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serafina20Fic: Sona
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Michael and Mahone form an alliance in the hell known as Sona.
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, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34
Pink fingers of dawn were just reaching through the bars of the cell when Alex opened his eyes. He wasn't sure what had woken him. They'd only crawled back to the cell a few hours before to settle in. Alex was exhausted from standing watch and digging. They'd agree to lay in as long as they could, no longer having to fight the crowd for scraps of food with their stash on the other side. They could catch up on sleep.
His head spun with drowsiness. When no danger presented itself, he closed his eyes again. Allowed himself to relax, drift off to sleep.
At the scraping sound, his eyes popped open again.
Tony had pulled one of the mattresses to the other side of the cell when they'd gotten in that morning. "Privacy," he'd said with a shy little smile.
Whether he meant privacy for himself of Alex and Michael, Alex hadn't been sure. Neither he nor Michael had said anything, merely nodded and allowed him his space.
Which, now, apparently, he was giving up. Tony was dragging his mattress back to Alex and Michael's. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, brow furrowed. He almost looked frightened.
He moved beyond Alex's view, pulling the mattress behind Michael. A moment later, he heard a sigh and a yawn. Tony settling down to sleep again.
Probably a nightmare. Or a change of heart. Nothing to worry about.
Alex yawned. Shifted, cracking his spine, and closed his eyes again. Michael was breathing behind him, warm and steady. He'd been spooned up behind Alex earlier, peaceful and sated from earlier. Alex wouldn’t have minded fooling around some more, but there hadn't been time and it seemed awkward doing anything in front of the kid.
"Alex?"
He opened his eyes again. "Yes, Alex?"
"Michael is really hot."
He opened his mouth to comment, when he realized that Tony wasn’t talking about Michael's looks. And that the man behind him was radiating heat like a furnace.
Shit.
He sat up. On the other side of Michael, Tony was sitting up too. He was looking down worriedly at Michael.
"Michael?" Alex put his hand on Michael's forehead.
Shit.
"Michael? Michael, wake up." He shook Michael. Again. And another time. "Get water, Tony. Fill the bucket with it. We need to cool him down."
"Si." Tony was up and running.
Alex straddled Michael's body. Took him by the shoulders. Shook. "Michael!"
Michael inhaled sharply. Squeezed his eyes tightly before cracking them open. "Wha?"
"You with me? No, keep your eyes open. Look at me." Michael's eyes slid shut again, so Alex shook him. "Michael. I need you to stay awake, okay?"
"Tired." His breathing was raspy and he gave a kind of dry cough.
"You need water." Alex carefully maneuvered him to the wall and propped him against it. "Stay awake. I'll be back in a second."
His heart was pounding in his ears as he went to the corner to their stash. He pushed aside clothes, candy bars, and MREs until he grabbed a couple bottles of water.
"Here." Hs hands were shaking as he cracked open the lid. Water splashed out.
He knelt next to Michael. "Michael, you need to drink. Here."
Michael was unresponsive. Panting and wracked with shivers. Alex shook him again, waiting until he saw the cloudy blue beneath the long dark lashes.
"What?" Michael whined.
"Drink." He cradled Michael's head in the palm of his hand and tilted the bottle back.
He'd drifted off again in the mere seconds it'd taken to start pouring the water. Some dribbled out over his chin, but then Michael opened his eyes again and began drinking. He drank about half the bottle before he started coughing, dry, steady coughs that had him turning his head, face twisted.
"Alex," he moaned in a wrenching whisper when he had his breath back.
"I know. Just relax." He shifted next to Michael and pulled him down against his shoulder. Kissed him on top of his head, then rested his cheek against the softly bristled hair. "Tony's gone to get some water. We're going to cool you down."
"Cold." He was shivering, little tremors running through his body. Teeth chattering.
"No, you're not. You're feverish. Just think you're cold. No. Michael, stay awake. Just a bit longer, okay?" He gently shook Michael. Kissed his forehead. "More water?"
Michael nodded weakly. Together, they struggled to get him up and get more water down him.
He was so hot. How had he not noticed before? How had he slept beside this inferno without noticing at all?
God. He was supposed to be protecting Michael. That was their deal. For God's sake, how had he let this happen?
"Got water," Tony gasped, skidding back into the room. A bunch spilled out, wetting his legs and the floor. He dropped it gently in front of the bed.
"Careful," Alex scolded. "Get some rags. Shirts or something."
"Si." He darted off to the corner, then came back with his hands full of tee shirts.
"Are you in pain?" Alex asked. He dunked one of the shirts in the bucket. "You can lie back down."
Michael gave a little nod of his head and gently settled back onto the mattress. "I don’t know. I'm sore."
He laid the shirt over Michael's forehead, keeping it off his eyes. "Sore from digging, or sore like you're sick?"
