![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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, Part 42. Part 43
"Can you tell us, Mr. Mahone, when the group known as the Company first contacted you?" asked one of the suits sitting behind the panel at the head of the courtroom.
Alex cleared his throat and shifted in the hard chair. He felt like crap, having finally come down with whatever it'd been that Michael had had. Headache, throat ache, aching skin, aching limbs, fever, and a general feeling of death stamping over his head. Yeah. Little bastard had given him whatever that disease was.
Fucker.
He cleared his throat again. "The, uh. The company contacted me about May 31 or June 1. I don't remember which, exactly. There was a lot going on."
"What was the name of the man who contacted you?"
"Paul Kellerman." He coughed into his shoulder, wincing as pain lanced through his sinuses. "He, uh, he, uh called me at the office sometime late into the night. Said he wanted to meet with me. That it was in my best interest. I tried to put him off, but he mentioned something about Oscar Shales. Said again it'd be in my best interest to see him. So. I did."
Michael pressed a glass of water into Alex's hand. Alex took it with a grateful smile and drank it down. His throat felt swollen five times its normal size and on fire besides.
"What information did he have on Oscar Shales?"
Alex glanced at Sullins.
Sullins nodded and leaned forward. "The Oscar Shales case isn't really pertinent to this. Sufficed to say, they had uncovered what had transpired between Alex Mahone and the fugitive Oscar Shales and the information would destroy his career in the Bureau. He's been given immunity in these proceedings and I say we move on."
The men glanced at each other before nodding.
"Mr. Mahone, what did the Company ask of you?"
"They wanted me to kill ever member of the Fox River Eight. They knew Lincoln Burrows had some knowledge of the Company, as did Michael Scofield. They just didn't know how much. They also didn't know what Michael had shared and with who, so they just said to kill them all." Alex cleared his throat. "That, uh… at the time, I was just told to kill them. I figured out the rest later. In the beginning, all I knew what who I had to kill. My contact was Paul Kellerman. Later, I came into contact with a man named Bill Kim."
"Did they ever give you the name of their organization? Anything beside the Company?"
"No. They didn't."
"Did you, at any time, try to turn down the Company? Go straight?"
Alex nodded. "I did. After I was shot, I told Bill Kim I was out. That I was going to turn myself in, tell Agent Sullins everything. Accept my punishment."
"And what happened?" he prodded when Alex fell silent.
He looked down at the table. Cleared his throat.
Under the table, Michael reached for his hand and squeezed it.
Alex smiled at him faintly before looking back up. "Um, they, uh. They sent an agent of theirs to my ex-wife's house in Colorado. Hit my son with a car. Broke his leg pretty badly. I was on my way to be with her when the agent found me. Told me that next time, it wouldn't be just a broken leg and I better get back to work."
"What was this agent's name?"
"To be honest, sir, I didn't get it."
"Do you know where he might be now?"
"Middle of desert in a shallow grave."
Pens scratched on paper. Glances were exchanged.
The questioning went on for another twenty minutes. Alex talked himself hoarse. And then, after he spoke, it was Michael's turn. And he had to sit there and listen to Michael go on and on about the Company and the conspiracy. About the information he'd uncovered and the flash drive with an incriminating conversation between Caroline Reynolds and her supposedly dead brother. About people who helped and people who hindered and Bill Kim's death and…
All in all, the inquest took over an hour. By the end of it, Alex was completely wrung out and so tired, he didn't care if they were sent back to Sona so long as he could sleep.
"Okay, now they'll deliberate," Sullins said after they were dismissed, ushering Michael and Alex into the hall of the courtroom. "In about an hour they should have their decision. Sit, sit. You two did well."
Alex fell onto the wooden bench with a hard thump. It reverberated up his spine, but he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep. "Any idea of their decision?"
"Between the two of you, I think we have enough information to at least get a good start. As far as I'm concerned, we'll be catching a flight back to the US in a few hours."
Alex and Michael exchanged a look, before Alex slumped onto Michael's shoulder.
"You're burning up," Michael said.
"I know." He coughed. "I hate you."
Michael's shoulder shook. He lay his cheek against the top of Alex's head. "No, you don't."
For the first time that day, practically, Sullins stopped being wrapped up in his mind and plans and actually looked at Alex. "Wow. You look awful."
Alex snorted, which sent into a round of small coughs. "I feel awful. Why do you think Lang's missing?"
"I don’t know. I asked about her, but never heard anything."
"That's because you never stopped talking long enough to get an answer," Alex said with another small cough. "She went to Sara to see if the test results from Michael were back yet. To see what this sickness is." He coughed again. "Then she said she was going to come back with something for the fever."
"This, like, some, uh… well." He cleared his throat. "You know."
Alex honestly doesn't know, but it might just be the fever and weeks of stress coming over him.
Michael, thought, gets it. "No, it's not an STD or anything. Just some kind of virus that was going around Sona."
Sullins had the decency to blush at least. He looked down and rubbed his hands on his pants. "Well. Good. Um, bad that you're sick, but you know. Good." He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. "So. Once they clear you, we'll go to the embassy to run some paperwork. You'll have time to say goodbye to your brother there, Michael. Then we'll get on a plane , go back to Chicago, where you'll be put into protective custody."
