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.





It'd taken a better part of the day, but Alex was finally exactly where he wanted to be: in his cell, sheet down, in bed, staring at a book. Staring, not reading, because, right now, he couldn't process anything. Michael was gone and, for the first time since they'd applied for commutation, Alex no longer believed in it.

He sighed and shut the book. This was stupid. He knew he was being stupid. All the reasons he'd given Michael that were in favor of them getting their sentences commuted were still there, even if Michael was gone. The warden still supported Alex's released. His letters of recommendation were still valid. He still behaved like a model prisoner and had successfully protected two inmates who'd had hard times behind bars. Well. Sort of. He'd done his best with Michael.

Now Michael was gone. And there wasn't any booze around to forget about that for awhile.

He'd kill for some midazolam. Just for the next few days. Just... to get him through. Help him sleep. Make it a little less real until he could deal with it.

Ah, fuck. Now he was going have to tell Hulbert that he was craving drugs and it was going to become an issue. He'd been so good for so long about needing drugs to get by. And now? He wanted something so badly, his stomach hurt. He wished Sammy were here so Alex could get something, anything.

Of course. Even in protective segregation, there were still ways to get drugs. And Alex always knew what was going on around him.

"Alex!"

He sighed. "Come in, Travis."

The sheet was pushed aside and Travis came into the cell. He was holding his math book and folder, pencil between his fingers.

"Hey," he said softly. "Look, I'm really sorry to, uh. To bother you. I know you're depressed because of Michael, and I know you want to be left alone, but... but, uh. I've, uh, got this test coming up." He gave Alex the look of a hungry puppy.

Alex sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Sure. Have a seat."

"You trust me in here?"

"I'm too tired to go back out to the rec room." He took a seat at the table and gestured for Travis to sit. "They still playing news about Michael?"

"It's either that or the Price is Right. Man, I wish we could get cable in here. They have cable at Shawnee."

Alex shrugged. "Then get transferred. Or, next time you get sent to prison, request a prison with cable."

Travis rolled his eyes. "I'm not getting sent to prison after this. Nuh-uh. I'm totally straight after this. Expect, for. You know." He batted his eyelashes at Alex.

"You're gay. I got that. So. Math." He opened Travis's math book.

"No, wait!" The kid snatched the book back, panic on his face, but Alex already had seen it.

He pulled the note out of the book and smiled stupidly at it.

Travis, it said in Michael's strong script, Don't let Alex alone for too long. Draw him out of the cell or at least get him to interact with you. Remember your promise. Michael.

"I wasn't supposed to let you see that."

"It's okay. I won't tell." He folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of his shirt.

"I really do need help. I'm so stupid. Michael was the only thing that was getting me through this, and now..." Travis broke off and swallowed. "Sorry, man."

"You're not stupid." He put his hand on Travis's shoulder. "Thanks."

He was rewarded with a small smile, a blush, and a shrug. "Yeah, well. I owe him. I mean, because. You know. After the shit I pulled, he was so nice. He's kind of... good. So. You know."

"Yeah. I do know." He sighed. "I know."

* * *

"No, you'll probably have some trouble sleeping," Lincoln had warned him. "The first night's the worse, just like it's the worst in prison. Just do you best, try to relax, and sleep will come eventually."

Right. Well. Lincoln hadn't been lying. He'd pulled Michael aside about six hours ago--before he and Pam had gone off to bed--and warned Michael about this. Offered to stay up with him, if he wanted.

"I just want to make this as easy as I can for you," he'd said.

Michael hadn't told him that there was no way to make this easy. Hadn't said that he was too used to sleeping pressed against someone else in a bed meant for one and the king Linc had bought for him was too big to be comfortable. That the house was too quiet, even though there were still some persistent stragglers camped out on their lawn and cars came down the street about every half hour. That the shadows were all wrong in the room, and it was too dark when the lights were off and to bright when they were on. That the sheets were too soft and the mattress unfamiliar and nothing smelled right and... and... and...

Michael pushed himself into a sitting position, hands pressed against his eyes. His heart was racing and sweat beaded at his temples and wrists.

The plan had saved him from this his first night at Fox River. Alex had saved him from his most recent stint in prison. There was no one and nothing here to stop him from being overwhelmed.

He needed to move.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on his robe. It was soft, blue, light. Lincoln had picked it out, Pam had said. Insisted, actually. The robe, the pajamas, clothes for the next few days until Michael could go shopping for himself. The bedroom had been LJ's domain. He had expensive tastes, probably from Lisa and her second husband. High thread count sheets of Egyptian cotton, down comforter, pillows he could practically sink into.