"Just sore," he said with another breathy little moan. When he closed his eyes, a tear slid from the corner. He still shivered, little jerks and trembles.
"Okay, Michael. Just go back to sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours, just to make sure we can wake you. Just relax and sleep." He reached for another shirt, only to have Tony hand him an already soaked one. This one he placed under Michael's neck.
Michael nodded. He seemed to drift off almost right away.
"Two more, Tony. We'll wrap them around his wrists."
"Por qué?" Tony's voice was shaky and filled with tears.
"Por… why? To cool him down. Pulse points. We'll cover him, too, but nothing on his feet. We just need to get him cool." He shook his head. "Fuck. We need more. Medicine. Better facilities. Something. This is ridiculous."
"Is he die?"
"No, he's not dying. He won't die." He wrapped Michael's left wrist, then turned to Tony. Framed his face between his hands. "He's going to be okay, Tony. He's just sick. Maybe the other day, it wasn't withdrawal. I mean me. When I was sick? Maybe I had something, and now he has it."
"He sicker."
"People react differently. I don’t know why it's hit him harder, but that doesn't mean anything. Okay? So calm down. Deep breaths." He took in a long, slow inhaled, showing Tony what he wanted.
After a moment, Tony followed.
The breathing helped clear Alex's mind, too. Slowed his pounding heart, let him get into a space where he could think.
"Okay," he finally said. "It's early. He's sleeping, we need to sleep, too. When the alarm goes off, I'll wake him, see what happens. How he is. We just need to keep him hydrated and cool."
Tony nodded. Sat, twisting his hands, bony fingers cracking.
"Come on. Let's get some rest." He moved to the other mattress and stretched out. Beckoned for Tony.
The boy crawled over to him and gingerly lay himself down. Alex spooned up behind him, wrapped his arms around the thin body. Kissed his cheek and whispered calming nonsense words into his ears until Tony's breathing evened out.
Sleep didn't come for Alex. He drifted some, but his entire being was focused on Michael. On the heat he was giving off. The dry, painful little coughs. Uncomfortable little moans.
And there was nothing he could do. Try to rest himself. Sit up every couple minutes and sponge Michael off. Try to gauge his temperature. And worry.
What was going to happen if they couldn't get the fever down? If Michael got any worse? Would the guards even care? As far as Alex knew, this place didn't have an infirmary. But there had to be something. Surely they wouldn't want some kind of epidemic sweeping through. Or if someone was truly, seriously injured, they must have to do something.
He hoped.
The morning alarm went off. Alex rose and dropped the sheet to block their door. Then he went back to the bed, where Tony was stirring and Michael was sleeping as if…
No. He wasn't going to finish that thought.
"Michael?" He shook Michael gently. Then a little harder.
It took a bit, but Michael finally opened his eyes. "Alex?" He coughed. Squeezed his eyes shut. "Hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Eyes." He coughed again and scrunched his face. "Head."
"I'll see about putting something over the window later. Right now, let's get some more water in you."
"Water?" He licked his lips, which looked dry and cracked.
"Yeah. Come on." He eased his arm underneath Michael's shoulders and helped him up. The shirt on his head fell off, and Alex tossed it back into the bucket. "God. I don't think your fever's come down at all. Here." He got another bottle of water down Michael. "Can we take your shirt off?"
"What's going on?" Michael, still leaning heavily against Alex, looked up at him.
"You're sick. Do you remember waking up earlier?"
He shook his head.
Alex sighed. Grabbed the hem of Michael's shirt and helped ease it over his head. Michael gasped as he raised his arms.
"Hurts?"
"Yeah." His voice was tight with pain. "But… I dug. Yesterday. Right?"
"You did. So that could be it. Here, lay down on your stomach. I'll try to rub some of the stiffness out."
Michael turned his head to look at Alex, wincing as he did. "I'm going to fall asleep again."
"That's fine. You're more awake than you were earlier. Last time, you were barely coherent. This is okay." He leaned forward and kissed Michael lightly on the lips. "Sleep all you need. We need you healthy."
He got a wan sort of smile in return, then Michael settled down on his stomach. Alex straddled him and began kneading the tight muscles on his back. He could feel how tight Michael was, how knotted his muscles had become. Not that he was surprised. Michael took the weight of the world on him. Yesterday had been particularly stressful for him, what with Alex stupidly continuing his sex embargo and Michael being wound up from Tony breaking it off in the shower. It'd only gotten worse once he'd found out what he'd called Tony.
And that was just the personal stuff. There was also all the prison crap that Michael let get to him. Things that bugged Michael on a deeply personal level, things that he wasn't able to block out. The anger, the despair. Guys fighting, guys fucking. Guys getting raped or smacked around. The landscape that should, by now, be blending into the background, and just… wasn't for him.
