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serafina20Fic: Sona
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Michael, Alex, and Tony take some downtime in the empty cell block, and Michael has some time alone.
Notes: The story has hit 201 pages. Let's celebrate.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28
Michael opened his eyes without having realized they were closed. The light was lower, dimmer than before, the bars throwing slanted shadows over them. Rain still beat a steady tattoo outside, thrumming steadily. There was a deeper thrum, too, right under his ear. Alex, his heart beating slowly. Strongly. His hand on Michael's back, fingers twitching every once in awhile.
And wetness on Michael's stomach. Tony, hair still damp from his shower, eyes closed. He was sprawled on a blanket that must have been in one of the bags, part of it shoved under Michael, the rest thrown haphazardly on the floor. His long limbs were askew, one arm twisted behind his back, one leg straight, the other bent. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he was snoring softly, blissfully asleep.
Careful not to wake him, Michael reached out ran his fingers through the wet tangles in Tony's hair.
God. He was so young.
Regret twisted his stomach, but he pushed it aside. There was no room for that here. What was done was done, and if Michael should have been stronger... well. He hadn't been. That was that. And he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed it. Nor could he say that, if push came to shove, he wouldn't do it again. He would never seek it out, not from Tony. That was a line he couldn't cross. But, as long as Tony was the one who made the first move--made most of the moves--Michael would go along with it. Because Tony was trapped here in hell, and he reminded Michael so much of himself, only smarter and wiser and so beautifully pure.
He sighed and twisted a wet lock of hair around his finger. Then, very gently, as to not to waken either Tony nor Alex, Michael detangled himself from the sleeping pile. Tony had put the wet soap on the window ledge. Michael took it and a cleanish pair of clothes and headed off to find the shower.
Rats were beginning to peek their heads out of the stones and the mattresses. Michael could hear them squeaking, their tiny claws on the floor. Disgusting and dangerous. Especially if they mistook a sleeping man for food. Being thrown across the room would fix that, but they'd have to deal with the bites.
He found the shower and stripped. The water was cold at first, but quickly warmed. Michael stepped under the spray, reveling in the water as it washed over him.
For the first time in weeks--months--he felt almost normal. He'd slept without having to keep an ear out for danger. He'd eaten. He'd even gone outside and played around in the sun (sort of). There was no one here threatening to rape or kill him. No Southern sociopaths, no childlike giants. No Company, no inmates. No one expecting him to save them. No one expecting anything of him.
For the first time in forever, he felt sort of free.
He yawned and stretched, feeling kinks in his back loosen and unknot. Felt himself begin to relax. Knew it was dangerous--they were going to have to go back to the prison proper, probably tonight, and he'd need his guard up--but couldn't help it. He was alone and the water felt good on his skin. He was still drowsy and there was a sense of peace pervading him. The world was slipping away.
The image of Alex floated up behind his eyelids. Michael smiled, picturing the other man. The piercing eyes and well defined features. The seemingly perfect hair that, even when dirty and lank, fell in perfect waves. And his body. Thin, lean, strong. The way he'd held Michael yesterday. First, holding him in place against the wall, pinned, then lifting him, pressing him, slamming him as he fucked Michael. It'd been....
Michael wasn't a small man. And he had strength enough for not working out. Alex overwhelmed him. Although, truthfully, whether that was do to actual physical strength or sheer presence was debatable.
And Michael was overwhelmed by him. Every fucking thing about the man made him feel completely... well, weak in the knees. If Michael had met a man like Alex before any of this had happened...
Well. His life would be different.
But he wasn't falling in love with Alex. He still didn't know where Alex had gotten that idea. Certainly, Michael didn't hate the man. Really, he never had. Disappointed by him when Michael learned that he killed Tweener. Devastated when he'd shot Aldo, but the rage at Alex stealing what precious little time Michael had with his father drained. After all, when it came down to it, Aldo was the one who'd deprived the both of them of that time. He'd made the choice to leave Michael behind. While Michael wasn't exactly happy that his father was dead, he wasn't angry at Alex anymore.
Anger here was dangerous anyway. Alex was his ally. They needed to work together, so Michael had to put his anger aside.