"Do you know where?" Alex asked.
"Medium security prison about ten miles outside of Chicago. I don't think it'll be a permanent placing. If you're right, and the Company has the reach you say it does, we'll need to protect you. Keep you alive until you're able to testify."
"And after?" Michael asked.
"Of course, that would be ideal," Sullins said with a faint smile.
Michael nodded. He clenched his fists, then flexed his hands. Began to pull on his fingers and shift in his seat.
Great.
Alex tried to muster up the energy to stop him, but Michael was too fast. Luckily, what came out of his mouth wasn't either of the top two things that Alex thought would come out.
"There's a man back in Sona. Brad Bellick. He was a guard at Fox River and came down here looking for us. You know. To collect on the bounty, get justice. He, uh. I think he might have some information about the Company." Michael glanced at Alex from under his lashes.
Well. Damn.
"This true, Alex?" Sullins asked.
"I don't know how much he knows. I hired him to help me track down some of the escapees. He came down to Panama looking for Fernando Sucre. I don't know how he wound up in prison. But." He exhaled hard. "I wouldn't wish Sona on my worst enemy. Well," he corrected himself, thinking of T-Bag. "Bellick's an ignorant asshole, but Sona will kill him."
"I can't get a guy released because the prison down here is too rough," Sullins said. "It was hard enough to get you two out, and I need you."
"But Bellick didn't do anything to deserve to wind up there," Michael protested.
"How do you know?" countered Sullins, sounding reasonable. "You just said that you didn't know what he was in for. For all you know, he was caught torturing someone."
Michael nodded, but he looked crestfallen. Damn kid probably wouldn't be happy until he released every person in Sona he had the slightest bit of contact with.
"Agent Sullins," someone called.
"Stay here." Sullins turned and went to talk to someone who'd just stepped out.
"Michael, give it up, okay? You can't save everyone. We got Tony out." He slipped his hand into Michael's, interlacing their fingers. "We saved the one who mattered."
Michael turned his head and rested it in the crook of Alex's neck, pressing his forehead against his skin. "You mattered," he whispered. "To me, you matter."
"Back at you," Alex said through a tight throat. He kissed the top of Michael's head.
"It's just, without me, Bellick wouldn't have been down here. He wouldn't… I feel bad."
"I know. But Bellick isn't an angel. He's done things he deserves to be punished for."
"So have I."
"Michael," Alex started, but he stopped when Lang and Sara entered through nearby doors.
"Sorry," Sara said as she rushed down the hall in a light run. She was again carrying her bag and managed to look official even in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. "I got the tests back. You have strep throat, so did he. I thought he might, but there were symptoms that aren't normally associated with strep, so I wasn't positive. How's your throat?"
"Hurts," Alex said.
She nodded and lightly touched under his chin. "Head back and open your mouth?" With one hand, she dug through her bag and pulled out a flashlight.
Alex complied with her directions.
"Oh, yeah. You have strep." She clicked off the flashlight. "I don't have an antibiotic to give you, so we'll just treat you with acetaminophen, liquids, and rest if possible." She bent down and dug through her bag again. "Temperature."
Alex opened his mouth and accepted the thermometer.
"I'm going to see what I can do to convince Sullins to let us stay another day to let you rest," Lang said. She put her hand on Alex's shoulder. "How'd it go in there?"
Alex shrugged. Then he lifted one shoulder, tilting his head to it.
"He thinks it went okay," Michael interpreted. "Sullins seemed positive. But he's really pushing to get out of here."
Lang smiled and winked at Michael. "Leave him to me. Excuse me." She turned and walked off towards Sullins.
Sara pulled the thermometer from Alex's mouth. "One hundred. Not too bad. Here." She pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the bag for him. As he guzzled the liquid down, she dug in the bag before coming out with a bottle of Tylenol.
"Thanks, Sara," he said, voice hoarse. "I really appreciate it."
"Don't worry about it." She smiled kindly and ran her hand over his head, smoothing flyaway hair down. Then she squeezed onto the bench next to Michael. "We okay?" she asked, taking his hand.
Michael closed his eyes. Let out a long, slow breath, his fingers tightening in hers. "Are we?" he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Michael, I'm disappointed things didn't work out between us. I love you, I do. But I'm also happy that you're so… happy with Alex, because you are. Even under these circumstances, you're happy." She stroked her thumb over Michael's finger. "I'm sorry I slept with Lincoln."
"I don't care that you slept with him. It's fine."
"See, that scares me. Because you should care. One way or another, you should care." She looked at Alex, meeting his eyes over Michael's head.
He shook his head helplessly. Michael was a twisted mess when it came to personal relationships. To sex. Sara was right; Michael should care. But, if Michael said he didn't, and he probably didn't. He'd trained himself not to.
"Sara," Michael said, voice cracking. "What I feel or don't or… or can't… it's too much to get into right now. I can't…"
"Okay, Michael." She kissed him on the head and squeezed his hand again. "Okay. We'll talk about it some other time."