Which, Alex realized belatedly, may be why Michael was tearing himself apart over his guilt about Sara, about Tony, even Alex. Because if he focused on that, the stuff that mattered, then the rest of the stuff might fade, ever so slightly.
Maybe.
He kept massaging Michael long after he'd drifted back to sleep. Long enough for the mob heading to breakfast turned into a trickle as men tried to decide if they wanted to be miserably hot inside our outside. The air was the usual hot and humid, so heavy that Alex could practically feel it pressing him down.
His wrists and hands began to ache. He stopped his massage and reached into the bucket for the shirt he'd tossed in. He lay it over Michael's back. Set about rewetting the shirts around his wrists, then the back of his neck.
"I'm hot," Tony whined, rolling onto his back.
Alex rolled his eyes at the pitiful look Tony was giving him. "Take off your shirt."
Tony sat up and did as he was instructed.
Alex dipped the shirt into the bucket, wetting it, then handed it back. "Anything else I can do for you? Need me to fan you off?"
Tony's mouth quirked, but he shook his head. "I think I sick."
"You're not sick." Alex sighed and climbed onto the mattress next to Tony.
"No, I is. I is hot and sore and tired." He flopped dramatically into Alex's lap, all wet tee shirt and gangly limbs. "I no feel okay."
Alex closed his eyes. "Do you want a massage?"
"I want Michael to be okay."
"He'll be fine, Tony. I promise."
"What if he not? What if he die?"
"He's not going to die."
Tony sniffed. "What if I die?" he asked in a small voice.
Alex put his hand on the back of Tony's neck. Squeezed it gently, comfortingly. "You're not going to die. I'll take care of you both, I promise."
He sniffed again, but didn't say anything.
If he wanted to be taken care of, babied, that was fine. Alex really didn't care. The kid was worried and upset. He cared about Alex, yes, but Michael was the center of his universe. If Alex was sick, that was one thing; if Michael was…
Then Tony would be stuck with Alex.
Alex didn't know if Tony's sudden bought of hypochondria was him testing Alex, fear, or just being a teenager. Whatever it was, Tony wanted something, and Alex was able to give it to him. So, he settled as comfortably as he could on the mattress and started to rub Tony's back.
"You know I have a son?" he said after some time had passed. "A little boy. Cameron. He lives back in the States with his mom." He sighed and ran his hand up into Tony's hair. Combed through the tangles. "I miss him so much."
"How old?"
"He's six. Beautiful. Big brown eyes and dark brown hair like his mom. And a huge smile. A big laugh."
"Why you leave him? To chase Michael?"
"Partly. But, mostly because… I killed a man. A bad man, but I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to arrest him, but I lost my temper. Killed him in cold blood. Then I got scared and buried him in my backyard." He trailed his nails down Tony's spine, lightly.
Tony arched under him, very much like a cat.
"I was frightened of being caught. But worse, I was scared I'd turn on Pam and Cameron, next. My father… growing up, my father had abused me. Beaten me. I'd always been able to control my anger, but, suddenly." He sighed. Closed his eyes. "I had to get them out of the house and away from me." He sighed again.
"Pam es tu esposa?"
"My wife, yes. Well. My ex-wife. We got a divorce soon after. She was so hurt. Never understood. And I kept… after the Company called me and told me they knew what I'd done… after they hurt my son and I decided to fuck them all, I kept calling her. Telling her things would be okay. That we could be together again. And now…" His throat closed.
Tony rolled onto his side. Face pillowed on Alex's thigh, he looked up at him. "You love Pam?"
He nodded.
"You love Michael now. Michael, too."
He closed his eyes. Shook his head. "I don't… I don't know, Tony. I just want to survive. Michael helps with that. You help with that."
"You love him."
"Tony…"
The loudspeaker crackled. "Mi…Sc… Fi…d. Visi…or."
Tony sat up. Looked at Alex, eyes wide.
Alex gazed back, then looked at Michael, who was dead to the world. "I'll go."
"What if T-Bag come?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I'll be fast. Stay." He stood and left quickly.
The guard at the visitors gate gave him a look when Alex appeared, but just shrugged and let him through.
He didn't know if it was better or worse that Sara stood on the other side of the gate instead of Lincoln. As he got closer, he decided it was better. Sara was reasonable. Intelligent. She'd understand Alex's necessity in Michael's life right now. If she wanted to kill him, she'd wait, where Lincoln would just tear through the gate and smash him into pieces. Sara was better.
God. He hoped.
"Agent Mahone," Sara greeted him, voice stiff.
"Dr. Tancredi." He licked his bottom lip. "You should call me Alex. I'm not exactly an agent anymore."
She nodded. "Okay. Alex." She glanced over his shoulder. "Where's Michael?"
His heart twisted painfully in his chest. "He's sick. He has a fever. I don't know… God, Doctor, he's so hot. I've been trying to cool him down, but I don't think it's working."