The sex helped, too.
Of course, then there was Sara. But he didn't want to think about her. Not here.
He'd ruined her life. Just gone to Fox River with this plan and never thought about how it might effect other people. Might effect her.
He hadn't intended on falling in love with her. Or whatever it was he felt for her. And he hadn't meant for her to get involved with the escape. If only they hadn't replaced that pipe. If only they hadn't had to go through the psych ward. If only... if only...
"'If only, if only,' the woodpecker sighs, 'the bark on the trees was just a little bit softer,'" Michael whispered, turning away from the spray. The words were from a book he'd read to LJ years ago. Back before Lincoln had been accused of killing Steadman. Back before Michael had given up everything to get him back. And for what? To get thrown into another prison, worse than any on earth. And Lincoln was just... staying there, waiting for Michael to do something.
Everyone was waiting for Michael to do something. Alex wanted to get out. Michael had promised that he would. But he didn't know how. There was no plan.
But they couldn't stay. Somehow, he, Alex, and Tony were getting out of here. And if it meant they had to live in the jungle and walk to some country that wouldn't extradite them to either Panama or the US...
Well. Actually, Michael wouldn't mind being sent back to the US and imprisoned. He'd broken the law. Since Lincoln was safe, Michael was fine with serving his time.
Of course, if the Company still had any power, Linc might not be safe. Not completely. Nor he and Alex. Staying out might be their best option.
He didn't know. There were so many things, so many choices. So many ways to turn and no answers. No pattern, no plan. He didn't know how to do this.
But first things first. Getting out of the prison.
Michael opened his eyes and grabbed the soap. Rubbing it in lazy circles on his stomach, he thought about the problem of getting out.
The first was the zone that surrounded the prison before you got to the gate. There was no way they'd make it off the other wing; the guards would spot them right away. Out here, they might be able to make it to the fence, but, as far as Michael knew, it was electrified. He'd seen the signs when he'd been to see Lincoln the day before. Unless they somehow blew out the electricity, they'd get caught on the fence. Unless they tunneled under, and that would be noticed.
Unless they did it over here. Which meant they had to watch to make sure this side wasn't being monitored.
Of course, that also meant they had to make sure that A) their presence wasn't missed along the other cell block and B) their presence wasn't noticed in this cell block.
Then their was the jungle to contend with. Who knew what was in there. Patrols. Other criminals. Wild animals. Michael hadn't really thought they'd be staying in Panama, so he hadn't done the research on jungles surrounding prisons he apparently needed. Yet another thing he'd have to watch.
Of course, there was yet another option that had occurred to him while trawling through the sewers. They had access to the administrative wing. They could sneak in, hide away. Learn the schedule. Steal some uniforms. Then, one night while the guard was low, while no one was paying attention--if that ever happened--they could put on their stolen gear and sneak out.
It wasn't the best plan. The most polished or planned out. But. It still might work.
That still didn't account for what they'd do after. But that didn't matter right now. First, he had to come up with a feasible plan to get out of Sona. It's what he'd done with Fox River. He'd studied the plans, looked for the weakest point in their security. From there, he'd found the paths leading to the infirmary, and everything fell into the place.
Nothing was falling into place here. There'd been no time. Just... one disaster after the next. Anytime he was able to force the world into some kind of recognizable pattern, it was upended again. Thrown into chaos. And he didn't do well with chaos.
The hell of it was, Alex kept him focused. He was familiar, predictable, even if he was sometimes prone to outbursts. But, even those were predictable. Michael knew they were coming, and he could see them building. Prepare for them. But he acted in a manner Michael could understand, like folding dirty clothes that he'd have to wear again instead of throwing them on the ground.
It was easier to think with Alex around. With Alex watching his back.
Michael's cheeks warmed again as he thought of all the various ways Alex watched his back. Remembered the feel of Alex's skin against his own. His mouth. His hands.
His body was hot. Too hot, suddenly. All his blood was rushing south. His head spun.
He swallowed and turned his face back to the spray. Reached down and wrapped his soapy hand around his thickening cock. Braced his other hand on the wall.