He snorted, but didn't say anything. Just leaned against Alex and held onto Sara's hand so tightly, his knuckles turned white.
Sullins and Lang came back. Sullins had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Lang was beaming.
"They said that you had enough information to warrant bringing you back to the US," Sullins said. "They're processing the paperwork right now. We'll go back to the hotel and I'll arrange for a flight out."
"Richard," Lang muttered.
He looked at her, then back at Alex. Rolled his eyes. "Felicia seems to think you need time to rest. Do you really want to stay in this country overnight so you can sleep?"
Alex didn't care. As long as he can lie down right now, he's fine with anything. "Whatever, Richard."
"It might be good to fly out today," Sara said. She released Michael's hand and rose. "They'll have to examine you wherever you're going. You'll get medication."
"How long will it take to get a flight?" he asked.
"When I checked yesterday, the next flight out wasn't until eight. That's a few hours sleep, at least."
Alex nodded. Tightened his hand in Michael's and stood. "That will be fine." He cleared his throat and glanced at Michael.
Michael looked happy. For Michael, of course, which meant his face was basically blank and expressionless. But his eyes glowed and the lines etched around them and his mouth had faded away.
He was happy. Stupid that a thing like that should make going to prison worth it to Alex, but it did.
Alex had chased Michael for a month. Spent about three weeks in prison with him. And somewhere in all that, in all the anger and admiration and frustration and lust, had fallen madly in love.
"All right," Sullins said, clapping his hands. "Let's go back to the hotel, then. This is almost over."
* * *
Michael awoke to a heavy body on top of his. A hot, wet mouth caressing his.
He moaned deep in his throat and returned the kiss. Without opening his eyes, he ran his hands up Alex's back. Threaded his fingers through silky hair.
Alex laughed. Nipped Michael's lower lip. "You're lucky we're not in Sona anymore," he said hoarsely. "What if someone had snuck into our cell?"
"I know you." Michael opened his eyes. Looked up at Alex, studying his face. He reached up and ran his fingers over Alex's forehead. His nose. Lips. "I know you. I'd know you blind. I'd know you deaf. I'd know you even if I couldn't feel."
"So romantic," Alex mocked teasingly. He pressed his lips to Michael's. Deepened it, mouth opening, tongue moving against Michael's.
"You're sick," Michael said, breathing heavily, when they parted. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"In a few hours, we're flying out. Back to America. To prison. We probably won't get to be together for eight years."
"I don't expect you to wait," Michael said.
Alex rolled his eyes, a patient smile crossing his face. "There is no one else." He kissed Michael. Rested their foreheads together. "I had to let Pam go. I get that now. It's safer for her, and I… I'm ready to move on. To move to you." He kissed Michael again. Under the covers, he tugged at Michael's boxer.
Michael wiggled out of them. Pulled at Alex's until they were both naked.
All they had was a tiny bottle of complimentary lotion. It wasn't quite enough, but Michael didn't care. Didn't care, just wrapped his legs around Alex and arched his back as Alex slowly slid into him, heat racing over Michael's skin.
"I'll wait for you as long as if have to," Alex whispered against Michael's skin as he thrust. "Eight days or eight years or eight centuries. I'll wait."
Michael didn't answer. His nails bit into Alex's back. Sweat rolled down his face, brow furrowed and he concentrated. Focused on the sensation of Alex's body against his. The way his face looked as he thrust into Michael, each stroke harder than the one before. The musky smell of his sweat and the taste of his skin, his mouth.
Pleasure coiled in Michael, tighter and tighter. He kissed and licked every part of Alex he could as Alex pushed him closer and closer to the brink until…
There were tears in Michael's eyes as he floated back to earth. Alex was still inside him, kissing him, stroking his face. Wiping away the tears that escaped to roll down Michael's face. Following the trail with his lips.
Michael closed his eyes. Pushed his face closer to Alex's. Kissed him. Clung to him.
"I love you," he whispered.
Alex kissed his forehead. His nose. "Yeah," he said, kissing Michael's upper lip, then his lower. "I love you, too."
* * *
"We're lost," Lang said, folding the map so she could manage it better.
"We are not lost. These are the directions they gave us at the embassy."
"A deserted road is supposed to take us to the airport? Really?" Lang's voice dripped with scorn.
"It's a shortcut."
This time, Lang's response was inaudible, but Michael could guess at its content. He'd had many such conversations with Lincoln over the years and knew the frustration at butting heads with someone who refused to admit they were lost.
Although, Michael wasn't entirely sure they were lost. Not exactly. Yeah, they were driving down what looked like a dirt path in the middle of a deserted area, but they were still in view of the city. Maybe it was a short cut.
Of course, more likely, it was a plot to get them alone so they could all be killed, but Michael wasn't going to point that out. Alex had already tried. Sullins had just laughed and told him he was a bit paranoid.
Michael sighed as Lang and Sullins continued to bicker and turned his wrists around in the cuffs. They weren't tight, but psychologically, they were choking him. He hated being cuffed. Hated feeling out of control. No. Scratch that. It wasn't that he felt out of control. It was that he hated being under the control of others.