"Alex, calm down. Okay? Just calm down. When did you notice the fever?"
"Sometime this morning. I don't know. Um. Like three or four hours ago. Tony noticed it first. I was sleeping, I didn't… I’m sorry."
"No, it's okay. You did notice. So. He's a running a fever."
"When I tried to wake him up, he wouldn't. He kept drifting back to sleep. He was incoherent, just… He's better now. When I woke up earlier, he carried on a conversation. But doesn't seem to have cooled any."
"Well, the temperature went up as the sun rose. You don't have a thermometer, so don’t jump to conclusions. It could have just been the temperature. What else? Any soreness or coughing or…"
"He's coughing a little."
"Productive?"
"No. Dry. He had a headache and the light was hurting his eyes. And he's sore, but I'm not sure if it's because we were, you know." He glanced up at the tower. Lowered his voice. "Digging, or because he's sick."
Sara nodded. Tilted her head. "Anywhere specific that he said he's sore?"
Alex shook his head. "His arms. His back was all knotted up, but I think that was stress. His neck."
"His neck?"
"Yeah."
"Is it stiff?"
"I think so."
"Does it hurt more when he turns from side to side or up and down?"
A cold pit formed in Alex's stomach. He shook his head. "I'm not sure."
"Ask. We need to find out." She let out a long breath. "Does this place have an infirmary?"
"Not that I know of. It's hard to even track down the guards. This place…"
"I know." She ran her hand through her hair. Gathered it on to the top of her head and tugged. "I bribed the guard again, sent in some bandages and alcohol pads. You can wipe him down with the pads, but it won't be enough to really do him any good. I'll see if I can get you some Tylenol."
"Sara." He curled his fingers around the fence. Looked at her. "Do you think it's…"
"It could be viral. Viral meningitis is a lot less dangerous than bacterial. He could get over it on his own. There's no reason to assume the worse. And there's no reason to assume… Have you been sick?"
"Couple days ago I didn't feel well. Tired, dizzy. I thought it was withdrawal coming back around on me."
"It could have been. Did you have a fever?"
Alex shook his head. "I don't think so." He cracked his jaw. "Sara…"
"Alex."
The tone in her voice commanded his attention.
She was looking at him, serious, stern. "You can't worry about the worst. You need to concentrate on keeping Michael cool, keeping him hydrated, and staying calm. You know that if you start to worry, it'll only make Michael anxious. He needs rest, and he won't get it if you're thinking the worse."
Alex closed his eyes. Took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She was right. Completely. Michael was looking to him to keep him grounded. Keep him calm. Alex didn't have the luxury of worrying.
When he felt centered again, Alex opened his eyes.
"Thank you," Sara said quietly.
God, she was beautiful. Smart. And she understood Michael.
He tightened his hand on the fence. "Sara, I'm sorry."
A crooked smile crossed her face. "For what? For being what Michael needs when he needs it?"
"What he said to you… What he's thinking… I never meant…"
"It doesn't matter." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean it. It's what it is." She licked her bottom lip and shrugged again. "Back at Fox River, I was what he needed. Something outside the plan, outside Lincoln. When he was on the run, when I joined him, it wasn't the same. Partly because of you. You got in his head. Maybe if this hadn't happened, he and I could have made it work. Maybe we couldn't have. I don't know. But the reality is, you're in there with him, and Michael desperately needs you. And I want him to survive."
He lowered his head. Closed his eyes. "I'm in over my head. With him, I mean."
She laughed. Stepped to the fence and put her hand over his. "I know the feeling. I've been there. And Michael does that to people."
Alex looked back up at her. "What do I do?"
"Go back. Check his neck, try to get him to give you a better description of his symptoms. I'll come back this afternoon. I'll see if I can browbeat someone into getting me or another doctor in there."
"What do I say about Lincoln?"
"The truth. It'll be another day or so until the situation is resolved. Until then, you're both stuck with me."
He smiled. "You know I'm glad. To be stuck with you. Instead of… well. You know."
She returned it. Both their smiles were honest, if infinitely weary and troubled. "I do. And, under the circumstances, I am, too."
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Summary: Michael and Mahone form an alliance in the hell known as Sona.
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, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34
Pink fingers of dawn were just reaching through the bars of the cell when Alex opened his eyes. He wasn't sure what had woken him. They'd only crawled back to the cell a few hours before to settle in. Alex was exhausted from standing watch and digging. They'd agree to lay in as long as they could, no longer having to fight the crowd for scraps of food with their stash on the other side. They could catch up on sleep.
His head spun with drowsiness. When no danger presented itself, he closed his eyes again. Allowed himself to relax, drift off to sleep.
At the scraping sound, his eyes popped open again.
Tony had pulled one of the mattresses to the other side of the cell when they'd gotten in that morning. "Privacy," he'd said with a shy little smile.
