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serafina20Fic: Sona
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Warning: Mention of prison and breaking out of them.
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, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39, Part 40
Part 41
Sara arrived a few hours later. She brought food and more clean clothes. More entertainment in the form of novels and puzzle books.
And she wouldn't look Michael in the eye.
"Your fever is down," she said with a bright smile. "I mean, it's gone. And, um, your heart sounds good. I haven't got the bloodwork back yet, but from what I'm seeing, I think the worst is over."
Michael gave a thin smile. He was tugging at his fingers, obviously uncomfortable at how bright and false Sara was being. "Except that means getting thrown back into hell. But I guess you can't have anything."
"Yeah." Sara reached over and took Michael's hand. She squeezed it, her thumb rubbing over the back. Still without meeting his eyes.
Alex cocked his head to his side, staring at Sara's neck. It almost looked like there was something there, but he couldn't be sure. She was wearing her hair down, brushing over her face. Yesterday, she'd had it pulled back from her face. It wasn't noteworthy, not exactly. Alex didn't know Sara well enough to make inferences based on her hair style. And yet, something was off with her. And he didn't think it was her reacting to him and Michael's relationship.
"So, Alex. That man from the FBI, Sullins? He flew into the country yesterday," Sara said. She released Michael's hand and turned on the cot to look at Alex.
There, again. Something that looked like a faint, red smudge.
"Oh?"
"He's talking with authorities now to try and get in to see you. He's persuasive. He'll probably get in here later today or tomorrow."
Alex shrugged. "It's easy to get in here."
Sara rolled her eyes and gave him a smile. "True. But he's coming in on official business. To talk to you. He wants to talk to Lincoln and me tonight. About anything we know about the Company. Sounds like he's serious about this case against them."
"He probably is. He hates dishonesty. Hates when people use the system to benefit themselves. He's exactly the kind of man you want in IA: honest, smart, and incorruptible. But he's not who you want at your back against something like the Company. He's smart. They've got too many fingers in too many pies for even him to cut them all off."
"So you're not going to cooperate?"
He looked at Michael.
Michael had drawn his knees to his chest, chin resting on them. As if feeling the weight of Alex's gaze, he raised his eyes. Tapped his fingers on his shin. Raised an eyebrow and lifted a shoulder. "If we go with our plan, it won't hurt us to tell him what we know."
"He might try to do something. Get us out. Get us transferred."
"I'd rather do what we wanted on American soil. It's easier in transit."
"I almost killed you while we were in transit."
Michael rolled his eyes. "We can accelerate our plan now that it's just the two of us. Tell him what we know, then disappear before he can do anything."
"The thing is, Michael, the only way he can build his case is if he has us as witnesses. He'll need us to testify in order to really do anything."
Michael sighed. Pressed his forehead against his knees. "He can't investigate on his own? Just take our information and find the proof?"
Alex shrugged. "Maybe. It's still a stronger case with us."
"But you won't go back to the States."
"Don't you have a wife and child back home?" Sara asked.
He glared at her, but resisted the urge to invade her personal space to intimidate her. Instead, he forced himself to unclench his fists and said, "I'm no longer married. And it's probably safer for both of them if I'm not in the country, screwing with the Company. Besides," he added in a softer voice, "I can't justify screwing around with them anymore. It's cruel."
She nodded, face reflecting sympathetic understanding.
He wanted to punch her.
"Don't worry about it," Alex told Michael. "We'll figure out to do when we have to. If Sullins come, we'll deal with him."
The door opened and one of the guards came in. "Senorita. General say he talk to you now, then you go."
Sara nodded. "Okay." She rose. "There's more food in the basket. The general said that he'd let you take anything non lethal with you into the prison. If you're still here tomorrow, I'll bring you more supplies." She leaned over Michael and kissed him on the top of his head. "Take care of yourself."
Michael looked up. Kissed her cheek. "You, too. Tell Lincoln I said hi."
Alex watched as Sara's face turned bright red. She gathered her belongings and crossed the room to Alex. "Take care of yourself, too, Alex." She kissed him on the cheek. "Make sure you're getting rest."
"I'm fine. Thanks."
She nodded, then followed the guard out.
The door shut, leaving them alone.
Michael looked up and met Alex's eyes. Alex looked back, not sure what to say.
