael will never forgive me. You don't want that to happen, do you? You really are your father's son." she mumbled between two ragged breaths. "It's too soon to break out, baby. Please be patient."
"Seven minutes!" Lincoln yelled as he rushed back to her side. "They'll be here in seven minutes. Just hang on, okay? Deep breaths, they're on their way."
"It's too soon!" she cried as the pain intensified.
"I know, Sara, I know, just keep him in there okay? Hold my hand. Oww! Not that tight."
"How far are they now?" she moaned, clenching her teeth.
"Four minutes," he replied after shooting a glance at his watch. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered to her ear, letting her crush his fingers, "We're gonna be okay."
Moments later, Sara was taken away on a stretcher, Lincoln never leaving her side as the ambulance drove them to the hospital and she was rolled to the ER.
"I'm scared," she barely had time to tell him before she was taken in the exam room and Lincoln was told to wait outside.
"Me too," he murmured to the closing door.
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"You sure everything is alright now?" Michael asked once more, his shaky hand nervously tapping on the table.
"Yeah, but she needs to stay in the hospital until the end of the pregnancy."
"And the baby is okay?"
"Yeah. He's a little escape mastermind, just like his dad."
"She's only 6 and a half months along!"
"I know, man, I know."
"How's she feeling?"
"She's terrified, but she's hanging in there. She's not allowed out of bed more than half an hour a day to get cleaned up."
"I bet she loves being idle all day."
"Don't tell me. It's like she's blaming me personally."
"I'm sure she doesn't."
"She's still taking it out on me."
"That's because she doesn't have anyone else."
"Yeah, well, I'd rather she calmed her nerves on LJ. They keep ganging up on me, the ungrateful brats."
Michael chuckled at the image, before his face grew serious again. "Linc. Thank you."
"What for?"
"Taking care of her. Them," he amended with a grin.
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"You've got to get me out of here," she barked the second he entered her hospital room. His daily visits were becoming harder on him every day as Sara's patience got thinner.
"Well, hello to you too, Sara," he smirked as he went to sit next to her bed.
"I'm going crazy in here!"
"I brought you some more magazines and DVDs," he blatantly ignored her and handed her the bag.
"Die Hard, Twelve Monkeys and The Sixth Sense? Seriously? Don't you know any movie that doesn't star Bruce fucking Willis?"
"Okay, I take it your hormone levels are off the charts today so I'll let that pass, but for future reference, don't ever insult Bruce."
"I'm not hormonal, I'm thirty four weeks pregnant and I've been nailed to a hospital bed for five. I'm telling you, this baby'd better learn to grow lungs quickly because I'm getting him out of me the minute he's capable of breathing. I'm getting tired of being nothing but a life support machine."
"Nah, you are also the woman whose smile never fails to brighten my day," he replied, chuckling at her now positively ballistic glare. He was used to this little game; every visit went about the same. Sara would whine, moan and complain while he'd openly mock her recklessness. He secretly enjoyed it, but would never admit it.
"Would it kill you to bring something that might actually entertain me?"
"And miss out on you being this indignant? It definitely would."
"Don't worry about that, you'll always find new and creative ways to annoy me."
"Yeah, it's my special talent."
"At this level of obnoxiousness, it's more of a superpower, really."
"I wonder what my superhero suit would look like."
"Something ridiculous and way too ostentatious, just like you."
"Hey," LJ greeted as he entered and went to kiss Sara's cheek. "I see you two are going at it again."
"Don't blame me. It's not my fault if your father is a ridiculous man."
"Did he bring action movies again?"
"Bruce Willis' selected filmography," she nodded.
"And to think Uncle Mike pegged him as a lady's man"
"I'm right here!" Lincoln informed them as he crossed his arms against his chest and glared at them both.
"I swear, you're getting bigger every day," LJ went on as if he hadn't heard his father. "Are you sure there's only one cousin of mine in there?"
"That's precisely what every pregnant woman wants to hear," Sara replied as she grinned at the young man.
"How come when he tells you that, you're all giggly and when it's me, you snap?"
"That's the privilege of being young and devilishly handsome," LJ supplied with a smirk.
"Yeah well, at least I have a superpower," Lincoln brooded as they laughed at him once more.
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When the phone call woke him up at three in the morning, he immediately knew. Like a robot, he picked up the call that summoned him to the hospital and got dressed in less than a minute.
"LJ. LJ," he repeated as he shook the teenager's shoulder. "Wake up, we gotta go. It's happening."
"Okay, in a minute," he mumbled and turned to his other side, instantly falling back to sleep.
"Don't make me throw a bucket of water on you."
Fifteen minutes later, LJ had managed to put on a jeans and a t-shirt and was now raiding the fridge.
"What part of 'Hurry up' didn't you understand? We're going now."