Whether he meant privacy for himself of Alex and Michael, Alex hadn't been sure. Neither he nor Michael had said anything, merely nodded and allowed him his space.
Which, now, apparently, he was giving up. Tony was dragging his mattress back to Alex and Michael's. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, brow furrowed. He almost looked frightened.
He moved beyond Alex's view, pulling the mattress behind Michael. A moment later, he heard a sigh and a yawn. Tony settling down to sleep again.
Probably a nightmare. Or a change of heart. Nothing to worry about.
Alex yawned. Shifted, cracking his spine, and closed his eyes again. Michael was breathing behind him, warm and steady. He'd been spooned up behind Alex earlier, peaceful and sated from earlier. Alex wouldn’t have minded fooling around some more, but there hadn't been time and it seemed awkward doing anything in front of the kid.
"Alex?"
He opened his eyes again. "Yes, Alex?"
"Michael is really hot."
He opened his mouth to comment, when he realized that Tony wasn’t talking about Michael's looks. And that the man behind him was radiating heat like a furnace.
Shit.
He sat up. On the other side of Michael, Tony was sitting up too. He was looking down worriedly at Michael.
"Michael?" Alex put his hand on Michael's forehead.
Shit.
"Michael? Michael, wake up." He shook Michael. Again. And another time. "Get water, Tony. Fill the bucket with it. We need to cool him down."
"Si." Tony was up and running.
Alex straddled Michael's body. Took him by the shoulders. Shook. "Michael!"
Michael inhaled sharply. Squeezed his eyes tightly before cracking them open. "Wha?"
"You with me? No, keep your eyes open. Look at me." Michael's eyes slid shut again, so Alex shook him. "Michael. I need you to stay awake, okay?"
"Tired." His breathing was raspy and he gave a kind of dry cough.
"You need water." Alex carefully maneuvered him to the wall and propped him against it. "Stay awake. I'll be back in a second."
His heart was pounding in his ears as he went to the corner to their stash. He pushed aside clothes, candy bars, and MREs until he grabbed a couple bottles of water.
"Here." Hs hands were shaking as he cracked open the lid. Water splashed out.
He knelt next to Michael. "Michael, you need to drink. Here."
Michael was unresponsive. Panting and wracked with shivers. Alex shook him again, waiting until he saw the cloudy blue beneath the long dark lashes.
"What?" Michael whined.
"Drink." He cradled Michael's head in the palm of his hand and tilted the bottle back.
He'd drifted off again in the mere seconds it'd taken to start pouring the water. Some dribbled out over his chin, but then Michael opened his eyes again and began drinking. He drank about half the bottle before he started coughing, dry, steady coughs that had him turning his head, face twisted.
"Alex," he moaned in a wrenching whisper when he had his breath back.
"I know. Just relax." He shifted next to Michael and pulled him down against his shoulder. Kissed him on top of his head, then rested his cheek against the softly bristled hair. "Tony's gone to get some water. We're going to cool you down."
"Cold." He was shivering, little tremors running through his body. Teeth chattering.
"No, you're not. You're feverish. Just think you're cold. No. Michael, stay awake. Just a bit longer, okay?" He gently shook Michael. Kissed his forehead. "More water?"
Michael nodded weakly. Together, they struggled to get him up and get more water down him.
He was so hot. How had he not noticed before? How had he slept beside this inferno without noticing at all?
God. He was supposed to be protecting Michael. That was their deal. For God's sake, how had he let this happen?
"Got water," Tony gasped, skidding back into the room. A bunch spilled out, wetting his legs and the floor. He dropped it gently in front of the bed.
"Careful," Alex scolded. "Get some rags. Shirts or something."
"Si." He darted off to the corner, then came back with his hands full of tee shirts.
"Are you in pain?" Alex asked. He dunked one of the shirts in the bucket. "You can lie back down."
Michael gave a little nod of his head and gently settled back onto the mattress. "I don’t know. I'm sore."
He laid the shirt over Michael's forehead, keeping it off his eyes. "Sore from digging, or sore like you're sick?"
"Just sore," he said with another breathy little moan. When he closed his eyes, a tear slid from the corner. He still shivered, little jerks and trembles.
"Okay, Michael. Just go back to sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours, just to make sure we can wake you. Just relax and sleep." He reached for another shirt, only to have Tony hand him an already soaked one. This one he placed under Michael's neck.
Michael nodded. He seemed to drift off almost right away.
"Two more, Tony. We'll wrap them around his wrists."
"Por qué?" Tony's voice was shaky and filled with tears.
"Por… why? To cool him down. Pulse points. We'll cover him, too, but nothing on his feet. We just need to get him cool." He shook his head. "Fuck. We need more. Medicine. Better facilities. Something. This is ridiculous."