Finally, Michael sighed. "She slept with Lincoln."
"I wasn't sure until she came over. I knew she was acting strangely, but…"
"I don't blame her. I can't bring myself to care."
He pushed away from the wall and went to the cot. "You sure?"
"It's not the first time Lincoln slept with someone I was with. Or had been with." Michael shrugged. "Lincoln was really devoted to Veronica, but he still sometimes cleaned up my messes. Or, you know. Whatever. Picked up the slack when I failed to perform." His cheeks burned dully. "A few times, when I was in high school and these girls just wouldn't leave me alone. So, I let them sleep with me a few times, but then they kind of latched onto Lincoln. He was older and cool and really didn't care if anyone drank beer or whatever. And he had no qualms about sleeping with underage girls, as long as they weren't too underage, you know?" He shrugged.
"That's not what happened here."
Michael shook his head. Leaned his head against Alex's shoulder. "No. Lincoln's still grieving Veronica. Sara must have been freaked out or mad or just… hurt. I hurt her. So. Bang. There they are." He sighed. "She wouldn't have been happy with me. I'm cold in bed. Distant. She'd want more."
Alex slipped his arm around Michael. "She'd probably want what I have in my bed."
"What's that?"
"An absolute firecracker. The warmest, most responsive lover I've ever had." Alex kissed Michael on the head. Squeezed him. "The best lover I've had."
Michael snorted. "Liar."
He ran his finger down Michael's neck.
Michael shuddered. "Alex," he started, but Alex stopped him by slipping his thumb into Michael's mouth.
"Jerk," Michael mumbled, then closed his mouth around Alex's thumb. Flicked his tongue against the tip. Swirled around it, then sucked.
The lock on the door rattled.
Alex pulled his thumb from Michael's mouth and scooted away just as the door swung open and General Zavala entered.
"Gentlemen. The doctor say you recovered. Only three inmates displayed the same sickness as you, and it's been taken care of. I received call from the governor telling me to keep you here a few hours longer. Someone from your government is here wanting to talk to you. There is talk of extradition."
"Even though we've both committed crimes here, we might be sent back to the States?" Alex asked.
Zavala shrugged. "I must be honest and say I would not be sorry to see you go."
"We've enjoyed your hospitality, though. It'll be hard to leave."
Michael poked Alex in the ribs.
"Then enjoy more of our hospitality while we wait on the government to decide what to do." With that, the general left.
Michael fell back against the cot. Draped his arm over his eyes. "Any way to tunnel out of here?"
Alex didn't answer. Instead, slid off the cot and began to pace. "So. If we're taken out by Sullins, what's our plan of action?"
"Escape. Find a hole and bury ourselves in it. When no one's talking about us anymore, take off for, I don't know. Australia or something."
"Australia?"
"Or something," he said, voice defensive. He sat up, looking wild-eyed and desperate. "I don't know! Okay, is that what you want to hear me say? I. Don't. Know." His jaw clenched. He looked away. "Look. Just… I'll get you out. And you run. It's me they want anyway. Don't worry about me. Just go."
Alex sighed. "Are you done, Saint Michael?"
Michael loolmn, "
"Australia?"
"Or something," he said, voice defensive. He sat up, looking wild-eyed and desperate. "I don't know! Okay, is that what you want to hear me say? I. Don't. Know." His jaw clenched. He looked away. "Look. Just… I'll get you out. And you run. It's me they want anyway. Don't worry about me. Just go."
Alex sighed. "Are you done, Saint Michael?"
Michael looked at him.
"We've discussed this. I’m sticking with you."
"We're too conspicuous together. Too well known."
"You already said we'd find a hole. It's doable. Believe me, I know. I'm the best man they've got in finding people like us. And there's two of us. We'll find that hole and stay there."
"You're insane."
"So are you. That's why we're so good together."
Michael let out a long sigh and slumped against the wall. Closing his eyes, he nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
* * *
After the grime and dirt and sweat of Sona, where even the guards and the warden had a sheen of grime clinging to them, the sight of Sullins and Lang, both looking fresh in clean pressed suits, was unexpected.
Michael and Alex had been escorted from their holding cell to an office about ten minutes ago. Unlike the room they'd been in the past few days, this one had lots of space, furniture, and windows open so what little breeze there was could blow in.