If he truly loved her, he'd force Alex from his head and bring in Sara. There was no need to... to think about him right now. He was alone. He could let his mind go anywhere. To anyone. And Sara was so beautiful. Her smile and her eyes. That hair, which was so soft and such a beautiful color. And...
Blue, blue eyes. Hard body, working into him. Those hands and that strength. The way he kissed like he was claiming Michael, ever time.
No. No, no, no. It was wrong! Alex was a distraction, nothing more. Sara was... Sara was...
Sara was a dream.
His erection wilted and he followed, sliding to the floor. Pulling his legs to his body. He wrapped his arms around them. Pressed his forehead against his knees.
He loved her. But it was always a dream. Even if they had met outside of Fox River, they'd never have been able to make it work. He was too closed off to people close to him, too busy running around giving anything that he had to everyone else. The people on the streets. The kids with no hope. They were the ones who demanded all of Michael's attention and care, because if he could maybe just save one (and one more, and another after that, and every other one out there) maybe, maybe he could justify his existence.
Sara was a humanitarian. She, like Michael, was a rescuer. But she knew when to stop. Michael couldn't. Drugs had been her addiction, and she'd overcome it. Saving people was his, and even though years of therapy, he'd never broken his.
She would have left him. Rightly so. It never would have worked.
And he'd had the audacity to think she'd give up her life for him. Had... had gotten her to, sort of. Okay, yes, the Company tried to kill her, but the blame for that ultimately came back to Michael. When all that was over, and she'd been exonerated (or whatever had happened; he'd forgotten to ask Lincoln), she'd come to Panama for him. To try and make a start. To....
To try and make everything that had happened mean something.
And he was in here. Hand around his cock, begging to be fucked by the man who'd killed his way through the escapees. Worse, he was begging to be fucked by the man who'd tried to kill him while giving up the possibility of the woman he was in love with because he was scared.
Realistic a voice in his mind whispered.
"Shut up," he hissed. He shivered, slowly becoming aware that the water had turned cold.
Standing, he rinsed the soap from his body and turned off the water. It was ridiculously hard to dry off in the humid air, and he finally had to pull clothes onto his damp skin. He knew that he'd be too hot again soon, but right now, the water and chill air had done the job of turning him cold. After weeks of nothing but heat and running, it should have been a relief, but he was always contrary. Always stupid.
Alex was awake when he got back. He was eating an orange that he'd peeled and dissected into pieces that were sitting next to him on the peel. In his lap was the book they'd found in Raoul's cell. Tony was still asleep.
Michael sat next to Alex and took an orange section. "I thought you couldn't read Spanish."
"I can't. But I'm bored." He looked over at Michael. "You work yourself into a guilt-fit while you were in the shower?"
"Pretty much."
"About what?"
"Sara."
"Not Tony? I'm surprised."
He shrugged. "That's a losing battle. I've decided how I'm going to handle it, and I feel better about it. Not perfect, but I'll deal."
Alex nodded. Ate an orange slice. "What about Sara?"
"I don't really want to talk about her."
He raised an eyebrow at Michael.
Michael sighed. Shrugged. "Let's just say... I may not have been very realistic when I thought she and I might be able to build some kind of life together." He shrugged. "I might have been figuring that all this would change me. Make me not need to save... everyone." He looked at Tony.
"First, you're not out with her yet. You might end up changing enough."
Michael snorted.
"She's a strong woman. Maybe she could..."
"Would Pam have been enough to make you stop the pills?"
He felt Alex stiffen next to him.
He held his breath.
Alex let out an abrupt breath. Shook his head. "It's different."
"Not to me."
He could practically feel Alex's eyes roll.
"Look. You're underestimating yourself. And, yes, I know that's your problem. Not that you don't know you can do anything you set your mind to, but because you don't see that it's worth anything. It is. You are. What you do, from setting up that school lunch program, to mentoring kids, to being there for your nephew when your brother wasn't, it matters, Michael. You matter. Maybe Sara is the one to make you realize that."
Tired, drained, Michael let his head rest against Alex's shoulder. "She thinks I'm already that person. The one who thinks he's worth something."
