Fic: Cellie

[serafina20]

Title: Cellie
Author: serafina20
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Four months into his sentence for the murder of Oscar Shales, Alexander Mahone gets a new cellie.



Watching someone eat shouldn't be so amusing, yet Michael at dinner had become a sort of spectator sport. Everyone watched as he picked through his tuna casserole, carefully picking out the peas and onions before laying them aside. It was the only thing left to do, practically; Michael had been at it for almost forty-five minutes and they'd all finished their meal. No one wanted to go back to their cells right away, so instead they sat, watching.

"My favorite part," Randall said after some times, "is how he hasn't eaten anything else."

"The casserole is the main dish," Michael answered without looking up. "You eat the main dish first."

"There's rules now?"

Michael just sighed and continued to pick through his food. Annoyance was written across his face, marring the heavy look of relaxation he'd worn into the mess earlier.

Alex reached out and put his hand on Michael's neck. "Leave him alone, Randall," he said, smiling easily. "He can eat however he likes."

"It's probably cold now. Nothing worse than cold tuna casserole."

"Cold tuna casserole with peas and onions in it is way worse," Michael replied immediately. He grinned and looked up.

Randall rolled his eyes. "Of course. What was I thinking?"

"I don't know." Michael grabbed a napkin and pushed the vegetables he'd picked out of his food onto it. Then he folded it up and looked at Alex. "Alex?" he said, batting his eyelashes at him.

Alex rolled his eyes. "I'll just clean that up for you, shall I?" He scooped the napkin up and rose. "I'm going to talk to Travis, too. Okay?"

Michael glanced to the table Travis and O'Connell had taken. They'd been working on something all during dinner, heads together, whispering.

"Be careful."

He nodded and squeezed Michael's neck once more. Then he crossed the room to Travis.

"Hey," he said, tossing the napkin of discarded stuff into a nearby trashcan. "Mind if I sit down?"

Travis stiffened and looked away.

"Sure, Alex," O'Connell answered. He reached out and covered Travis's hand with his own. Squeezed it. "We were talking about you, actually."

He raised his eyebrow. "Oh? Nothing too bad I hope."

O'Connell gave him a sympathetic smile. "No. Not too bad." He winked. "Enjoying the lockdown?"

He couldn't help the smile. "More than normal, I suppose. Although it's a nice day to be out and about. Not too hot. There won't be too many more days like this."

"No. Sadly not. I'm not looking forward to winter. The cold always makes my arthritis act up. And now Randall's got that broken leg, so he'll be complaining."

"We'll deal. Always do."

"You'll be out of here by then, if there's any justice in the world."

Alex just shrugged. "Do you know what caused the lockdown?"

O'Connell shook his head. "Heard some guards talking about an electrical short or a fire or something. I think something happened to the security system. We should be out tomorrow."

"I hope so. Michael has a visitor coming tomorrow. He's getting tense waiting for her to come. If it has to get put off..." Alex trailed off and shrugged. "How have you been, Travis?" he asked after a moment.

Travis looked at him, startled and wide-eyed. Quickly, he looked away. Shrugged. "Okay." He licked his lips.

"Travis," O'Connell said in a tone that was both gentle and firm at the same time.

Travis let out a long breath. Then, his shoulders straightened and he sat up. "Here." From his back pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Alex.

He took it and opened it.

"Dear Alex," it read,


"Im not smart like you and Michael, so Im sorry for the mistaks Im making in the letter.

"You are the best thing thats ever happened to me in my life. You are the only person who has ever been nice to me with out wanting something from me. Bekause of that, I thought I was in love with you. And maybe I really am. I don't know. Tim (thats O'Connells furst name) says that bekause Ive never been in love, I dont really know what it feels like. All I know is I feel really safe when Im with you. Like youd never do nothing to hurt me or make me sad or anything like that.

"Im sorry I hurt you and got you in trouble with the gards. I was stupid and angry and wanted to hurt you like I felt hurt by you. It wasnt fair. Im sorry.

"And Im sorry that I made Michael jealous and angry. I dont want to loose your freindship bekause me and Michael cant get along. I shouldnt have tried to get him to break up with you. Im gonna rite him a letter to. Id like it if you and me and him culd be freinds, you know? In a place like this, we need all the freinds we can get.

"Tim says that a true friend, or someone really in love with someone, wuld be happy that their happy. If you and me culd still be freinds and talk and stuff, like we ust to, then I culd be happy that you have Michael. You are the best person in the world and you should be happy.

"Your freind,

"Travis."

Alex set the letter down on the table. When he looked up, he saw that Travis was looking back at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. He was chewing on a fingernail and his shoulders were so tense, they were nearly to his ears.

"Travis," he started, but Travis cut him off.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm really, really sorry for what I did. For coming onto you like that, and then getting mad when you turned me down. And then lying to Ralston about it." He bit his thumb. "It's just. I mean. Dr. Juarez says it's because I don't feel like I'm in control. And I don't. It's like everything happens to me, not because of anything I do. And I built this picture in my head about what it would be like when I got out of the nut bin. That you'd be there and we'd see each other. And you'd realize you wanted me and we'd be together, you know? But then, there was Michael, and he's perfect and beautiful and genius and you love him. And the only time anyone loves me is if I." His cheeks turned dark red. "You know."

"I never meant to hurt you, Travis."

Travis's head bobbed. "I know." He ducked his head.