The sun streaming through the windows was a relief to Alex after being in artificial light for so many days, but it was obviously hurting Michael's too-sensitive eyes. He had them squinted, head turned away from the source, hand cupped against his forehead. When they'd come in, Alex had seen Michael study the two FBI agents before the light got too much.
Alex wondered what he thought when Alex himself wasn't sure what to think. Sullins had been his adversary for a long time. At first, it'd been unwarranted. For whatever reason, Sullins had gotten it into his head that Alex was being unscrupulous somehow. Using force to elicit confessions. Shooting before identifying himself, getting too close to suspects. Being too trigger happy. He had a thousand accusations, none of which were true. In the early days, Alex had be completely straight in everything he did. Being an FBI agent had been something he'd loved. Something he'd excelled at easily. Fugitive retrieval was a giant chess game, and Alex loved chess.
Sullins hadn't been able to accept that. Even when he never found any wrongdoing on Alex's part, he hadn't let it go. And when Oscar Shales had disappeared, well. It was like Christmas for Sullins. Even though he couldn't prove anything, couldn't find the evidence, he knew he was right.
And then it became a chess game between the two of them. Only this one, Alex didn't enjoy as much. Sullins was a skilled opponent, but Alex didn't like being the one in the wrong.
A breeze strengthened by a fan brushed against the side of Alex's face. It dislodged a bead of sweat from Alex's hair. It rolled down the side of his face, catching in the scruff of a beard that'd sprung up over the past weeks. He ran his hand over it, his fingers dampening from the sweat.
And Michael had tried to insist on wearing sleeves. Had fought Alex, punching and pushing, as if he were Cameron's age. Alex had finally won, but, Goddamn the man was stubborn.
Sullins sat up straighter. Cocked his head and gave Alex an oily little smile. "So, Alex. Enjoying your vacation."
He rolled his eyes and sat back, stretching his arm across the back of Michael's chair. "Oh, it's been great. Wonderful. Tropical location, plenty of sun with the occasional rain. Painfully scorching days. What's not to love?"
"Cute. And Mr. Scofield." Sullins turned his gaze to Michael. "The great white whale, I presume. The man Alex gave everything up for in the end. Chased you down here as his career came apart, risked his life to capture you."
"You've got your facts wrong," Michael said. "He came down not to capture me. He came down to get the money I recovered. Not for me. I'm not the white whale."
"I locked myself in a room for two weeks trying to figure out where you were, Michael. Don't be modest."
Michael looked at him, eyes widening. His cheeks began to burn. "What about Shales?"
"I caught Shales, remember?"
"Oh, so you admit that," Sullins said.
Alex rolled his eyes. "Didn't you dig up the body already?"
Sullins inclined his head in acknowledgement. "So. I've been authorized to offer both of you a deal. The government is very interested in the information the two of you have about the involvement of the Reynolds Presidency with Lincoln Burrows. We're talking names, dates, locations. Anything you have."
"And in return?" Alex prompted.
"For you, Alex, eight years in a medium security prison."
"Eight years?" That was a long time. Not as long as ten. Not as long as death. But it wasn't as short as he'd like. Not that he was really planning on going to prison, but…
"You're facing multiple counts of murder, Alex," Sullins said sharply. "I had to talk them down to eight. That's the best you're going to get."
"It's a prison in the States, Alex," Lang said, the first she'd spoken since she'd come in. "You're in hell right now."
He couldn't help the bitter smile. "You haven't even seen the inside, Felicia. What do you know?"
"Enough. I've done my research on this place. You're not going to survive it. Very few do. With this offer, you'll be back on home soil by tomorrow. Be clean. In air conditioning. Have a real bed to sleep in. Eight years is nothing to staying here."
She held his eyes with earnestness. With compassion.
His stomach clenched gazing at her. They barely knew each other, but here she was. Alex knew her well enough to know that she'd been the one to twist Sullins' arm about getting him onboard with his investigation. In the few weeks after she'd joined his team, Alex had gotten a good idea of her character. And beside that…
Well. Suffice to say, had Michael not been sitting next to him, there'd be more sparks between him and Felicia right now.
He swallowed. "What about Michael?"