Not comfortable enough. Too much like the echo of a life he'd left, one he'd thought he'd never see again. And probably wouldn't, really. Lincoln had been compensated by the government for what he'd gone through, but Michael had lost everything. Given away everything.

He'd never thought he'd be here again. In a real house, preparing for a real life. To return to the real world. He'd though... Panama. The boat. If he didn't die before that.

Except none of that had happened. And now he was here. In Lincoln's house. Trying to get to sleep.

Bing-bong

Michael stopped in front of LJ's room. Light seeped from underneath LJ's door and he could hear the clacking of computer keys.

He knocked softly. "LJ?"

"Come in, Uncle Mike."

LJ was sitting at his desk in front of his computer. The lights were off, but he had a desk lamp switched on. The room was a mess with clothes and books thrown every which way. A Cub's pennant hung on the wall, as did posters of bands, TV shows, and a couple theater playbills. The wall against which his desk was pushed, though, was dedicated to family pictures. Michael recognized all of them as having hung in Lisa's family room and was glad that they'd still been around by the time the mess had ended.

He sat on LJ's bed. "Who are you talking to?"

"Cindy." He typed something, then turned around and sat backwards in his chair. "Can't sleep?"

"No. You?"

"I'm nocturnal. I stay up most of the night then sleep until noon."

"And your grades?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine. I only do it on weekends. The rest of the week, Dad makes me turn off the computer by eleven."

"How's Cindy?"

"Good. She says hi. And that warm milk is supposed to help you sleep."

Michael's lips twitched. "Maybe I'll try that." He sighed and pulled his legs to his chest. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, it's fine. Cindy was saying she needed to get to bed. She was tired." His bright eyes gazed at his uncle, the lamplight catching them so they gleamed. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"You don't have to lie to me."

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. "I can't sleep, that's all. Everything hurts."

"Is it just missing Alex?"

"That's a big part of it. I'm used to him being there, pressed against me. I fall asleep to his breathing." He sighed and rubbed his neck. "I get into a groove, find ways to cope with all the stimulus around me, and then I can't adjust easily when it all changes."

"I remember when you went to college, how when you'd come back for Christmas and stuff, you'd have problems sleeping. Mom used to say I had to be really quiet."

Michael smiled. "Except, I needed the noise."

"You made me jump on the bed."

"It made it sound more like the dorm."

"Gross!"

Michael tossed a pillow at LJ. "That's not what I meant. My neighbors would run in and out of their dorm all night, jump on the beds, dance, run out. Lots of noise."

"Oh, sure." LJ rolled his eyes, grinning. "Uncle Mike? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"How did you know you were in love with Alex?"

Michael let out a breath. "I just did. I... I can't explain it. It's not something I can put into words. I just... knew." He looked away, then back at LJ. "You think you're in love with Cindy?"

He shrugged. "Maybe." He licked his lips. "I think about her a lot. When I learn something new, something interesting, I want to tell her right away. And I want to make her happy. Make her laugh. And just being with her makes me... makes me feel like I'm glowing."

"Sounds like you're falling in love."

"Dad said maybe I'm too young."

"Your dad fell in love with he was six." When LJ looked up, he clarified, "Veronica."

"Oh. Right." He squirmed and said, "I just think he doesn't, you know. Want me to move to fast or anything."

Michael nodded. Rubbed his hand over the bedspread. "Have you slept with her?"

LJ, cheeks red, shook his head.

"But you want to?"

"I don't..." His face turned brighter red and he lowered it to the back of the chair. "Look. You can't tell Dad," he said, voice muffled.

That didn't sound good. Michael scooted to the edge of the bed and leaned forward. "What's wrong? LJ, you can tell me anything. You know that."

"Promise me."

He didn't want to. Keeping things from Lincoln never turned out well. On the other hand, if he didn't promise, LJ wouldn't tell him. So...

Michael sighed. "Okay. I promise. I won't tell your dad."

LJ nodded. His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. "Okay. So. Um. When I was in prison, they had me segregated from everyone, because I was a minor. Still in the adult prison, but... And these guards followed me everywhere. There was this one who, uh." He took another breath. "Even when I was in the shower. He was there. And he'd, uh. Make comments and stuff. About my body. That it was ugly and my... my dick was too short. Too small. And he made me... Told me to touch myself. I didn't want to, but he said he'd taser me if I didn't. So... only, I couldn't, you know. I was too scared. And that just made him laugh harder. Said I wasn't a man and stuff."

"Fuck. LJ." Michael got off the bed and knelt by the chair. "Have you told anyone?"