Except Alex. But he was different. Alex was… Alex, and he could control Michael as much as he wanted.
He tugged at the cuffs.
"Stop," Alex said, opening his eyes. He lifted his head from the seat and blinked his eyes. "You'll just panic yourself."
"I'm not going to panic."
He moved his hands over the few inches they were allowed and took Michael's fingers in his. Squeezed. "Just stop pulling or twisting or even thinking about them. Just relax."
He snorted.
"Michael." Alex leaned closer and pressed a kiss on Michael's temple. "I… Shit!"
The word was barely out of Alex's mouth when the world went to hell. There was a loud crash Michael more felt than heard. There was noise and bright flashes of light. The world tumbled head over heel. Shards of glass sliced into his skin and all Michael could do was hold his breath and squeeze his hands around the goddamn chains until it was all over.
And then it was. The lights faded away and the noise muted. There was beeping. The car. And the engine idling.
The sound of another car, the engine shutting off.
Michael opened his eyes. They were sticky, like he'd been asleep. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. Something dripped into his eyes again.
"Alex?"
There was no answer.
Michael turned his head and wiped his eyes on his shirt.
He was upside down. Sullins was underneath him, on the ceiling, unconscious. A gash on his forehead. Bruises forming. And Felicia. Laying in her seat, crushed glass covering her body.
Michael had to wipe his eyes again. Squinted, looking through the windshield.
In the road, just ahead, was a Hummer. There was the sound of doors opening. Feet appeared. Doors slammed shut.
Adrenaline rushed through Michael. He struggled against the handcuffs and leg chains holding him into his seat. This time, panic did roll through him, but he ignored him. Stretched his hands as far as they could go, straining for Sullins's jacket.
He snagged it with the tip of his fingers. Shook. He knew the keys to the cuffs were in his jacket pocket. Not on the key ring, not in his pants, his jacket. Inside pocket.
He shook again.
The keys fell out and onto his chest.
Michael grunted. Reached. Got the keys.
Frantically, he palmed them and brought them up to the locks. He could hear the footsteps coming closer. His hand shook. He missed the lock three times before he got the key in. Turned.
The cuffs unlocked.
The men came closer.
Michael grabbed Sullins's gun just as the door to the van slid open. He fired blindly, shooting ahead of him.
The gun clicked. No more bullets.
Two attackers were on the ground, blood soaking through their shirts.
With a gasp, Michael dropped the gun. His shaking hands found the keys again and he unlocked his ankle cuffs before carefully lowering himself to the ceiling. The world spun as blood drained away from his head.
"Alex," he said, climbing over Sullins to his lover. "Alex."
Alex blinked, gaining consciousness slowly as Michael undid his cuffs.
"You okay?" Michael asked, assessing Alex's injuries. A few cuts, and a bruise from where he's banged his head into the side of the van.
"I think so. What happened?"
"Company, I think." Michael wiped what he now realized was blood from his eyes. "We got to get out of here."
"If we run, they'll think we did this."
"I know." He turned to Sullins. "What if we leave them a message? A way to contact us."
"Your website?"
Michael shrugged, looking back at him. "It's all we have. Unless we just call when we're safe."
"Whatever. Let's just do it quickly and get out of here."
"What about them? We can't just leave them."
Alex rolled his eyes but moved to help. Together, they got Sullins and Lang out of the van. There was a first aid kit in the back. As quickly as they could, they dressed the majority of their wounds and covered them the blankets to help with shock.
"How did you manage to miss every vital organ?" Alex asked as they cuffed their attackers.
"I was shooting with my eyes closed," Michael answered. He pat down his down, relieving him of his wallet and cell phone.
"We can't take that. They'll track us."
"I know." He opened the back and removed the battery, then the SIM card, which he snapped in half. "Okay, we've got a passport and… five hundred bucks."
"Two hundred over here. They guys are traveling heavy. Let's go."
"One second." Michael fished a paper from Sullins's pocket and tore it in half. On both, he wrote the URL for europeangoldfinch.net and his name, then tucked it into Sullins and Lang's pockets. Then he rose.
"Which way do we go?" he asked. He felt kind of giddy. Adrenaline was still rushing through him and the possibility of escape loomed in his mind. No, he wasn't with Lincoln, but that would change. They'd fix that. Be reunited. With Lincoln and LJ and Tony. Maybe even Sara.
But right now… Right now, he and Alex were free. They were free and they were together.
Alex grinned as he twirled the keys around his fingers. "I say we head north. Find a hole in Costa Rica to hide out for a bit. Plan our next steps."
"Sounds good to me." He moved closer to Alex. Kissed him, running his fingers down Alex's jaw. "Thanks, by the way. For keeping me sane."
Alex kissed him back. Rested their foreheads together as his hands held Michael tightly by the shoulders. Keeping him stable. Keeping him safe. "Well, right back at you, Michael. Because I really don't think I would have survived that hell without you there." He kissed Michael again. "Now let's get a move-on. We have an escape to make."