Sullins shrugged. "Well, Mr. Scofield is a bit different. Poses something of a problem. I'm not really in a position to offer you anything other than to assure you a deal will be reached. It will be comparable to Alex's, at the very least."
"At the least?" Michael repeated.
He shrugged again. "There is talk among my superiors of something sweeter. Something more. Because of what your family has been through. But I really don't have information other than that."
Michael nodded. Looked down at his arm and scratched at it. Drew red lines over the blue ink before bringing his hands together and twisting. Rubbing them together nervously and tugging his fingers.
"Michael?" Alex asked.
He didn't answer.
"Can we have a few minutes alone to discuss this?"
Sullins and Lang exchanged glances. Sullins nodded. "Fine. But only five. We need to move on this and quickly."
Alex waited until the door had closed behind them before he turned to Michael. "So. Thoughts."
"What does it matter? You don't want to go to prison anyway."
"You actually want to take the deal. Of course you do, what am I thinking.? Your Saint Michael the Pure. You probably want to tell Sullins that first you want to finish your sentence here, then you'll go back to the States and do that time."
Michael rolled his eyes. "It's a good deal for you. And, I bet you can probably negotiate yourself into minimum security or something." He looked at Alex through his lashes. "Look, life on the run isn't all that's cracked up to be. We probably couldn’t really find a hole. And the Company… I mean, they won't really be interested in us. Not anymore. Besides, they couldn't get to you while you're in prison. Right?"
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe they could. But, well. They're not as smart as us. I don't think. I mean, they had to hire you to catch me. And, um. Maybe we could convince them exactly how dangerous the Company is. We could… insist they put us in prison under assumed names, but really not put us in. Just have it on the records. Then they can put us in a safe house. With ankle monitors or something."
"For eight years?"
"Alex," Michael whispered. "I want to go home."
Shit. Well, there it was. Only one thing to do.
Alex got up and walked to the door. It was unlocked, and Sullins and Lang were standing just on the other side. "Richard," Alex said.
Sullins turned around, eyebrow raised.
He tried not to let his face betray the bad taste in his mouth that came from cooperating with Richard Sullins. Instead, he kept his mind focused on Michael as he said, "We'll take the deal."
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Michael/Mahone
Warning: Mention of prison and breaking out of them.
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, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39, Part 40
Part 41
Sara arrived a few hours later. She brought food and more clean clothes. More entertainment in the form of novels and puzzle books.
And she wouldn't look Michael in the eye.
"Your fever is down," she said with a bright smile. "I mean, it's gone. And, um, your heart sounds good. I haven't got the bloodwork back yet, but from what I'm seeing, I think the worst is over."
Michael gave a thin smile. He was tugging at his fingers, obviously uncomfortable at how bright and false Sara was being. "Except that means getting thrown back into hell. But I guess you can't have anything."
"Yeah." Sara reached over and took Michael's hand. She squeezed it, her thumb rubbing over the back. Still without meeting his eyes.
Alex cocked his head to his side, staring at Sara's neck. It almost looked like there was something there, but he couldn't be sure. She was wearing her hair down, brushing over her face. Yesterday, she'd had it pulled back from her face. It wasn't noteworthy, not exactly. Alex didn't know Sara well enough to make inferences based on her hair style. And yet, something was off with her. And he didn't think it was her reacting to him and Michael's relationship.
"So, Alex. That man from the FBI, Sullins? He flew into the country yesterday," Sara said. She released Michael's hand and turned on the cot to look at Alex.
There, again. Something that looked like a faint, red smudge.
"Oh?"
"He's talking with authorities now to try and get in to see you. He's persuasive. He'll probably get in here later today or tomorrow."
Alex shrugged. "It's easy to get in here."
Sara rolled her eyes and gave him a smile. "True. But he's coming in on official business. To talk to you. He wants to talk to Lincoln and me tonight. About anything we know about the Company. Sounds like he's serious about this case against them."
"He probably is. He hates dishonesty. Hates when people use the system to benefit themselves. He's exactly the kind of man you want in IA: honest, smart, and incorruptible. But he's not who you want at your back against something like the Company. He's smart. They've got too many fingers in too many pies for even him to cut them all off."
"So you're not going to cooperate?"
He looked at Michael.