"Is he die?"
"No, he's not dying. He won't die." He wrapped Michael's left wrist, then turned to Tony. Framed his face between his hands. "He's going to be okay, Tony. He's just sick. Maybe the other day, it wasn't withdrawal. I mean me. When I was sick? Maybe I had something, and now he has it."
"He sicker."
"People react differently. I don’t know why it's hit him harder, but that doesn't mean anything. Okay? So calm down. Deep breaths." He took in a long, slow inhaled, showing Tony what he wanted.
After a moment, Tony followed.
The breathing helped clear Alex's mind, too. Slowed his pounding heart, let him get into a space where he could think.
"Okay," he finally said. "It's early. He's sleeping, we need to sleep, too. When the alarm goes off, I'll wake him, see what happens. How he is. We just need to keep him hydrated and cool."
Tony nodded. Sat, twisting his hands, bony fingers cracking.
"Come on. Let's get some rest." He moved to the other mattress and stretched out. Beckoned for Tony.
The boy crawled over to him and gingerly lay himself down. Alex spooned up behind him, wrapped his arms around the thin body. Kissed his cheek and whispered calming nonsense words into his ears until Tony's breathing evened out.
Sleep didn't come for Alex. He drifted some, but his entire being was focused on Michael. On the heat he was giving off. The dry, painful little coughs. Uncomfortable little moans.
And there was nothing he could do. Try to rest himself. Sit up every couple minutes and sponge Michael off. Try to gauge his temperature. And worry.
What was going to happen if they couldn't get the fever down? If Michael got any worse? Would the guards even care? As far as Alex knew, this place didn't have an infirmary. But there had to be something. Surely they wouldn't want some kind of epidemic sweeping through. Or if someone was truly, seriously injured, they must have to do something.
He hoped.
The morning alarm went off. Alex rose and dropped the sheet to block their door. Then he went back to the bed, where Tony was stirring and Michael was sleeping as if…
No. He wasn't going to finish that thought.
"Michael?" He shook Michael gently. Then a little harder.
It took a bit, but Michael finally opened his eyes. "Alex?" He coughed. Squeezed his eyes shut. "Hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Eyes." He coughed again and scrunched his face. "Head."
"I'll see about putting something over the window later. Right now, let's get some more water in you."
"Water?" He licked his lips, which looked dry and cracked.
"Yeah. Come on." He eased his arm underneath Michael's shoulders and helped him up. The shirt on his head fell off, and Alex tossed it back into the bucket. "God. I don't think your fever's come down at all. Here." He got another bottle of water down Michael. "Can we take your shirt off?"
"What's going on?" Michael, still leaning heavily against Alex, looked up at him.
"You're sick. Do you remember waking up earlier?"
He shook his head.
Alex sighed. Grabbed the hem of Michael's shirt and helped ease it over his head. Michael gasped as he raised his arms.
"Hurts?"
"Yeah." His voice was tight with pain. "But… I dug. Yesterday. Right?"
"You did. So that could be it. Here, lay down on your stomach. I'll try to rub some of the stiffness out."
Michael turned his head to look at Alex, wincing as he did. "I'm going to fall asleep again."
"That's fine. You're more awake than you were earlier. Last time, you were barely coherent. This is okay." He leaned forward and kissed Michael lightly on the lips. "Sleep all you need. We need you healthy."
He got a wan sort of smile in return, then Michael settled down on his stomach. Alex straddled him and began kneading the tight muscles on his back. He could feel how tight Michael was, how knotted his muscles had become. Not that he was surprised. Michael took the weight of the world on him. Yesterday had been particularly stressful for him, what with Alex stupidly continuing his sex embargo and Michael being wound up from Tony breaking it off in the shower. It'd only gotten worse once he'd found out what he'd called Tony.
And that was just the personal stuff. There was also all the prison crap that Michael let get to him. Things that bugged Michael on a deeply personal level, things that he wasn't able to block out. The anger, the despair. Guys fighting, guys fucking. Guys getting raped or smacked around. The landscape that should, by now, be blending into the background, and just… wasn't for him.
Which, Alex realized belatedly, may be why Michael was tearing himself apart over his guilt about Sara, about Tony, even Alex. Because if he focused on that, the stuff that mattered, then the rest of the stuff might fade, ever so slightly.
Maybe.
He kept massaging Michael long after he'd drifted back to sleep. Long enough for the mob heading to breakfast turned into a trickle as men tried to decide if they wanted to be miserably hot inside our outside. The air was the usual hot and humid, so heavy that Alex could practically feel it pressing him down.
His wrists and hands began to ache. He stopped his massage and reached into the bucket for the shirt he'd tossed in. He lay it over Michael's back. Set about rewetting the shirts around his wrists, then the back of his neck.
"I'm hot," Tony whined, rolling onto his back.