Fin
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, Part 42. Part 43
"Can you tell us, Mr. Mahone, when the group known as the Company first contacted you?" asked one of the suits sitting behind the panel at the head of the courtroom.
Alex cleared his throat and shifted in the hard chair. He felt like crap, having finally come down with whatever it'd been that Michael had had. Headache, throat ache, aching skin, aching limbs, fever, and a general feeling of death stamping over his head. Yeah. Little bastard had given him whatever that disease was.
Fucker.
He cleared his throat again. "The, uh. The company contacted me about May 31 or June 1. I don't remember which, exactly. There was a lot going on."
"What was the name of the man who contacted you?"
"Paul Kellerman." He coughed into his shoulder, wincing as pain lanced through his sinuses. "He, uh, he, uh called me at the office sometime late into the night. Said he wanted to meet with me. That it was in my best interest. I tried to put him off, but he mentioned something about Oscar Shales. Said again it'd be in my best interest to see him. So. I did."
Michael pressed a glass of water into Alex's hand. Alex took it with a grateful smile and drank it down. His throat felt swollen five times its normal size and on fire besides.
"What information did he have on Oscar Shales?"
Alex glanced at Sullins.
Sullins nodded and leaned forward. "The Oscar Shales case isn't really pertinent to this. Sufficed to say, they had uncovered what had transpired between Alex Mahone and the fugitive Oscar Shales and the information would destroy his career in the Bureau. He's been given immunity in these proceedings and I say we move on."
The men glanced at each other before nodding.
"Mr. Mahone, what did the Company ask of you?"
"They wanted me to kill ever member of the Fox River Eight. They knew Lincoln Burrows had some knowledge of the Company, as did Michael Scofield. They just didn't know how much. They also didn't know what Michael had shared and with who, so they just said to kill them all." Alex cleared his throat. "That, uh… at the time, I was just told to kill them. I figured out the rest later. In the beginning, all I knew what who I had to kill. My contact was Paul Kellerman. Later, I came into contact with a man named Bill Kim."
"Did they ever give you the name of their organization? Anything beside the Company?"
"No. They didn't."
"Did you, at any time, try to turn down the Company? Go straight?"
Alex nodded. "I did. After I was shot, I told Bill Kim I was out. That I was going to turn myself in, tell Agent Sullins everything. Accept my punishment."
"And what happened?" he prodded when Alex fell silent.
He looked down at the table. Cleared his throat.
Under the table, Michael reached for his hand and squeezed it.
Alex smiled at him faintly before looking back up. "Um, they, uh. They sent an agent of theirs to my ex-wife's house in Colorado. Hit my son with a car. Broke his leg pretty badly. I was on my way to be with her when the agent found me. Told me that next time, it wouldn't be just a broken leg and I better get back to work."
"What was this agent's name?"
"To be honest, sir, I didn't get it."
"Do you know where he might be now?"
"Middle of desert in a shallow grave."
Pens scratched on paper. Glances were exchanged.
The questioning went on for another twenty minutes. Alex talked himself hoarse. And then, after he spoke, it was Michael's turn. And he had to sit there and listen to Michael go on and on about the Company and the conspiracy. About the information he'd uncovered and the flash drive with an incriminating conversation between Caroline Reynolds and her supposedly dead brother. About people who helped and people who hindered and Bill Kim's death and…
All in all, the inquest took over an hour. By the end of it, Alex was completely wrung out and so tired, he didn't care if they were sent back to Sona so long as he could sleep.
"Okay, now they'll deliberate," Sullins said after they were dismissed, ushering Michael and Alex into the hall of the courtroom. "In about an hour they should have their decision. Sit, sit. You two did well."
Alex fell onto the wooden bench with a hard thump. It reverberated up his spine, but he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep. "Any idea of their decision?"
"Between the two of you, I think we have enough information to at least get a good start. As far as I'm concerned, we'll be catching a flight back to the US in a few hours."
Alex and Michael exchanged a look, before Alex slumped onto Michael's shoulder.
"You're burning up," Michael said.
"I know." He coughed. "I hate you."
Michael's shoulder shook. He lay his cheek against the top of Alex's head. "No, you don't."
For the first time that day, practically, Sullins stopped being wrapped up in his mind and plans and actually looked at Alex. "Wow. You look awful."
Alex snorted, which sent into a round of small coughs. "I feel awful. Why do you think Lang's missing?"
"I don’t know. I asked about her, but never heard anything."
"That's because you never stopped talking long enough to get an answer," Alex said with another small cough. "She went to Sara to see if the test results from Michael were back yet. To see what this sickness is." He coughed again. "Then she said she was going to come back with something for the fever."
"This, like, some, uh… well." He cleared his throat. "You know."
Alex honestly doesn't know, but it might just be the fever and weeks of stress coming over him.
Michael, thought, gets it. "No, it's not an STD or anything. Just some kind of virus that was going around Sona."
Sullins had the decency to blush at least. He looked down and rubbed his hands on his pants. "Well. Good. Um, bad that you're sick, but you know. Good." He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. "So. Once they clear you, we'll go to the embassy to run some paperwork. You'll have time to say goodbye to your brother there, Michael. Then we'll get on a plane , go back to Chicago, where you'll be put into protective custody."