Michael had drawn his knees to his chest, chin resting on them. As if feeling the weight of Alex's gaze, he raised his eyes. Tapped his fingers on his shin. Raised an eyebrow and lifted a shoulder. "If we go with our plan, it won't hurt us to tell him what we know."
"He might try to do something. Get us out. Get us transferred."
"I'd rather do what we wanted on American soil. It's easier in transit."
"I almost killed you while we were in transit."
Michael rolled his eyes. "We can accelerate our plan now that it's just the two of us. Tell him what we know, then disappear before he can do anything."
"The thing is, Michael, the only way he can build his case is if he has us as witnesses. He'll need us to testify in order to really do anything."
Michael sighed. Pressed his forehead against his knees. "He can't investigate on his own? Just take our information and find the proof?"
Alex shrugged. "Maybe. It's still a stronger case with us."
"But you won't go back to the States."
"Don't you have a wife and child back home?" Sara asked.
He glared at her, but resisted the urge to invade her personal space to intimidate her. Instead, he forced himself to unclench his fists and said, "I'm no longer married. And it's probably safer for both of them if I'm not in the country, screwing with the Company. Besides," he added in a softer voice, "I can't justify screwing around with them anymore. It's cruel."
She nodded, face reflecting sympathetic understanding.
He wanted to punch her.
"Don't worry about it," Alex told Michael. "We'll figure out to do when we have to. If Sullins come, we'll deal with him."
The door opened and one of the guards came in. "Senorita. General say he talk to you now, then you go."
Sara nodded. "Okay." She rose. "There's more food in the basket. The general said that he'd let you take anything non lethal with you into the prison. If you're still here tomorrow, I'll bring you more supplies." She leaned over Michael and kissed him on the top of his head. "Take care of yourself."
Michael looked up. Kissed her cheek. "You, too. Tell Lincoln I said hi."
Alex watched as Sara's face turned bright red. She gathered her belongings and crossed the room to Alex. "Take care of yourself, too, Alex." She kissed him on the cheek. "Make sure you're getting rest."
"I'm fine. Thanks."
She nodded, then followed the guard out.
The door shut, leaving them alone.
Michael looked up and met Alex's eyes. Alex looked back, not sure what to say.
Finally, Michael sighed. "She slept with Lincoln."
"I wasn't sure until she came over. I knew she was acting strangely, but…"
"I don't blame her. I can't bring myself to care."
He pushed away from the wall and went to the cot. "You sure?"
"It's not the first time Lincoln slept with someone I was with. Or had been with." Michael shrugged. "Lincoln was really devoted to Veronica, but he still sometimes cleaned up my messes. Or, you know. Whatever. Picked up the slack when I failed to perform." His cheeks burned dully. "A few times, when I was in high school and these girls just wouldn't leave me alone. So, I let them sleep with me a few times, but then they kind of latched onto Lincoln. He was older and cool and really didn't care if anyone drank beer or whatever. And he had no qualms about sleeping with underage girls, as long as they weren't too underage, you know?" He shrugged.
"That's not what happened here."
Michael shook his head. Leaned his head against Alex's shoulder. "No. Lincoln's still grieving Veronica. Sara must have been freaked out or mad or just… hurt. I hurt her. So. Bang. There they are." He sighed. "She wouldn't have been happy with me. I'm cold in bed. Distant. She'd want more."
Alex slipped his arm around Michael. "She'd probably want what I have in my bed."
"What's that?"
"An absolute firecracker. The warmest, most responsive lover I've ever had." Alex kissed Michael on the head. Squeezed him. "The best lover I've had."
Michael snorted. "Liar."
He ran his finger down Michael's neck.
Michael shuddered. "Alex," he started, but Alex stopped him by slipping his thumb into Michael's mouth.
"Jerk," Michael mumbled, then closed his mouth around Alex's thumb. Flicked his tongue against the tip. Swirled around it, then sucked.
The lock on the door rattled.
Alex pulled his thumb from Michael's mouth and scooted away just as the door swung open and General Zavala entered.
"Gentlemen. The doctor say you recovered. Only three inmates displayed the same sickness as you, and it's been taken care of. I received call from the governor telling me to keep you here a few hours longer. Someone from your government is here wanting to talk to you. There is talk of extradition."
"Even though we've both committed crimes here, we might be sent back to the States?" Alex asked.