"Sometimes just believing in something is enough to make it happen. To make you believe."
"No."
Silence. Then Alex sighed. "You want to give up."
"That's not it. It's..."
"We need to stop having sex."
The words fell like an anvil. Hit Michael so hard he couldn't breathe.
Alex shifted. "It's just..."
"Fine," Michael managed, voice a whisper.
"Michael, you're..."
"I said fine." He pulled away from Alex. Moved so he was next to Tony. "We need to go back to the other block. I want to go around midnight or so. I think that might be about three or four hours away."
Alex sighed. "Okay." Michael could feel him looking, but he only said, "I'm going to take a shower."
"Okay." Michael lay down next to Tony and stared at the wall. Ignored Alex's footsteps as they retreated down the hall. Ignored the odd prickling behind his eyes. Ignored the pain in his throat, in his chest. And tried to think of a way out of this Goddamn place.
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Michael, Alex, and Tony take some downtime in the empty cell block, and Michael has some time alone.
Notes: The story has hit 201 pages. Let's celebrate.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28
Michael opened his eyes without having realized they were closed. The light was lower, dimmer than before, the bars throwing slanted shadows over them. Rain still beat a steady tattoo outside, thrumming steadily. There was a deeper thrum, too, right under his ear. Alex, his heart beating slowly. Strongly. His hand on Michael's back, fingers twitching every once in awhile.
And wetness on Michael's stomach. Tony, hair still damp from his shower, eyes closed. He was sprawled on a blanket that must have been in one of the bags, part of it shoved under Michael, the rest thrown haphazardly on the floor. His long limbs were askew, one arm twisted behind his back, one leg straight, the other bent. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he was snoring softly, blissfully asleep.
Careful not to wake him, Michael reached out ran his fingers through the wet tangles in Tony's hair.
God. He was so young.
Regret twisted his stomach, but he pushed it aside. There was no room for that here. What was done was done, and if Michael should have been stronger... well. He hadn't been. That was that. And he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed it. Nor could he say that, if push came to shove, he wouldn't do it again. He would never seek it out, not from Tony. That was a line he couldn't cross. But, as long as Tony was the one who made the first move--made most of the moves--Michael would go along with it. Because Tony was trapped here in hell, and he reminded Michael so much of himself, only smarter and wiser and so beautifully pure.
He sighed and twisted a wet lock of hair around his finger. Then, very gently, as to not to waken either Tony nor Alex, Michael detangled himself from the sleeping pile. Tony had put the wet soap on the window ledge. Michael took it and a cleanish pair of clothes and headed off to find the shower.
Rats were beginning to peek their heads out of the stones and the mattresses. Michael could hear them squeaking, their tiny claws on the floor. Disgusting and dangerous. Especially if they mistook a sleeping man for food. Being thrown across the room would fix that, but they'd have to deal with the bites.
He found the shower and stripped. The water was cold at first, but quickly warmed. Michael stepped under the spray, reveling in the water as it washed over him.
For the first time in weeks--months--he felt almost normal. He'd slept without having to keep an ear out for danger. He'd eaten. He'd even gone outside and played around in the sun (sort of). There was no one here threatening to rape or kill him. No Southern sociopaths, no childlike giants. No Company, no inmates. No one expecting him to save them. No one expecting anything of him.
For the first time in forever, he felt sort of free.
He yawned and stretched, feeling kinks in his back loosen and unknot. Felt himself begin to relax. Knew it was dangerous--they were going to have to go back to the prison proper, probably tonight, and he'd need his guard up--but couldn't help it. He was alone and the water felt good on his skin. He was still drowsy and there was a sense of peace pervading him. The world was slipping away.
The image of Alex floated up behind his eyelids. Michael smiled, picturing the other man. The piercing eyes and well defined features. The seemingly perfect hair that, even when dirty and lank, fell in perfect waves. And his body. Thin, lean, strong. The way he'd held Michael yesterday. First, holding him in place against the wall, pinned, then lifting him, pressing him, slamming him as he fucked Michael. It'd been....
Michael wasn't a small man. And he had strength enough for not working out. Alex overwhelmed him. Although, truthfully, whether that was do to actual physical strength or sheer presence was debatable.