"No." He rolled his head to the side. Looked at Michael out of bloodshot eyes. "I just... I know he was an asshole. That he isn't right. And that what... what he said, it was just to get to me." His lower lip trembled. "But it did."

Michael pulled LJ down into a fierce embrace. Every bit of him ached and he wished more than anything he could take this away from his nephew. But he knew from experience that there was nothing anyone could do. Nothing but be there and hold him and listen. And...

His fingers tightened on LJ's back. A scream built in his throat, but he held it back. Swallowed it, stopped breathing and held on to LJ as tightly as he could.

And then, LJ whispered, "Are you mad at me?"

"LJ, no." He forced himself to release his death grip. Sat back and turned LJ's face toward him. "I'm not mad at you."

"But... all he did was look at me and now I can't... I'm too afraid to be naked around someone else. You went through something a lot worse and you're okay."

He snorted. "I'm not okay. I'm better, but I'm not at okay yet. And there's no... I don't know. It's not like there's a necessary threshold of evilness that has to happen to you before you're allowed to get uncomfortable and upset. It happened to you. It was sick and an abuse of power. And... You should file charges."

"If I did that, Dad would know."

"He needs to know. You need to tell him. And your psychologist. You can't let the guard get away with it." He combed his fingers through the ends of LJ's hair. "I know you won't believe me, but you'll feel better. More in control. Less of a victim."

LJ stuck out his lower lip. Eyes on Michael's robe, which he rubbed between two fingers, he said, "If I do. Tell Dad. Will you be there with me?"

"Of course." He frowned. "You didn't wait for me, did you?"

LJ shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Kind of."

He sighed. Leaned forward and rested his forehead against LJ's. "Kid. I'm not always going to be here. You need to start trusting your dad. Yourself."

"Where are you going now?" his voice cracked.

"It's not me. You're growing up."

"That doesn't mean I won't need you. I don't need you." He sniffed. Yawned.

"Tired?"

"Yeah." He pulled away.

"You going to be okay to sleep?"

"I think so."

"You can come downstairs with me."

He shook his head. "No, I'm good." He pressed his face into Michael's neck and whispered, "I'm glad you're home, Uncle Mike."

He smiled, feeling sad. "Me, too." When LJ yawned again, Michael pat him on the cheek. "Go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay. Seriously, try the milk. I bet it will help."

"I will. Thanks." He bent close and kissed LJ on the forehead, wishing that he could take away all the pain with one little caress. "Good-night."

"Night."

Michael closed the door behind him and continued the way down the hall. He could hear Lincoln snoring through the bedroom door. Lincoln had snored since he was about fifteen. At first, it'd driven Michael crazy, kept him up at nights. Then, within weeks, it'd become his lullaby. Linc would make Michael go to bed early, even nights Lincoln worked late. Michael would obey, not wanting to get the shit kicked out of him, but lay awake in bed until Lincoln came home. The moment Linc's head hit the pillow, the snoring would start and, within minutes, Michael was out.

He wondered if it was the same for Pam, or if she was like Veronica and had invested in a pair of earplugs.

Then again, Alex snored on occasion, so maybe she was just used to it.

Michael sighed, his chest aching. He missed Alex. And he was frustrated because he knew that in a few days, he'd be okay again, into a new routine and functioning like a normal person. And then, maybe, hopefully, Alex would be released and Michael would have to adjust all over again. Of course, that adjustment he didn't mind. It was everything that came before. A waste of time, in his opinion.

Cameron was asleep in the living room. Not wanting to wake him, Michael tread as softly as possible on his way to the kitchen. Once inside the kitchen, he turned on the light over the stove and went to the refrigerator.

When he was little, before Mom died, she used to make him warm milk with vanilla and sugar when he couldn't sleep. She'd wrap him in a blanket and sit with him on the couch, stroking his hair and singing lullabies until he fell asleep in her arms. When LJ was little, Michael had done the same for him. As a child, LJ had been prone to bouts of insomnia, kept up by worry over Lincoln or his mother or nightmares.

He hadn't had warm milk for years now. It'd lost its appeal after he and Lincoln had started fighting all the time. After he'd gone to college and learned to work himself into exhaustion. To quite his mind by learning patterns and creating routines.

Now, here, with family, it just seemed right. Even if the most important part of that family was still behind bars.

Michael found a pan and poured the milk in.

"Uncle Mike?"

Damn. "Hey, Cameron. Did I wake you up?"

The little boy shuffled into the room. He rubbed his eyes with one small fist and clutched his fish with the other. His hair stood straight up in places and his skin was pressed with sleep lines. "It's okay." He blinked up at Michael. "What are you doing?"

