Sandcastles (Prison Break Fanfic)

Chapter Three

Of course he would show up early, Abigail Spencer sighed when she saw Michael Scofield standing at the reception desk in the Agency's lobby. The coat and tie he wore with perfect posture made him look like he was on a night out, not about to dig into grim files of death. But perhaps, she mused, it was his body armor, an assurance that he could keep the outside at bay. Her father was the same way, refusing to put on casual attire even in his downtime.

How her father would smirk if he was here, she thought. You will never make a good agent, he had wailed when he found out she had applied for the job. If you want to help people, volunteer. As soon as you are on a payroll, the collateral damage comes into play. At the time she had thought his own arrogance once again blinded him to the fact that she did know what came hand in hand with the badge. Her heart may have been beating all those years, but it hadn't made her significantly alive in her father's eyes or cares.

She shook her head to exile her father out of her mind where he had no place being.

In the elevator, they were joined by a woman and an invisible cloud of her indiscreet perfume. If Michael noticed how uncontrolled her glances in his direction were, he didn't show it. His eyes remained on his wristwatch, as if determined to count the seconds of the elevator ride. Given his reason for coming in today, Abigail wouldn't blame him if any banality was a welcomed distraction. She bit her lower lip and wondered again whether offering Michael Scofield, a man already tortured by his past, an opportunity to face his biggest demon, made her one of his tormentors.

The woman got off on the second floor. As soon as the door closed again and before Abigail could prudently check in the mirror whether her recurring doubt left a lipstick stain on her teeth, Michael inhaled so intermittently that he might as well scream out of the pain her precipitate decision had caused him.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked her, his voice barely above a whisper. She sought his eyes in the mirror, but they obstinately faced the floor.

Her father would lie. It was what he was best at, after all. Sometimes he wondered if he himself still knew what the truth was. She could lie, too – perhaps should. Michael wouldn't care, even if he saw through her words. But the reason he was here today was so personal, so heart-rending, she couldn't bring herself to lie.

"You know, I could never figure out why they gave me your case," she told him. "Scofield and Burrows. It's the biggest case of a decade, decades. Maybe there has never been a case of such magnitude. You'd think someone in the higher ranks would get it, as a thank you for your service before the retirement. And they give it to a complete rookie. I like to think they did so because the Agency is starting afresh, too. And I don't think a new start is possible when there are still unanswered questions."

She led him to a small room on the fifth floor. It was right at the end of the hallway, following half a dozen offices. The original plan had probably meant for it to be an office as well, but once the construction was finished, it ended up being a room barely big enough for a desk and a chair. They mostly used it for storage.

Michael didn't care for any of it. His attention was drawn to a brown file on the desk – or, rather, how devastatingly thin it was.

"When you said you found some files," he said, "I thought you were understating it."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I am still surprised how little there is on her, given her being a governor's daughter and all. But I guess after what happened to Bruce Bennett and with everyone focusing on the Company and Scylla ..."

No one could spare time to look for her, Michael finished her words in his mind. And as the leader of the team, neither could he.

"Anyway, if you need anything ..." she said, turning on her heels. She wanted to wish him good luck, just out of habit, but caught her words just in time. What kind of a monster would say something like that to a man about to search for the remains of the woman he loved?