And Michael was overwhelmed by him. Every fucking thing about the man made him feel completely... well, weak in the knees. If Michael had met a man like Alex before any of this had happened...
Well. His life would be different.
But he wasn't falling in love with Alex. He still didn't know where Alex had gotten that idea. Certainly, Michael didn't hate the man. Really, he never had. Disappointed by him when Michael learned that he killed Tweener. Devastated when he'd shot Aldo, but the rage at Alex stealing what precious little time Michael had with his father drained. After all, when it came down to it, Aldo was the one who'd deprived the both of them of that time. He'd made the choice to leave Michael behind. While Michael wasn't exactly happy that his father was dead, he wasn't angry at Alex anymore.
Anger here was dangerous anyway. Alex was his ally. They needed to work together, so Michael had to put his anger aside.
The sex helped, too.
Of course, then there was Sara. But he didn't want to think about her. Not here.
He'd ruined her life. Just gone to Fox River with this plan and never thought about how it might effect other people. Might effect her.
He hadn't intended on falling in love with her. Or whatever it was he felt for her. And he hadn't meant for her to get involved with the escape. If only they hadn't replaced that pipe. If only they hadn't had to go through the psych ward. If only... if only...
"'If only, if only,' the woodpecker sighs, 'the bark on the trees was just a little bit softer,'" Michael whispered, turning away from the spray. The words were from a book he'd read to LJ years ago. Back before Lincoln had been accused of killing Steadman. Back before Michael had given up everything to get him back. And for what? To get thrown into another prison, worse than any on earth. And Lincoln was just... staying there, waiting for Michael to do something.
Everyone was waiting for Michael to do something. Alex wanted to get out. Michael had promised that he would. But he didn't know how. There was no plan.
But they couldn't stay. Somehow, he, Alex, and Tony were getting out of here. And if it meant they had to live in the jungle and walk to some country that wouldn't extradite them to either Panama or the US...
Well. Actually, Michael wouldn't mind being sent back to the US and imprisoned. He'd broken the law. Since Lincoln was safe, Michael was fine with serving his time.
Of course, if the Company still had any power, Linc might not be safe. Not completely. Nor he and Alex. Staying out might be their best option.
He didn't know. There were so many things, so many choices. So many ways to turn and no answers. No pattern, no plan. He didn't know how to do this.
But first things first. Getting out of the prison.
Michael opened his eyes and grabbed the soap. Rubbing it in lazy circles on his stomach, he thought about the problem of getting out.
The first was the zone that surrounded the prison before you got to the gate. There was no way they'd make it off the other wing; the guards would spot them right away. Out here, they might be able to make it to the fence, but, as far as Michael knew, it was electrified. He'd seen the signs when he'd been to see Lincoln the day before. Unless they somehow blew out the electricity, they'd get caught on the fence. Unless they tunneled under, and that would be noticed.
Unless they did it over here. Which meant they had to watch to make sure this side wasn't being monitored.
Of course, that also meant they had to make sure that A) their presence wasn't missed along the other cell block and B) their presence wasn't noticed in this cell block.
Then their was the jungle to contend with. Who knew what was in there. Patrols. Other criminals. Wild animals. Michael hadn't really thought they'd be staying in Panama, so he hadn't done the research on jungles surrounding prisons he apparently needed. Yet another thing he'd have to watch.
Of course, there was yet another option that had occurred to him while trawling through the sewers. They had access to the administrative wing. They could sneak in, hide away. Learn the schedule. Steal some uniforms. Then, one night while the guard was low, while no one was paying attention--if that ever happened--they could put on their stolen gear and sneak out.
It wasn't the best plan. The most polished or planned out. But. It still might work.
That still didn't account for what they'd do after. But that didn't matter right now. First, he had to come up with a feasible plan to get out of Sona. It's what he'd done with Fox River. He'd studied the plans, looked for the weakest point in their security. From there, he'd found the paths leading to the infirmary, and everything fell into the place.
Nothing was falling into place here. There'd been no time. Just... one disaster after the next. Anytime he was able to force the world into some kind of recognizable pattern, it was upended again. Thrown into chaos. And he didn't do well with chaos.