Alex rolled his eyes at the pitiful look Tony was giving him. "Take off your shirt."
Tony sat up and did as he was instructed.
Alex dipped the shirt into the bucket, wetting it, then handed it back. "Anything else I can do for you? Need me to fan you off?"
Tony's mouth quirked, but he shook his head. "I think I sick."
"You're not sick." Alex sighed and climbed onto the mattress next to Tony.
"No, I is. I is hot and sore and tired." He flopped dramatically into Alex's lap, all wet tee shirt and gangly limbs. "I no feel okay."
Alex closed his eyes. "Do you want a massage?"
"I want Michael to be okay."
"He'll be fine, Tony. I promise."
"What if he not? What if he die?"
"He's not going to die."
Tony sniffed. "What if I die?" he asked in a small voice.
Alex put his hand on the back of Tony's neck. Squeezed it gently, comfortingly. "You're not going to die. I'll take care of you both, I promise."
He sniffed again, but didn't say anything.
If he wanted to be taken care of, babied, that was fine. Alex really didn't care. The kid was worried and upset. He cared about Alex, yes, but Michael was the center of his universe. If Alex was sick, that was one thing; if Michael was…
Then Tony would be stuck with Alex.
Alex didn't know if Tony's sudden bought of hypochondria was him testing Alex, fear, or just being a teenager. Whatever it was, Tony wanted something, and Alex was able to give it to him. So, he settled as comfortably as he could on the mattress and started to rub Tony's back.
"You know I have a son?" he said after some time had passed. "A little boy. Cameron. He lives back in the States with his mom." He sighed and ran his hand up into Tony's hair. Combed through the tangles. "I miss him so much."
"How old?"
"He's six. Beautiful. Big brown eyes and dark brown hair like his mom. And a huge smile. A big laugh."
"Why you leave him? To chase Michael?"
"Partly. But, mostly because… I killed a man. A bad man, but I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to arrest him, but I lost my temper. Killed him in cold blood. Then I got scared and buried him in my backyard." He trailed his nails down Tony's spine, lightly.
Tony arched under him, very much like a cat.
"I was frightened of being caught. But worse, I was scared I'd turn on Pam and Cameron, next. My father… growing up, my father had abused me. Beaten me. I'd always been able to control my anger, but, suddenly." He sighed. Closed his eyes. "I had to get them out of the house and away from me." He sighed again.
"Pam es tu esposa?"
"My wife, yes. Well. My ex-wife. We got a divorce soon after. She was so hurt. Never understood. And I kept… after the Company called me and told me they knew what I'd done… after they hurt my son and I decided to fuck them all, I kept calling her. Telling her things would be okay. That we could be together again. And now…" His throat closed.
Tony rolled onto his side. Face pillowed on Alex's thigh, he looked up at him. "You love Pam?"
He nodded.
"You love Michael now. Michael, too."
He closed his eyes. Shook his head. "I don't… I don't know, Tony. I just want to survive. Michael helps with that. You help with that."
"You love him."
"Tony…"
The loudspeaker crackled. "Mi…Sc… Fi…d. Visi…or."
Tony sat up. Looked at Alex, eyes wide.
Alex gazed back, then looked at Michael, who was dead to the world. "I'll go."
"What if T-Bag come?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I'll be fast. Stay." He stood and left quickly.
The guard at the visitors gate gave him a look when Alex appeared, but just shrugged and let him through.
He didn't know if it was better or worse that Sara stood on the other side of the gate instead of Lincoln. As he got closer, he decided it was better. Sara was reasonable. Intelligent. She'd understand Alex's necessity in Michael's life right now. If she wanted to kill him, she'd wait, where Lincoln would just tear through the gate and smash him into pieces. Sara was better.
God. He hoped.
"Agent Mahone," Sara greeted him, voice stiff.
"Dr. Tancredi." He licked his bottom lip. "You should call me Alex. I'm not exactly an agent anymore."
She nodded. "Okay. Alex." She glanced over his shoulder. "Where's Michael?"
His heart twisted painfully in his chest. "He's sick. He has a fever. I don't know… God, Doctor, he's so hot. I've been trying to cool him down, but I don't think it's working."
"Alex, calm down. Okay? Just calm down. When did you notice the fever?"
"Sometime this morning. I don't know. Um. Like three or four hours ago. Tony noticed it first. I was sleeping, I didn't… I’m sorry."
"No, it's okay. You did notice. So. He's a running a fever."
"When I tried to wake him up, he wouldn't. He kept drifting back to sleep. He was incoherent, just… He's better now. When I woke up earlier, he carried on a conversation. But doesn't seem to have cooled any."
"Well, the temperature went up as the sun rose. You don't have a thermometer, so don’t jump to conclusions. It could have just been the temperature. What else? Any soreness or coughing or…"
"He's coughing a little."