"Making some warm milk to help me sleep. Do you want some?"

"Warm milk?" He came closer until he was almost pressed against Michael's leg. "Is that good?"

"I like it." He poured more milk into the pan. Then, when Cameron pressed against him again, he bent over and picked the boy up. "I put sugar and vanilla in it. To help me sleep. It is good."

Cameron put his arms around Michael's neck. Rested his head on Michael's shoulder. "I always drink cold milk."

"That's how I usually drink it, too. But at night, it supposed to help you sleep. There's a chemical in it called tryptophan and your body uses it to make chemicals that make you sleep." Michael shrugged. "And, even if that's not true, it's comforting."

"Tryptophan," Cameron said carefully. He yawned. "Uncle Mike. I'm glad you're home."

"Me too." He kissed the top of Cameron's head.

"Is Daddy coming home soon?"

He sighed and stirred the milk. "I hope so."

Cameron shifted. "When Daddy comes home, is he gonna live here?"

"Probably not. Maybe at first, but he and I will probably move somewhere else. Another house."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Maybe across the street. Or maybe, we'll stay here and Lincoln and LJ move across the street with you and your mom."

Cameron sniffed. "But why can't we all live in the same house?"

Michael smiled a trifle bitterly. He remembered asking Alex the same thing and being gently rebuffed. Even now, he still thought the idea had merit. Not in one of these houses, of course, but in another one. A bigger one. One he designed.

For now, though...

"There's not enough room for all of us."

"Uh-huh! LJ has a room and Lincoln and Mommy have a room, and you have a room and Daddy can sleep in there. And I'll sleep down here in the room."

"There are enough rooms," Michael agreed. "But people take up a lot of room. Need space. It wouldn't work." He turned the pilot off and moved the pan. "This is only temporary, anyway. You'll be back home tomorrow." He set Cameron on the counter and began searching for mugs.

Cameron made a whimpering sound. "But... but I want to stay with you."

That made him pause and look at Cameron.

Bit tears were in the tired eyes. His lower lip was trembling and he now clutched at the fish with both arms.

Ah, crap.

"Cameron... I'll just be right across the street. You'll see me a lot."

"But I'm not allowed to cross the street by myself!" His voice rose in a shriek.

God dammit.

Michael abandoned the milk and picked Cameron back up. Holding him tightly in his arms, Michael went back to the living room. Cameron's blanket was spread across the floor. Michael picked it up and draped it over the two of the.

Cameron, way over tired, was sobbing against Michael's chest. "Why can't I stay with you?" he asked, tears soaking into Michael's shirt.

He sighed and rubbed Cameron's back. The conversation felt eerily similar. Back when he'd started college, when LJ had been a tiny kid, they'd had a similar conversation. When he'd told LJ that Lincoln would still be around, LJ had begged him to stay and be his daddy. To make Lincoln go to college and Michael could stay.

But that was different. Michael had no idea what Cameron wanted from him. And it was just across the street.

Of course, it was the middle of the night and Cameron was exhausted.

So, instead of trying to reason with Cameron, he just said, "We'll work something out, okay? It's going to be fine."

Cameron wiped his nose on Michael's shirt. "Maybe... maybe I could marry you and then we can live together."

He swallowed back a smile. "But, if I marry you, then I can't marry your dad. You're only allowed to be married to one person."

"But Daddy and Mom were married, and now they're not. So we can be married until Daddy gets out." Big brown eyes gazed hopefully up at him.

"Cameron... you're too young. They won't let us get married."

His face crumpled. "But I love you!"

He sighed. "I love you too."

"So marry me!"

Logic wasn't going to work, he reminded himself again. But, of course, he couldn't agree to make the tears go away. One thing he'd learned early on: never promise a screaming kid anything you couldn't deliver. They remembered everything.

So, he just laid back on the couch, keeping Cameron against him. "It's too late to talk about this, Cameron. Why don't we go to sleep."

"Not tired."

"I am." He pulled the blanket further around them, then reached back to pull a cushion under his head. Once comfortable, he rubbed soothing circles on Cameron's back again and closed his eyes.

Soft lips pressed under his chin. Then his cheek and nose and lips. Again and again and then Cameron whispered, "I love you, Uncle Mike."

He didn't respond. The best way to get LJ to sleep had been to pretend he already was. Maybe it would work for Cameron. So he kept his eyes closed and breathed steadily.

Cameron kissed him one more time, then lay his head on Michael's chest. In about five minutes, soft, sleepy sighs escaped his mouth with soothing regularity. A few minutes later, Michael followed Cameron's example and finally drifted off to sleep.