The hell of it was, Alex kept him focused. He was familiar, predictable, even if he was sometimes prone to outbursts. But, even those were predictable. Michael knew they were coming, and he could see them building. Prepare for them. But he acted in a manner Michael could understand, like folding dirty clothes that he'd have to wear again instead of throwing them on the ground.
It was easier to think with Alex around. With Alex watching his back.
Michael's cheeks warmed again as he thought of all the various ways Alex watched his back. Remembered the feel of Alex's skin against his own. His mouth. His hands.
His body was hot. Too hot, suddenly. All his blood was rushing south. His head spun.
He swallowed and turned his face back to the spray. Reached down and wrapped his soapy hand around his thickening cock. Braced his other hand on the wall.
If he truly loved her, he'd force Alex from his head and bring in Sara. There was no need to... to think about him right now. He was alone. He could let his mind go anywhere. To anyone. And Sara was so beautiful. Her smile and her eyes. That hair, which was so soft and such a beautiful color. And...
Blue, blue eyes. Hard body, working into him. Those hands and that strength. The way he kissed like he was claiming Michael, ever time.
No. No, no, no. It was wrong! Alex was a distraction, nothing more. Sara was... Sara was...
Sara was a dream.
His erection wilted and he followed, sliding to the floor. Pulling his legs to his body. He wrapped his arms around them. Pressed his forehead against his knees.
He loved her. But it was always a dream. Even if they had met outside of Fox River, they'd never have been able to make it work. He was too closed off to people close to him, too busy running around giving anything that he had to everyone else. The people on the streets. The kids with no hope. They were the ones who demanded all of Michael's attention and care, because if he could maybe just save one (and one more, and another after that, and every other one out there) maybe, maybe he could justify his existence.
Sara was a humanitarian. She, like Michael, was a rescuer. But she knew when to stop. Michael couldn't. Drugs had been her addiction, and she'd overcome it. Saving people was his, and even though years of therapy, he'd never broken his.
She would have left him. Rightly so. It never would have worked.
And he'd had the audacity to think she'd give up her life for him. Had... had gotten her to, sort of. Okay, yes, the Company tried to kill her, but the blame for that ultimately came back to Michael. When all that was over, and she'd been exonerated (or whatever had happened; he'd forgotten to ask Lincoln), she'd come to Panama for him. To try and make a start. To....
To try and make everything that had happened mean something.
And he was in here. Hand around his cock, begging to be fucked by the man who'd killed his way through the escapees. Worse, he was begging to be fucked by the man who'd tried to kill him while giving up the possibility of the woman he was in love with because he was scared.
Realistic a voice in his mind whispered.
"Shut up," he hissed. He shivered, slowly becoming aware that the water had turned cold.
Standing, he rinsed the soap from his body and turned off the water. It was ridiculously hard to dry off in the humid air, and he finally had to pull clothes onto his damp skin. He knew that he'd be too hot again soon, but right now, the water and chill air had done the job of turning him cold. After weeks of nothing but heat and running, it should have been a relief, but he was always contrary. Always stupid.
Alex was awake when he got back. He was eating an orange that he'd peeled and dissected into pieces that were sitting next to him on the peel. In his lap was the book they'd found in Raoul's cell. Tony was still asleep.
Michael sat next to Alex and took an orange section. "I thought you couldn't read Spanish."
"I can't. But I'm bored." He looked over at Michael. "You work yourself into a guilt-fit while you were in the shower?"
"Pretty much."
"About what?"
"Sara."
"Not Tony? I'm surprised."
He shrugged. "That's a losing battle. I've decided how I'm going to handle it, and I feel better about it. Not perfect, but I'll deal."
Alex nodded. Ate an orange slice. "What about Sara?"
"I don't really want to talk about her."
He raised an eyebrow at Michael.
Michael sighed. Shrugged. "Let's just say... I may not have been very realistic when I thought she and I might be able to build some kind of life together." He shrugged. "I might have been figuring that all this would change me. Make me not need to save... everyone." He looked at Tony.