"Do you know where?" Alex asked.
"Medium security prison about ten miles outside of Chicago. I don't think it'll be a permanent placing. If you're right, and the Company has the reach you say it does, we'll need to protect you. Keep you alive until you're able to testify."
"And after?" Michael asked.
"Of course, that would be ideal," Sullins said with a faint smile.
Michael nodded. He clenched his fists, then flexed his hands. Began to pull on his fingers and shift in his seat.
Great.
Alex tried to muster up the energy to stop him, but Michael was too fast. Luckily, what came out of his mouth wasn't either of the top two things that Alex thought would come out.
"There's a man back in Sona. Brad Bellick. He was a guard at Fox River and came down here looking for us. You know. To collect on the bounty, get justice. He, uh. I think he might have some information about the Company." Michael glanced at Alex from under his lashes.
Well. Damn.
"This true, Alex?" Sullins asked.
"I don't know how much he knows. I hired him to help me track down some of the escapees. He came down to Panama looking for Fernando Sucre. I don't know how he wound up in prison. But." He exhaled hard. "I wouldn't wish Sona on my worst enemy. Well," he corrected himself, thinking of T-Bag. "Bellick's an ignorant asshole, but Sona will kill him."
"I can't get a guy released because the prison down here is too rough," Sullins said. "It was hard enough to get you two out, and I need you."
"But Bellick didn't do anything to deserve to wind up there," Michael protested.
"How do you know?" countered Sullins, sounding reasonable. "You just said that you didn't know what he was in for. For all you know, he was caught torturing someone."
Michael nodded, but he looked crestfallen. Damn kid probably wouldn't be happy until he released every person in Sona he had the slightest bit of contact with.
"Agent Sullins," someone called.
"Stay here." Sullins turned and went to talk to someone who'd just stepped out.
"Michael, give it up, okay? You can't save everyone. We got Tony out." He slipped his hand into Michael's, interlacing their fingers. "We saved the one who mattered."
Michael turned his head and rested it in the crook of Alex's neck, pressing his forehead against his skin. "You mattered," he whispered. "To me, you matter."
"Back at you," Alex said through a tight throat. He kissed the top of Michael's head.
"It's just, without me, Bellick wouldn't have been down here. He wouldn't… I feel bad."
"I know. But Bellick isn't an angel. He's done things he deserves to be punished for."
"So have I."
"Michael," Alex started, but he stopped when Lang and Sara entered through nearby doors.
"Sorry," Sara said as she rushed down the hall in a light run. She was again carrying her bag and managed to look official even in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. "I got the tests back. You have strep throat, so did he. I thought he might, but there were symptoms that aren't normally associated with strep, so I wasn't positive. How's your throat?"
"Hurts," Alex said.
She nodded and lightly touched under his chin. "Head back and open your mouth?" With one hand, she dug through her bag and pulled out a flashlight.
Alex complied with her directions.
"Oh, yeah. You have strep." She clicked off the flashlight. "I don't have an antibiotic to give you, so we'll just treat you with acetaminophen, liquids, and rest if possible." She bent down and dug through her bag again. "Temperature."
Alex opened his mouth and accepted the thermometer.
"I'm going to see what I can do to convince Sullins to let us stay another day to let you rest," Lang said. She put her hand on Alex's shoulder. "How'd it go in there?"
Alex shrugged. Then he lifted one shoulder, tilting his head to it.
"He thinks it went okay," Michael interpreted. "Sullins seemed positive. But he's really pushing to get out of here."
Lang smiled and winked at Michael. "Leave him to me. Excuse me." She turned and walked off towards Sullins.
Sara pulled the thermometer from Alex's mouth. "One hundred. Not too bad. Here." She pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the bag for him. As he guzzled the liquid down, she dug in the bag before coming out with a bottle of Tylenol.
"Thanks, Sara," he said, voice hoarse. "I really appreciate it."
"Don't worry about it." She smiled kindly and ran her hand over his head, smoothing flyaway hair down. Then she squeezed onto the bench next to Michael. "We okay?" she asked, taking his hand.
Michael closed his eyes. Let out a long, slow breath, his fingers tightening in hers. "Are we?" he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Michael, I'm disappointed things didn't work out between us. I love you, I do. But I'm also happy that you're so… happy with Alex, because you are. Even under these circumstances, you're happy." She stroked her thumb over Michael's finger. "I'm sorry I slept with Lincoln."
"I don't care that you slept with him. It's fine."
"See, that scares me. Because you should care. One way or another, you should care." She looked at Alex, meeting his eyes over Michael's head.
He shook his head helplessly. Michael was a twisted mess when it came to personal relationships. To sex. Sara was right; Michael should care. But, if Michael said he didn't, and he probably didn't. He'd trained himself not to.
"Sara," Michael said, voice cracking. "What I feel or don't or… or can't… it's too much to get into right now. I can't…"
"Okay, Michael." She kissed him on the head and squeezed his hand again. "Okay. We'll talk about it some other time."