Alex reached out and put his hand on Travis's arm. "I'm willing to forgive and forget if you are. Start fresh." He squeezed. "You don't have to be friends with Michael. You don't even have to like him. Just recognize that I love him and am with him. We can still be friends and hang out, if that's what you want."

He nodded. Shrugged. "Maybe I should give Michael a chance?" he asked, hesitant and questioning.

"I'd like that. I'm sure he would, too."

Travis nodded. "But, uh. Not tonight? I've still got to write his letter, and I really hope the lockdown is over tomorrow because I want to go to the library and type it on the computer. My spelling sucks, I know that, and he's a genius. I don't want to embarrass myself."

"I understand. But, even if you can't get to the computer, Michael won't think badly of you. He's very understanding."

Travis just shrugged and ducked his head more. "Still. He's, like, perfect. You know? Smart and gorgeous."

"Want me to let you in on a secret?" Alex leaned closer to Travis and dropped his voice. "Michael thinks you're beautiful, too. When you got transferred here, he got very insecure and part of that was your looks."

"But he knew what I looked like from when he was in the nut bin, too."

"It didn't register until you were here. He was too wrapped up in his own problems." Alex pat him on the shoulder. "I'm just lucky that two gorgeous men such as yourselves ever give me the time of day."

Travis ducked his head. A smile tugged at his mouth, but he fought it. "Thanks."

"All right, cons, wrap it up. You need to be back at your cells in ten," a guard called.

"I better make sure Michael finishes eating," Alex said.

"What, you're going to help him, now?" O'Connell asked, laughing.

He shrugged. "He eats like a bird. Maybe I should feed him like one, too."

Travis, cheeks red, said, "The dude won't eat peas. You think he's gonna eat something you spit in his mouth?"

Alex laughed and clapped Travis on the shoulder. "You never know. People have weird tastes." He squeezed. "I'll talk to you later."

Michael was shoving food into a napkin when he came back to the table. His mashed potatoes and most of the limp broccoli were gone, but the tuna was wrapped in several napkins scattered around the table.

"Are you kidding?" Alex asked, dropping onto the bench next to Michael.

"It tastes like glue mixed with year-old potato chips and salt. Mixed with dirt. That a bird's crapped in."

"You have to eat it. You can't just eat potatoes and broccoli."

Michael glared at him. He picked up his cookie and took a defiant bite.

"You are such a child."

"But you love me anyway."

"God knows why." He leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, then realized what he was doing. "Not even one bite?"

Michael was hiding another forkful of casserole in a napkin. He shook his head. "I'll be sick."

"Hey!" the guard said, coming up to the table. "What's all this?"

"I'm just finishing up, boss," Michael said around a forkful of potatoes.

"Why does your table look like a trash can?"

Alex began cleaning off the napkins. "Sorry, boss. I'll clean it up."

"That better not be food in there. Aren't you on a diet, Scofield?"

"It's not food." Michael blinked innocently up at the guard. As he did, he speared his broccoli and stuck it in his mouth. "My nose is runny." To prove his point, he grabbed another napkin and wiped his nose.

The guard narrowed his eyes and studied Michael a moment. Then, without changing expression, he said, "Two minutes."

Michael nodded and continued shoveling down food. With the speed he was going, Alex didn't see why he couldn't have just eaten the damn tuna. There was no way he could be tasting anything he ate.

Finally, he was done. Plate mostly clean, juice drunk, cookie demolished. Together, they finished cleaning off the table and headed back to their cell.

"How did you talk with Travis go?"

"Good," Alex answered. He reached out and hooked his finger around Michael's pinky. He could feel the scars from where the finger had been resewn under his skin. It still pained Michael sometimes, and he couldn't move it very well. Every once in awhile, he got physical therapy to work on it, but nothing like he should. It was lucky he could still draw, even still. If he hadn't been able to, someone would have to pay.

"What did he say?"

"Travis? That he was sorry. He wrote a letter. I guess O'Connell helped him with it."

"Can I read it?"

Alex ushered Michael inside their cell and dropped the sheet. "No. I mean, I have no problem with letting you, but Travis would be embarrassed. He's writing you a letter, too, but is ashamed of his spelling and everything. I wouldn't want to humiliate him."

Michael frowned as he sat on the bed. "I wouldn't say anything. Lincoln can barely spell his own name."

"Now that's just not true."

"You know what I mean. I'm not one to judge." He began unlacing his shoes.

"I know." Alex sat next to him and put his arm around Michael's shoulder. "He said he's sorry for getting me thrown in the SHU. And that he's sorry he tried to manipulate you." He lightly kissed Michael's neck.

Michael shuddered and leaned into him.

"He's a messed up kid, Michael. You, without the brain and without Lincoln looking after you." Another kiss. A light suckle on Michael's earlobe. "He needs friends who aren't going to use him."

Michael's eyes were shut and he was pressed against Alex. His breath came in short, shaky gasps, hands clenched on Alex's thighs. "You should. Be there for him, I mean." He licked his lips. "You'd be good for him."

He ran his tongue down the line of Michael's throat. "So would you. Do you think you could give him another chance? Try to help guide him along?"

Michael sighed. "Maybe." He turned and kissed Alex. "Convince me," he demanded, pulling Alex on top of him and lying down.

Alex grinned. Slipped his hands underneath Michael's shirt. "Your wish, Michael, is my desire."