A/N: Hey guys! So this is something that popped into my head before I fell asleep last night. Just a short oneshot about Michael's thoughts on Sara set during the episode 1.10 Sleight of Hand.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with Fox or Prison Break.

Please read and review!

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He had always looked forward to his visits to the infirmary. To the more quiet and more comfortable atmosphere. To being away from the usual dangerous inmate crowd.

But, most of all, he had always looked forward to seeing her.

Her beautiful long auburn locks, her mesmerizing hazel eyes. That warm and caring smile of hers that made his day a whole lot brighter. Her.

And it was to his displeasure that the day he needed her to help him clear his mind, to make him feel like a normal person and not some criminal, she wasn't herself. She wasn't quite as bright and cheery as usual.

'You seem distracted.' She said as she bandaged the wound in place of his two missing toes.

'Got a lot on my mind, I guess.' Michael replied passively as he played with the chair he was sitting on.

'Got anything to do with the people who took these toes?' Sara asked, placing a piece of medical tape on his now wrapped up foot.

'Nice flowers.' Michael said, changing the subject and glancing to the arrangement on the table to his left.

'Right.' Sara retorts lifelessly, avoiding any eye contact with him.

'Do we have an admirer?' Michael asks playfully, as a small pang of jealousy shoots inside him.

'They're from my father.' Sara says in reply.

'Ah, what's the occasion?' Michael asks curiously.

'It's my birthday.' Sara replies, still avoiding eye contact.

'Today?' Michael asks.

'Mm-hmm.' Sara confirms softly.

'Happy Birthday.' Michael says, smiling.

'Thank you.' Sara says, seemingly disappointed.

Michael pauses and notes the disappointment in her voice.

'Okay.' Michael comments, letting out a small chuckle.

'Hm.' Sara lets out, in a way questioning his chuckle.

'Nothing,' Michael says, defensively. 'Birthdays aren't usually a sore subject, that's all.'

'Unless the celebrant is feeling her age, which, I don't see how you could be.' Michael continues.

'I'm 29 years old, Michael. I'm not feeling my age.' Sara comments.

'Its just that out of those 29 birthdays, my father has managed to see me on precisely… 6 of them.' Sara explains. 'So, I get flowers instead.'

'Flowers that end up dead and in the trash a week later.' Sara continues, 'Sounded bitter, huh?'

Michael nods and says, 'Kind of.'

'It's not a big deal.' Sara mutters, taking her view off the medical chart she had been scribbling on. 'You are all set, I will see you tomorrow.'

'Okay.' Michael says, getting off the medical exam table and walking to the door.

'I'm sorry you feel that way. About the flowers, I mean.'

--

That night when he was lying on his bunk, he couldn't help but think of that visit. Think of her.

She hadn't really smiled that whole visit. She barely even looked at him for Pete's sake. She just wasn't herself.

And it was up to him to change that.

'Sucre, I need that magazine.' Michael said while lying on his bunk.

'What for, Papi?' Sucre inquired, handing the magazine to him.

'To tie up some loose ends.' Michael replied with a rather serious look on his face. By that time he was already scanning through the magazine.

"'I ain't even gonna ask.' Sucre mumbled, not bothering to get into the complicated details of things.

Once Michael had found what he needed, he got up from his bed and went to the small desk in the opposite corner of the cell.

He then took the two sheets of paper, one plain red clothing ad and the other a plain green beer ad, gently tearing them apart to form two separate square pieces of paper.

Once he was satisfied with the shape of the two papers, he started folding. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until it was done.

It didn't matter if it took him more than an hour to finish. It just had to be perfect.

-oOo-

When he stepped into the infirmary the next day, he was very upset to find that she was the same Sara she was yesterday. Still no smiles, still no eye contact. Still nothing.

'You threw away your flowers." Michael remarked, noting the still vibrant arrangement sticking out of the gray plastic trashcan to his left.

'Like I said, they don't last.' Sara reminds him.

'I don't think they're dead yet.' Michael remarks.

'I don't like getting attached to things I know won't last.' Sara adds.

'Why are you so cynical?' Michael asks.

'Michael, I think there's cynicism and there's realism.' Sara replies.

'And there's optimism, hope, faith.' Michael says.

'This coming from an eight-toed man locked away in a penitentiary.' Sara comments.

Smiling, Michael says, 'Toes were overrated.'

'Thank you for trying to make me smile. Not today.' Sara says apologetically.

'You never know…' Michael adds with a grin.

'We're all set.' Sara replies, looking displeased.

As he walks out of the room, he carefully and stealthily, lays the beautifully crafted figure he so gently created the night before on the edge of her desk.

Before he lets the guard cuff him and escort him back to his cell, he hides behind the doorframe, avoiding her gaze.

He sees her roll to the edge of her desk, where he had left it. The delicate red origami flower he had so carefully made.

There it is. His whole day is made lighter. His stay in prison is made a whole lot easier. All because of one slight action.

Her beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, warm…

Smile.

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So? Good, bad? Please, please, please let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome. :)