He snorted, but didn't say anything. Just leaned against Alex and held onto Sara's hand so tightly, his knuckles turned white.
Sullins and Lang came back. Sullins had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Lang was beaming.
"They said that you had enough information to warrant bringing you back to the US," Sullins said. "They're processing the paperwork right now. We'll go back to the hotel and I'll arrange for a flight out."
"Richard," Lang muttered.
He looked at her, then back at Alex. Rolled his eyes. "Felicia seems to think you need time to rest. Do you really want to stay in this country overnight so you can sleep?"
Alex didn't care. As long as he can lie down right now, he's fine with anything. "Whatever, Richard."
"It might be good to fly out today," Sara said. She released Michael's hand and rose. "They'll have to examine you wherever you're going. You'll get medication."
"How long will it take to get a flight?" he asked.
"When I checked yesterday, the next flight out wasn't until eight. That's a few hours sleep, at least."
Alex nodded. Tightened his hand in Michael's and stood. "That will be fine." He cleared his throat and glanced at Michael.
Michael looked happy. For Michael, of course, which meant his face was basically blank and expressionless. But his eyes glowed and the lines etched around them and his mouth had faded away.
He was happy. Stupid that a thing like that should make going to prison worth it to Alex, but it did.
Alex had chased Michael for a month. Spent about three weeks in prison with him. And somewhere in all that, in all the anger and admiration and frustration and lust, had fallen madly in love.
"All right," Sullins said, clapping his hands. "Let's go back to the hotel, then. This is almost over."
* * *
Michael awoke to a heavy body on top of his. A hot, wet mouth caressing his.
He moaned deep in his throat and returned the kiss. Without opening his eyes, he ran his hands up Alex's back. Threaded his fingers through silky hair.
Alex laughed. Nipped Michael's lower lip. "You're lucky we're not in Sona anymore," he said hoarsely. "What if someone had snuck into our cell?"
"I know you." Michael opened his eyes. Looked up at Alex, studying his face. He reached up and ran his fingers over Alex's forehead. His nose. Lips. "I know you. I'd know you blind. I'd know you deaf. I'd know you even if I couldn't feel."
"So romantic," Alex mocked teasingly. He pressed his lips to Michael's. Deepened it, mouth opening, tongue moving against Michael's.
"You're sick," Michael said, breathing heavily, when they parted. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"In a few hours, we're flying out. Back to America. To prison. We probably won't get to be together for eight years."
"I don't expect you to wait," Michael said.
Alex rolled his eyes, a patient smile crossing his face. "There is no one else." He kissed Michael. Rested their foreheads together. "I had to let Pam go. I get that now. It's safer for her, and I… I'm ready to move on. To move to you." He kissed Michael again. Under the covers, he tugged at Michael's boxer.
Michael wiggled out of them. Pulled at Alex's until they were both naked.
All they had was a tiny bottle of complimentary lotion. It wasn't quite enough, but Michael didn't care. Didn't care, just wrapped his legs around Alex and arched his back as Alex slowly slid into him, heat racing over Michael's skin.
"I'll wait for you as long as if have to," Alex whispered against Michael's skin as he thrust. "Eight days or eight years or eight centuries. I'll wait."
Michael didn't answer. His nails bit into Alex's back. Sweat rolled down his face, brow furrowed and he concentrated. Focused on the sensation of Alex's body against his. The way his face looked as he thrust into Michael, each stroke harder than the one before. The musky smell of his sweat and the taste of his skin, his mouth.
Pleasure coiled in Michael, tighter and tighter. He kissed and licked every part of Alex he could as Alex pushed him closer and closer to the brink until…
There were tears in Michael's eyes as he floated back to earth. Alex was still inside him, kissing him, stroking his face. Wiping away the tears that escaped to roll down Michael's face. Following the trail with his lips.
Michael closed his eyes. Pushed his face closer to Alex's. Kissed him. Clung to him.
"I love you," he whispered.
Alex kissed his forehead. His nose. "Yeah," he said, kissing Michael's upper lip, then his lower. "I love you, too."
* * *
"We're lost," Lang said, folding the map so she could manage it better.
"We are not lost. These are the directions they gave us at the embassy."
"A deserted road is supposed to take us to the airport? Really?" Lang's voice dripped with scorn.
"It's a shortcut."
This time, Lang's response was inaudible, but Michael could guess at its content. He'd had many such conversations with Lincoln over the years and knew the frustration at butting heads with someone who refused to admit they were lost.
Although, Michael wasn't entirely sure they were lost. Not exactly. Yeah, they were driving down what looked like a dirt path in the middle of a deserted area, but they were still in view of the city. Maybe it was a short cut.
Of course, more likely, it was a plot to get them alone so they could all be killed, but Michael wasn't going to point that out. Alex had already tried. Sullins had just laughed and told him he was a bit paranoid.
Michael sighed as Lang and Sullins continued to bicker and turned his wrists around in the cuffs. They weren't tight, but psychologically, they were choking him. He hated being cuffed. Hated feeling out of control. No. Scratch that. It wasn't that he felt out of control. It was that he hated being under the control of others.
