Prison Break Fics
Title: Calendar Days
Prompt: 09 - Months
Summary: Rule seventy-two is Don't Tell.
Originally posted: 03-01-2006
It was a Thursday when he found out. Seven and a half months. Thirty weeks. Two hundred and ten days. Five thousand and forty hours. Three hundred and two thousand, four hundred minutes.
It was a Friday. It was cold out and it was rainy and he huddled on the ground next to a shelled out pay phone, shaking and shivering and sniffing and crying.
"Mr. Manor" had a nice smile and clean, pressed clothes and a car and someone who drove it and held an umbrella for him.
Mr. Manor became Tuesdays and on Tuesday night there was always somewhere to sleep. Wednesday was always a sewing kit and the not-Mexican girl who made her own clothes and only shook a little when she saw the blood.
Thursdays through Sundays had no definitive pattern. Sometimes, if he was unlucky enough, he made enough in only a few hours to get a room for the next day so he could sleep.
One Friday he was able to get the same room for three whole days. He threw up and cried and went and "found" someone else to come and sleep on the bed while he slept on the floor. The other boy was nice and he never tried anything and even gave him his jacket. Years later, by sheer dumb luck, he met the other boy again and found a way to repay him.
Twenty-eight Sundays and twenty-nine Mondays later a girl he knew gave him a ride and he hugged his brother and told him he loved him and never once mentioned a single word about a single one of the eighteen million, one hundred and forty-four thousand seconds since he saw him last.
He never mentioned anything about any of the other times either.
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