"Productive?"
"No. Dry. He had a headache and the light was hurting his eyes. And he's sore, but I'm not sure if it's because we were, you know." He glanced up at the tower. Lowered his voice. "Digging, or because he's sick."
Sara nodded. Tilted her head. "Anywhere specific that he said he's sore?"
Alex shook his head. "His arms. His back was all knotted up, but I think that was stress. His neck."
"His neck?"
"Yeah."
"Is it stiff?"
"I think so."
"Does it hurt more when he turns from side to side or up and down?"
A cold pit formed in Alex's stomach. He shook his head. "I'm not sure."
"Ask. We need to find out." She let out a long breath. "Does this place have an infirmary?"
"Not that I know of. It's hard to even track down the guards. This place…"
"I know." She ran her hand through her hair. Gathered it on to the top of her head and tugged. "I bribed the guard again, sent in some bandages and alcohol pads. You can wipe him down with the pads, but it won't be enough to really do him any good. I'll see if I can get you some Tylenol."
"Sara." He curled his fingers around the fence. Looked at her. "Do you think it's…"
"It could be viral. Viral meningitis is a lot less dangerous than bacterial. He could get over it on his own. There's no reason to assume the worse. And there's no reason to assume… Have you been sick?"
"Couple days ago I didn't feel well. Tired, dizzy. I thought it was withdrawal coming back around on me."
"It could have been. Did you have a fever?"
Alex shook his head. "I don't think so." He cracked his jaw. "Sara…"
"Alex."
The tone in her voice commanded his attention.
She was looking at him, serious, stern. "You can't worry about the worst. You need to concentrate on keeping Michael cool, keeping him hydrated, and staying calm. You know that if you start to worry, it'll only make Michael anxious. He needs rest, and he won't get it if you're thinking the worse."
Alex closed his eyes. Took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She was right. Completely. Michael was looking to him to keep him grounded. Keep him calm. Alex didn't have the luxury of worrying.
When he felt centered again, Alex opened his eyes.
"Thank you," Sara said quietly.
God, she was beautiful. Smart. And she understood Michael.
He tightened his hand on the fence. "Sara, I'm sorry."
A crooked smile crossed her face. "For what? For being what Michael needs when he needs it?"
"What he said to you… What he's thinking… I never meant…"
"It doesn't matter." She shrugged. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean it. It's what it is." She licked her bottom lip and shrugged again. "Back at Fox River, I was what he needed. Something outside the plan, outside Lincoln. When he was on the run, when I joined him, it wasn't the same. Partly because of you. You got in his head. Maybe if this hadn't happened, he and I could have made it work. Maybe we couldn't have. I don't know. But the reality is, you're in there with him, and Michael desperately needs you. And I want him to survive."
He lowered his head. Closed his eyes. "I'm in over my head. With him, I mean."
She laughed. Stepped to the fence and put her hand over his. "I know the feeling. I've been there. And Michael does that to people."
Alex looked back up at her. "What do I do?"
"Go back. Check his neck, try to get him to give you a better description of his symptoms. I'll come back this afternoon. I'll see if I can browbeat someone into getting me or another doctor in there."
"What do I say about Lincoln?"
"The truth. It'll be another day or so until the situation is resolved. Until then, you're both stuck with me."
He smiled. "You know I'm glad. To be stuck with you. Instead of… well. You know."
She returned it. Both their smiles were honest, if infinitely weary and troubled. "I do. And, under the circumstances, I am, too."
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 11:34 am (UTC)I love this story of yours with my entire heart.
I just had the perfect morning. Waking up, having a big cup of coffee, a yummy Muffin and an new Chapter of your masterpiece.
Just...perfect.
"He's not going to die."
Tony sniffed. "What if I die?" he asked in a small voice.
Alex put his hand on the back of Tony's neck. Squeezed it gently, comfortingly. "You're not going to die. I'll take care of you both, I promise."
That was sooo heartbreaking. So sad. I had tears in my eyes reading this lines.
Sara nodded. Tilted her head. "Anywhere specific that he said he's sore?"
I´m such a perv but...bwuahahhaaa. That was so funny to me.
I loved the conversation between Sara and Alex. I just love them together. They´re so sweet and both love Mikey so much.
Wonderful Chapter. It makes me miss the Show a little less.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 01:12 pm (UTC)LOVE
Date: 2009-02-02 05:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-06 08:33 am (UTC)Poor Michael-and poor Alex,trying to help Michael and keep himself (and Tony) together.
The scene between Tony and Alex was so tender-I have a thing for protective!Alex,and his caring for Tony was so sweet.
I liked the scene between Sara and Alex. I'm glad she was able to help,and that she understood how much Michael needs Alex.
I look forward to the next chapter!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-27 11:48 pm (UTC)Can't wait for another chapter, keep up the great work!