Zavala shrugged. "I must be honest and say I would not be sorry to see you go."
"We've enjoyed your hospitality, though. It'll be hard to leave."
Michael poked Alex in the ribs.
"Then enjoy more of our hospitality while we wait on the government to decide what to do." With that, the general left.
Michael fell back against the cot. Draped his arm over his eyes. "Any way to tunnel out of here?"
Alex didn't answer. Instead, slid off the cot and began to pace. "So. If we're taken out by Sullins, what's our plan of action?"
"Escape. Find a hole and bury ourselves in it. When no one's talking about us anymore, take off for, I don't know. Australia or something."
"Australia?"
"Or something," he said, voice defensive. He sat up, looking wild-eyed and desperate. "I don't know! Okay, is that what you want to hear me say? I. Don't. Know." His jaw clenched. He looked away. "Look. Just… I'll get you out. And you run. It's me they want anyway. Don't worry about me. Just go."
Alex sighed. "Are you done, Saint Michael?"
Michael loolmn, "
"Australia?"
"Or something," he said, voice defensive. He sat up, looking wild-eyed and desperate. "I don't know! Okay, is that what you want to hear me say? I. Don't. Know." His jaw clenched. He looked away. "Look. Just… I'll get you out. And you run. It's me they want anyway. Don't worry about me. Just go."
Alex sighed. "Are you done, Saint Michael?"
Michael looked at him.
"We've discussed this. I’m sticking with you."
"We're too conspicuous together. Too well known."
"You already said we'd find a hole. It's doable. Believe me, I know. I'm the best man they've got in finding people like us. And there's two of us. We'll find that hole and stay there."
"You're insane."
"So are you. That's why we're so good together."
Michael let out a long sigh and slumped against the wall. Closing his eyes, he nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
* * *
After the grime and dirt and sweat of Sona, where even the guards and the warden had a sheen of grime clinging to them, the sight of Sullins and Lang, both looking fresh in clean pressed suits, was unexpected.
Michael and Alex had been escorted from their holding cell to an office about ten minutes ago. Unlike the room they'd been in the past few days, this one had lots of space, furniture, and windows open so what little breeze there was could blow in.
The sun streaming through the windows was a relief to Alex after being in artificial light for so many days, but it was obviously hurting Michael's too-sensitive eyes. He had them squinted, head turned away from the source, hand cupped against his forehead. When they'd come in, Alex had seen Michael study the two FBI agents before the light got too much.
Alex wondered what he thought when Alex himself wasn't sure what to think. Sullins had been his adversary for a long time. At first, it'd been unwarranted. For whatever reason, Sullins had gotten it into his head that Alex was being unscrupulous somehow. Using force to elicit confessions. Shooting before identifying himself, getting too close to suspects. Being too trigger happy. He had a thousand accusations, none of which were true. In the early days, Alex had be completely straight in everything he did. Being an FBI agent had been something he'd loved. Something he'd excelled at easily. Fugitive retrieval was a giant chess game, and Alex loved chess.
Sullins hadn't been able to accept that. Even when he never found any wrongdoing on Alex's part, he hadn't let it go. And when Oscar Shales had disappeared, well. It was like Christmas for Sullins. Even though he couldn't prove anything, couldn't find the evidence, he knew he was right.
And then it became a chess game between the two of them. Only this one, Alex didn't enjoy as much. Sullins was a skilled opponent, but Alex didn't like being the one in the wrong.
A breeze strengthened by a fan brushed against the side of Alex's face. It dislodged a bead of sweat from Alex's hair. It rolled down the side of his face, catching in the scruff of a beard that'd sprung up over the past weeks. He ran his hand over it, his fingers dampening from the sweat.
And Michael had tried to insist on wearing sleeves. Had fought Alex, punching and pushing, as if he were Cameron's age. Alex had finally won, but, Goddamn the man was stubborn.
Sullins sat up straighter. Cocked his head and gave Alex an oily little smile. "So, Alex. Enjoying your vacation."
He rolled his eyes and sat back, stretching his arm across the back of Michael's chair. "Oh, it's been great. Wonderful. Tropical location, plenty of sun with the occasional rain. Painfully scorching days. What's not to love?"