"First, you're not out with her yet. You might end up changing enough."
Michael snorted.
"She's a strong woman. Maybe she could..."
"Would Pam have been enough to make you stop the pills?"
He felt Alex stiffen next to him.
He held his breath.
Alex let out an abrupt breath. Shook his head. "It's different."
"Not to me."
He could practically feel Alex's eyes roll.
"Look. You're underestimating yourself. And, yes, I know that's your problem. Not that you don't know you can do anything you set your mind to, but because you don't see that it's worth anything. It is. You are. What you do, from setting up that school lunch program, to mentoring kids, to being there for your nephew when your brother wasn't, it matters, Michael. You matter. Maybe Sara is the one to make you realize that."
Tired, drained, Michael let his head rest against Alex's shoulder. "She thinks I'm already that person. The one who thinks he's worth something."
"Sometimes just believing in something is enough to make it happen. To make you believe."
"No."
Silence. Then Alex sighed. "You want to give up."
"That's not it. It's..."
"We need to stop having sex."
The words fell like an anvil. Hit Michael so hard he couldn't breathe.
Alex shifted. "It's just..."
"Fine," Michael managed, voice a whisper.
"Michael, you're..."
"I said fine." He pulled away from Alex. Moved so he was next to Tony. "We need to go back to the other block. I want to go around midnight or so. I think that might be about three or four hours away."
Alex sighed. "Okay." Michael could feel him looking, but he only said, "I'm going to take a shower."
"Okay." Michael lay down next to Tony and stared at the wall. Ignored Alex's footsteps as they retreated down the hall. Ignored the odd prickling behind his eyes. Ignored the pain in his throat, in his chest. And tried to think of a way out of this Goddamn place.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 08:13 am (UTC)Silence. Then Alex sighed. "You want to give up."
"That's not it. It's..."
"We need to stop having sex."
*smacks Alex on the head, pets sleeping Tony lovingly and hugs Mikey * *whispers in Mikey`s ear: He`s going to fuck you again, Baby. Don`t worry. Right ? RIGHT ??!!!*
I wasn`t expecting that. A great Chapter, very emotional. I liked how you got in Michael`s head and described all his thoughts about everything. Tony, Lincoln, Alex and of course, Sara.
Awesome ! Very good Chapter ! And you made my day once again !
*g*
no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 08:31 pm (UTC)He's just trying to be noble. Do what he can to convince Michael to give it a try with Sara if/when they get out. Becuase... becuase he just wants Michael to be happy. :) (Of course, he's also being stupid, denying himself like that).
Don't worry; it'll work out right.
Glad you liked it! Thanks. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 09:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 08:32 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2008-03-08 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 06:53 am (UTC)An idiot. Especially an idiot who thinks he's doing the right thing. :) Don't worry, it will turn out all right.
I love the characters and what you do with them, and it's just really nice.</i Ah, thank you. That's so nice to hear! :P
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Date: 2008-03-09 02:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 06:54 am (UTC)Don't worry; everything will come out all right. I promise.
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Date: 2008-03-09 07:15 am (UTC)Poor Alex- why isn't Michael making the connection between what he said to Alex and what Alex is doing?
They so obviously love each other-they're just both seriously mixed up right now. So much happening and changing at once.
I really loved the scene in the shower where Michael is thinking about Sara and then he's trying to focus on her but finds himself thinking of Alex instead when he gets turned on. He's so conflicted between what he thinks he should feel and what he does feel.
I look forward to reading the next chapter!
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Date: 2008-03-12 01:34 am (UTC)Good question. I think it's because he expects people to leave or reject him,and his first impulse is to pull away to protect himself rather than try to analyze their motives. Or, maybe he's just as horrified as everyone else that there's no sex coming up. :)
Thank you!!
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Date: 2008-03-13 05:38 am (UTC)Yes, I would be horrified at the idea of not having sex with Alex if I were Michael,also.
It's a sad,sad thought :(
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Date: 2008-03-09 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-12 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-10 11:27 am (UTC)No, Alex, trust me. That is NOT the solution.
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Date: 2008-03-12 01:34 am (UTC)Thank you! :P