Except Alex. But he was different. Alex was… Alex, and he could control Michael as much as he wanted.
He tugged at the cuffs.
"Stop," Alex said, opening his eyes. He lifted his head from the seat and blinked his eyes. "You'll just panic yourself."
"I'm not going to panic."
He moved his hands over the few inches they were allowed and took Michael's fingers in his. Squeezed. "Just stop pulling or twisting or even thinking about them. Just relax."
He snorted.
"Michael." Alex leaned closer and pressed a kiss on Michael's temple. "I… Shit!"
The word was barely out of Alex's mouth when the world went to hell. There was a loud crash Michael more felt than heard. There was noise and bright flashes of light. The world tumbled head over heel. Shards of glass sliced into his skin and all Michael could do was hold his breath and squeeze his hands around the goddamn chains until it was all over.
And then it was. The lights faded away and the noise muted. There was beeping. The car. And the engine idling.
The sound of another car, the engine shutting off.
Michael opened his eyes. They were sticky, like he'd been asleep. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. Something dripped into his eyes again.
"Alex?"
There was no answer.
Michael turned his head and wiped his eyes on his shirt.
He was upside down. Sullins was underneath him, on the ceiling, unconscious. A gash on his forehead. Bruises forming. And Felicia. Laying in her seat, crushed glass covering her body.
Michael had to wipe his eyes again. Squinted, looking through the windshield.
In the road, just ahead, was a Hummer. There was the sound of doors opening. Feet appeared. Doors slammed shut.
Adrenaline rushed through Michael. He struggled against the handcuffs and leg chains holding him into his seat. This time, panic did roll through him, but he ignored him. Stretched his hands as far as they could go, straining for Sullins's jacket.
He snagged it with the tip of his fingers. Shook. He knew the keys to the cuffs were in his jacket pocket. Not on the key ring, not in his pants, his jacket. Inside pocket.
He shook again.
The keys fell out and onto his chest.
Michael grunted. Reached. Got the keys.
Frantically, he palmed them and brought them up to the locks. He could hear the footsteps coming closer. His hand shook. He missed the lock three times before he got the key in. Turned.
The cuffs unlocked.
The men came closer.
Michael grabbed Sullins's gun just as the door to the van slid open. He fired blindly, shooting ahead of him.
The gun clicked. No more bullets.
Two attackers were on the ground, blood soaking through their shirts.
With a gasp, Michael dropped the gun. His shaking hands found the keys again and he unlocked his ankle cuffs before carefully lowering himself to the ceiling. The world spun as blood drained away from his head.
"Alex," he said, climbing over Sullins to his lover. "Alex."
Alex blinked, gaining consciousness slowly as Michael undid his cuffs.
"You okay?" Michael asked, assessing Alex's injuries. A few cuts, and a bruise from where he's banged his head into the side of the van.
"I think so. What happened?"
"Company, I think." Michael wiped what he now realized was blood from his eyes. "We got to get out of here."
"If we run, they'll think we did this."
"I know." He turned to Sullins. "What if we leave them a message? A way to contact us."
"Your website?"
Michael shrugged, looking back at him. "It's all we have. Unless we just call when we're safe."
"Whatever. Let's just do it quickly and get out of here."
"What about them? We can't just leave them."
Alex rolled his eyes but moved to help. Together, they got Sullins and Lang out of the van. There was a first aid kit in the back. As quickly as they could, they dressed the majority of their wounds and covered them the blankets to help with shock.
"How did you manage to miss every vital organ?" Alex asked as they cuffed their attackers.
"I was shooting with my eyes closed," Michael answered. He pat down his down, relieving him of his wallet and cell phone.
"We can't take that. They'll track us."
"I know." He opened the back and removed the battery, then the SIM card, which he snapped in half. "Okay, we've got a passport and… five hundred bucks."
"Two hundred over here. They guys are traveling heavy. Let's go."
"One second." Michael fished a paper from Sullins's pocket and tore it in half. On both, he wrote the URL for europeangoldfinch.net and his name, then tucked it into Sullins and Lang's pockets. Then he rose.
"Which way do we go?" he asked. He felt kind of giddy. Adrenaline was still rushing through him and the possibility of escape loomed in his mind. No, he wasn't with Lincoln, but that would change. They'd fix that. Be reunited. With Lincoln and LJ and Tony. Maybe even Sara.
But right now… Right now, he and Alex were free. They were free and they were together.
Alex grinned as he twirled the keys around his fingers. "I say we head north. Find a hole in Costa Rica to hide out for a bit. Plan our next steps."
"Sounds good to me." He moved closer to Alex. Kissed him, running his fingers down Alex's jaw. "Thanks, by the way. For keeping me sane."
Alex kissed him back. Rested their foreheads together as his hands held Michael tightly by the shoulders. Keeping him stable. Keeping him safe. "Well, right back at you, Michael. Because I really don't think I would have survived that hell without you there." He kissed Michael again. "Now let's get a move-on. We have an escape to make."
Fin
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-06 07:44 pm (UTC)