"Cute. And Mr. Scofield." Sullins turned his gaze to Michael. "The great white whale, I presume. The man Alex gave everything up for in the end. Chased you down here as his career came apart, risked his life to capture you."
"You've got your facts wrong," Michael said. "He came down not to capture me. He came down to get the money I recovered. Not for me. I'm not the white whale."
"I locked myself in a room for two weeks trying to figure out where you were, Michael. Don't be modest."
Michael looked at him, eyes widening. His cheeks began to burn. "What about Shales?"
"I caught Shales, remember?"
"Oh, so you admit that," Sullins said.
Alex rolled his eyes. "Didn't you dig up the body already?"
Sullins inclined his head in acknowledgement. "So. I've been authorized to offer both of you a deal. The government is very interested in the information the two of you have about the involvement of the Reynolds Presidency with Lincoln Burrows. We're talking names, dates, locations. Anything you have."
"And in return?" Alex prompted.
"For you, Alex, eight years in a medium security prison."
"Eight years?" That was a long time. Not as long as ten. Not as long as death. But it wasn't as short as he'd like. Not that he was really planning on going to prison, but…
"You're facing multiple counts of murder, Alex," Sullins said sharply. "I had to talk them down to eight. That's the best you're going to get."
"It's a prison in the States, Alex," Lang said, the first she'd spoken since she'd come in. "You're in hell right now."
He couldn't help the bitter smile. "You haven't even seen the inside, Felicia. What do you know?"
"Enough. I've done my research on this place. You're not going to survive it. Very few do. With this offer, you'll be back on home soil by tomorrow. Be clean. In air conditioning. Have a real bed to sleep in. Eight years is nothing to staying here."
She held his eyes with earnestness. With compassion.
His stomach clenched gazing at her. They barely knew each other, but here she was. Alex knew her well enough to know that she'd been the one to twist Sullins' arm about getting him onboard with his investigation. In the few weeks after she'd joined his team, Alex had gotten a good idea of her character. And beside that…
Well. Suffice to say, had Michael not been sitting next to him, there'd be more sparks between him and Felicia right now.
He swallowed. "What about Michael?"
Sullins shrugged. "Well, Mr. Scofield is a bit different. Poses something of a problem. I'm not really in a position to offer you anything other than to assure you a deal will be reached. It will be comparable to Alex's, at the very least."
"At the least?" Michael repeated.
He shrugged again. "There is talk among my superiors of something sweeter. Something more. Because of what your family has been through. But I really don't have information other than that."
Michael nodded. Looked down at his arm and scratched at it. Drew red lines over the blue ink before bringing his hands together and twisting. Rubbing them together nervously and tugging his fingers.
"Michael?" Alex asked.
He didn't answer.
"Can we have a few minutes alone to discuss this?"
Sullins and Lang exchanged glances. Sullins nodded. "Fine. But only five. We need to move on this and quickly."
Alex waited until the door had closed behind them before he turned to Michael. "So. Thoughts."
"What does it matter? You don't want to go to prison anyway."
"You actually want to take the deal. Of course you do, what am I thinking.? Your Saint Michael the Pure. You probably want to tell Sullins that first you want to finish your sentence here, then you'll go back to the States and do that time."
Michael rolled his eyes. "It's a good deal for you. And, I bet you can probably negotiate yourself into minimum security or something." He looked at Alex through his lashes. "Look, life on the run isn't all that's cracked up to be. We probably couldn’t really find a hole. And the Company… I mean, they won't really be interested in us. Not anymore. Besides, they couldn't get to you while you're in prison. Right?"
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe they could. But, well. They're not as smart as us. I don't think. I mean, they had to hire you to catch me. And, um. Maybe we could convince them exactly how dangerous the Company is. We could… insist they put us in prison under assumed names, but really not put us in. Just have it on the records. Then they can put us in a safe house. With ankle monitors or something."
"For eight years?"
"Alex," Michael whispered. "I want to go home."
Shit. Well, there it was. Only one thing to do.
Alex got up and walked to the door. It was unlocked, and Sullins and Lang were standing just on the other side. "Richard," Alex said.
Sullins turned around, eyebrow raised.
He tried not to let his face betray the bad taste in his mouth that came from cooperating with Richard Sullins. Instead, he kept his mind focused on Michael as he said, "We'll take the deal."