"Let me grab some food! I can't be supportive with an empty stomach."
"They have vending machines in there. You've visited them so often you could find them in your sleep. Out. Now."
When they finally rushed into Sara's room, she was sweaty, dishevelled and apparently not in the mood for small talk.
"Somebody get the anaesthesiologist now!" Sara yelled as another contraction hit her, leaving her breathless and irate.
"I'm on it," LJ exclaimed and gratefully bolted out the room.
"Huh, Sara, I think you just broke two of my fingers," Lincoln let out through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the hand Sara had gripped.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, we should all focus on your fingers and forget about the child who's trying to push my bones apart," she barked. "Is it supposed to hurt this much?" Sara moaned as the pain rose again and her stomach clenched.
"Huh, I think so," he replied helplessly.
"Well, I'm not having this baby then. Take me home. Now!" she yelled, her wide eyes shooting daggers at Lincoln as a midwife entered the room.
"I'm sorry but it's too late for that. You're having this baby today," the woman said as she went to check the monitor. "The anaesthesiologist is on his way."
"I'm going to kill your brother for doing this to me! I hope this baby doesn't look like him at all."
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"He looks so much like Michael."
"Except his eyes. He has brown eyes. My eyes."
"I think he has your cheekbones, too. He's gorgeous," Lincoln added, smiling at the newborn who was staring at him intently.
"He really is."
"He's, like, totally bald," LJ noted. "How long until he grows some hair and stops looking like an alien?"
Sara glared at him before turning back to the baby in her arms. "Don't pay any attention to your cousin, he's in the middle of a teenage crisis."
"Hi, remember me? I'm Uncle Linc. The one who taught you all about Mick, Keith and Brian."
"How could any of us forget?" Sara mumbled, rolling her eyes.
"And I'm the cool cousin who your mom is secretly in love with," LJ introduced himself jokingly. "I'm the one who'll let you listen to the Beach Boys when our dads are away," he added, delighting at the look of complete outrage that instantly appeared on his father's face.
"Jesus, not the freaking Beach Boys!" he whined. "You'll ruin months of solid education."
"Don't listen to him," LJ leaned on to whisper near the baby's ear. "None of us do."
Lincoln was just barely refraining himself from stomping. "See? That's what you've got coming. Enjoy him while he can't talk."
"And if you behave and never, ever need your diaper changed when I babysit for you," the teenager went on, "I'll sing Yellow Submarine when you can't fall sleep."
"That's it! I disown you. You can pay for your college schooling with a part-time job at McDonalds, while I buy a shiny red car with your inheritance. Good luck with that."
"'Cause what you really need to find a woman is to strut around in a car that screams 'mid-life crisis' with your shirt wide open, while the stereo screams out some insanely dated British music. You're gonna drive the ladies wild."
"What I don't need is dating advice from a little punk who can't even tell the Who from the Kinks."
"Why couldn't I have a daughter? A gorgeous little girl who'd wear pretty dresses, have ribbons in her hair and wait a good twenty years before arguing about which band is legitimate or not?" Sara sighed as the pair went on bickering.
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They saw him in the distance, his thin silhouette walking towards them from the gray building as if in slow motion. The three of them stood together, their hearts racing with anticipation. As he got closer, Sara couldn't hold back anymore and ran to him, throwing herself into his open arms so hard he almost lost his balance.
"Oh my God, finally," she whispered, pulling him closer still to place a quick kiss on his lips before burying her head in the hollow of his neck.
"Not a second too early," he conceded with a lazy smile when she pulled away. Hand in hand, they walked back to Lincoln and the child who was studying Michael with a curious, intense stare.
"You must be Frank," Michael beamed to the little boy and kneeled to meet his eyes.
He nodded, unsure of what to do, before settling for grabbing his mother's knee to hide clumsily behind her leg.
"Don't worry, he's just shy," Sara reassured Michael as she ran her fingers through the child's red hair. "Say hello to your dad, Frank."
"Hellooo," the child said in a high-pitched voice, devouring Michael's face with penetrating brown eyes that made him look much older than he really was.
"Michael Scofield, finally a free man," Lincoln exclaimed happily as he embraced his younger brother in turn.
"Yeah," he replied absently, absorbed as he was by the sight of Sara picking up the boy. He felt as if in a bizarre twist of fate, every event of the past few years had meant to lead him here, standing in front of a penitentiary to meet his beautiful son for the first time and start over, with his bride to be and a lost and found brother. All he had lost and missed suddenly seemed like a very acceptable price to pay for what he had gained.
He followed the child's gaze and realised he was staring at the tattoo that peaked out of his long sleeve.
"I'll show it to you in the car, if you want," he offered, raising his arm to uncover another pattern.
"Come on," Sara said softly as she grabbed his hand with her free one. "Let's go home."
END